Dear Mel,
I am sorry. I know I am not consistent enough. Even though I still number everyday like I am. :) I am just going to be honest. I just can't. My heart is there but in the end I have realized that my thirty day project will probably take close to sixty. Everyday I think about you. Some days are clear and concise and I know exactly what I want to say. Others, most days, are a jumble of thoughts and feelings. My ability to write it down greatly depends on my "emotional state" for the day. Usually if I am having a tough day I tend to be more willing to "emotionally vomit"...those are your words BTW...on you and I feel better. Other days I am relatively happy and I don't want to touch for fear of sinking again. I have to take full advantage of my good days and also allow my bad days to flush themselves out. So, once again you have become my sounding board just like normal. This a little harder though because you never talk back. I my mind though I always like to imagine that I know you well enough by now that I know just how you would react and what you would say. Someday you may have to correct me on that assumption.
The other day I cracked open my photos. The ones I came home with after your funeral and haven't dared to look at since. I didn't want to think about it at all. I didn't need help recalling how much I miss you, but that was a good day, so I decided it was better to do it on a good day than a bad one. It was actually really fun. I love watching you change over the years. All my photos are of you in high school and when you were still having babies. Many of them you are pregnant...which I know were your favorite.
Today the ones that did prick my heart were the ones I found of you, me, and Jay. Now that she is the only living sister I have I tend to lean on her more than I should. She and I are in the same place. We both deal very differently. She usually calls and talks and I know she is having a bad by the sound of her voice even though she doesn't say it. She doesn't want to talk about it she just wants someone on the other line. Me I like to fix everything. Anything I come to understand I want to share so I can make it better for her. Believe me I know how SUPER annoying it is but it is just my compulsion and the majority of the time it gets the better of me.
God knew what he was doing when he made the three of us sisters. He knew we needed each other. He knew he could put three people together and while they were all very different they all had good hearts and he knew that we would understand how much we needed one another. I rejoice in my heart often over the fact that our brothers and sister have accepted our need to be together and our desire to share in one another lives. I know with your death it has brought many questions to the surface about how good of a person I am to those I love most, but deep down I know that we did care for each other and we all showed it by our dedication to each other and their families. You were a great sister. I would give anything to go back and live each memory with you over the last twenty-seven years. I curse my mind almost daily for the loss of memory I already feel I am having. I just pray that maybe when the cloud lifts from my mind things may be a little clearer. I need you. I need you so bad it hurts. I have so many questions. So many things I took for granted that I could ask you and now when I think of them a pain shoots through my heart. I know there are others around me to ask that I trust but the difference is is that in your answers I am sure. Others I have to evaluate and think through but I trust your opinion completely. I know you always try to do the right thing. I know that you take the time to think it through. I often finding myself wanting to ask you questions about your girls and if you were in my situation what would you do. Often times I don't know how we will get through this life. Sometimes things feel like they are going to fall apart before we see you again. I know there is hope in the Savior, in your resurrection, but it is the right here and now that scares me. The next few years. I don't know what to do for your girls. I don't know how to calm their breaking hearts. Sometimes I feel like everyone around them is in such a terrible spot to help because we don't even know what we are doing. Plus we are just trying to keep our heads above water, too. I don't know how to be something I am not. They don't want me or Jay they want you and that is the hardest thing of all. There is no fix there is only band aides. They stay for awhile and then they fall off and it all opens up again.
I remember all those weekends when the three of us would get together and revel in our motherly bliss. More like chaos. It was to watch them enjoy each other and be together. Take in how each of us handle our own children. Watch as you worked furiously to be the favorite aunt to all of me and Jay's kids. (We know that is your secret. To be all their favorites. You were/are pretty tough competition. I feel like I will never top you and I am not sure I want to.) I remember the laughing, talking, fights (between kids), mass meals produced, and projects. Like the time we decided to turn Jayanne's bedroom into a photo studio. We dressed them all up and took a thousand shots of them all together. Now they hang on Dad's wall. Fun was had, being together was what it was really all about, and we would ended the day exhausted. I lived for times like that in Utah. To be honest I am scared to go back. Scared for the quietness that will accompany such an event without you. Scared of the absence that will be painfully apparent. I wonder often if we will ever share such moments again. I imagine we will because I think the next life will be filled with happiness and those are some of my happiest here on earth. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Easter With Meaning
A time of reflection.
When Christ rose from the grave, becoming the firstfruits of the Resurrection, He made that gift available to all. And with that sublime act, He softened the devastating, consuming sorrow that gnaws at the souls of those who have lost precious loved ones. (Joseph B. Wirthlin, “Sunday Will Come,” Ensign, Nov 2006, 28–30)
Day 25
Dear Melynda,
Today is beautiful outside. I imagine where you are it is beautiful too. Today it makes me think of that beautiful red mountain that you are now resting next to. On the way home from school we decided to postpone lunch and naps and go to the park. The weather was calling us. The sunshine and bright colors put light right into me and the soft breeze has a way of blowing out every feeling of sorrow inside. It was wonderful.
This park was refreshing. It has a lot of old fashion toys. A wooden teeter-totter, metal jungle gym and those big metal things you sit on and they whirl around. That is the one that called to me. After watching my kids play for awhile I took some time to push Kate on it. Telling her stories I remembered about playing on them with Jayanne all the time growing up and how they don't make them that much anymore. She could not fathom why since they were the funnest thing at the park. Then I hopped up on it and showed her how I like to ride on them. I would wrap my legs around the bar and lay back with my head in the center. So we both laid back and watched the sky twirl around us. It was like going back in time. It reminded me of all the days Jay and I would spend at your baseball games. Listen to all you girls in the dugout sing all those songs. Our favorite that we still sing today at out house is "Jump Shake Your Booty". I can remember traveling around as a family going to your games. I remember your nickname "band-aid" because you were always getting hurt. When I was that young I don't have any big memories of you. I remember calling you a klutz one times and you were REALLY offended. I do remember admiring you. Admiring how much others liked to be around you. I liked being your sister because everybody liked you.
It is funny how time passes us by and we think we know what the important times in our life are. How we tend to treasure the "big events" in our lifes. I find myself going back more and more to simple memories like this one at the park. The ones that became traditions in a way. I wish I could go back and watch it all again. I wish I could go back with knowledge I have now and take each moment a little slower and work harder at remembering the things I will miss. Watch you with your friends and me on the play ground. What did we say to each other? What did we do together? Did I ever cheer you on as you played? I honestly don't know but I know that thinking back to those times makes me happy. They are good enough that I miss them. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Day 24
Dear Melynda,
I had an epiphany. Death sucks! I realized this morning why. The Atonement is beautiful and I feel so much peace, but now after going through all of this I realize that even with our promises from our Savior this is still hard. It makes the blackness and the hopelessness go away but there is still this sucking hole that sometimes "I feel like it is taking me".
I thought this morning that we we as humans are pretty much optimistic by nature. I remember even after all you went through you would continually, after hitting rock bottom, turn it around and convince yourself to get up and find something better. Nothing can keep us down forever. I figured out that this doesn't get better. No matter what low I hit you won't come back. No matter how much I cry your girls will still be without you. I CAN'T DO ANYTHING! That is not something I could wrap my mind around before. I remember after Garrett died it really brought it home to all of us that we could have lost you two years before when you had your stroke. I remember thinking it is okay though we have the gospel it will be alright. We could get through it and we still will. It is just that I didn't realize that no matter what you still have to hurt, you still feel empty, you still feel desperate and sad...you are still gone. There is no remedy or fix. I didn't realize the two weren't related at all.
I know I am being helped and strengthened continuously. I know my Heavenly Father and Savior are always here. I know because otherwise I would let this black hole just take me. I wouldn't get out of bed or talk to anyone. I would just be an angry, resentful mess. The Atonement is beautiful. How much love that must have taken. I can't even imagine loving that deeply that I would willingly take on such pain for someone. It is a battle to handle the small amount I have right now. I know my pain is swallowed up in his, but I also know that we still have to feel some because we are meant to. I know I need to learn from this and grow. I knew there is purpose but sometimes it just feels downright wrong. Against how I thought everything was supposed to be in life.
My mind keeps flipping to a time in The Book of Mormon when the Nephites were taken into bondage by the Lamanites. Their burden became very heavy. Paying heavy taxes, being beaten, I am sure they felt in constant danger for their family and themselves, plus they were no longer allowed to pray. They instead prayed in their hearts and tried to make the best of it. God did not release them from their trial but he did make it so that their burden was easy to bare. They still had to live with all those same struggles and they still felt the sting but God made it so they could do it everyday with His strengths. That is exactly how I feel and it feels my heart with gratitude that I don't have to do this alone.
I can still remember an amazing conversation we had in your infamous truck. We were discussing our childhood. All the ups and downs and challenge that came that we knew most didn't have to go through in their early years. I think that day could have been the day that my testimony really began. You were there telling me about how one day it just hit you. That for all that had happened to you in your childhood it was up to you to forgive. That the Atonement of Jesus Christ made it possible for you to be free of it all. You said you just had this feeling of relief that you could let it all go and move on with life. You didn't have to hate or be vengeful you could just live your life now and be happy. I remember being so awestruck that it was a choice you made and not some magnificent event where God made it all better just by chance. This was the day I really began to think and ponder about the Atonement and what it could do for me in my own life. While I have never had such a moment of yours I have felt the gift and power of the Atonement work continuously in my life. I have felt it slowly extract pain and anguish from my soul. Helped me forgive and even love those who I could easily choose to hate for a lifetime.
Here is another crossroads you were apart of. This one I consider incredibly significant because all that I am is because of my faith in Jesus Christ. I know there were many seeds of faith planted along the path of my life but this is one of the biggest changes I can remember. Where I actively chose to use the Atonement. That testimony would then go on the help me on several occasions in my life. Thanks for teaching me a lesson that is now saving me. I couldn't get through this without my faith. I know all will be well. This experience has brought new life into this Easter season. As I have suffered more sorrow than I ever have it has brought new understanding into my heart about what the Savior chose to do. There is a wonderful video here that shows the Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane. It isn't fancy or exciting it is very raw and plain with emotion. As I see him in pain I think I have felt more pain and despair than I thought anyone could handle but he went through more and he did it for everyone. I couldn't change my circumstances but he, however, didn't have to suffer at all if he chose not to. He did, though, and now because of that he understands. He can help. He can lift our burdens. I rejoice in someone who loved us enough to do this. I feel hope in God's plan because of it. I don't think I will ever fully understand the Atonement, in this life, but I testify that it is real. That it is available to all. It is already paid for we just need to make use of it.
Thank you for your lesson that has changed me for forever. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
I had an epiphany. Death sucks! I realized this morning why. The Atonement is beautiful and I feel so much peace, but now after going through all of this I realize that even with our promises from our Savior this is still hard. It makes the blackness and the hopelessness go away but there is still this sucking hole that sometimes "I feel like it is taking me".
I thought this morning that we we as humans are pretty much optimistic by nature. I remember even after all you went through you would continually, after hitting rock bottom, turn it around and convince yourself to get up and find something better. Nothing can keep us down forever. I figured out that this doesn't get better. No matter what low I hit you won't come back. No matter how much I cry your girls will still be without you. I CAN'T DO ANYTHING! That is not something I could wrap my mind around before. I remember after Garrett died it really brought it home to all of us that we could have lost you two years before when you had your stroke. I remember thinking it is okay though we have the gospel it will be alright. We could get through it and we still will. It is just that I didn't realize that no matter what you still have to hurt, you still feel empty, you still feel desperate and sad...you are still gone. There is no remedy or fix. I didn't realize the two weren't related at all.
I know I am being helped and strengthened continuously. I know my Heavenly Father and Savior are always here. I know because otherwise I would let this black hole just take me. I wouldn't get out of bed or talk to anyone. I would just be an angry, resentful mess. The Atonement is beautiful. How much love that must have taken. I can't even imagine loving that deeply that I would willingly take on such pain for someone. It is a battle to handle the small amount I have right now. I know my pain is swallowed up in his, but I also know that we still have to feel some because we are meant to. I know I need to learn from this and grow. I knew there is purpose but sometimes it just feels downright wrong. Against how I thought everything was supposed to be in life.
My mind keeps flipping to a time in The Book of Mormon when the Nephites were taken into bondage by the Lamanites. Their burden became very heavy. Paying heavy taxes, being beaten, I am sure they felt in constant danger for their family and themselves, plus they were no longer allowed to pray. They instead prayed in their hearts and tried to make the best of it. God did not release them from their trial but he did make it so that their burden was easy to bare. They still had to live with all those same struggles and they still felt the sting but God made it so they could do it everyday with His strengths. That is exactly how I feel and it feels my heart with gratitude that I don't have to do this alone.
I can still remember an amazing conversation we had in your infamous truck. We were discussing our childhood. All the ups and downs and challenge that came that we knew most didn't have to go through in their early years. I think that day could have been the day that my testimony really began. You were there telling me about how one day it just hit you. That for all that had happened to you in your childhood it was up to you to forgive. That the Atonement of Jesus Christ made it possible for you to be free of it all. You said you just had this feeling of relief that you could let it all go and move on with life. You didn't have to hate or be vengeful you could just live your life now and be happy. I remember being so awestruck that it was a choice you made and not some magnificent event where God made it all better just by chance. This was the day I really began to think and ponder about the Atonement and what it could do for me in my own life. While I have never had such a moment of yours I have felt the gift and power of the Atonement work continuously in my life. I have felt it slowly extract pain and anguish from my soul. Helped me forgive and even love those who I could easily choose to hate for a lifetime.
Here is another crossroads you were apart of. This one I consider incredibly significant because all that I am is because of my faith in Jesus Christ. I know there were many seeds of faith planted along the path of my life but this is one of the biggest changes I can remember. Where I actively chose to use the Atonement. That testimony would then go on the help me on several occasions in my life. Thanks for teaching me a lesson that is now saving me. I couldn't get through this without my faith. I know all will be well. This experience has brought new life into this Easter season. As I have suffered more sorrow than I ever have it has brought new understanding into my heart about what the Savior chose to do. There is a wonderful video here that shows the Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane. It isn't fancy or exciting it is very raw and plain with emotion. As I see him in pain I think I have felt more pain and despair than I thought anyone could handle but he went through more and he did it for everyone. I couldn't change my circumstances but he, however, didn't have to suffer at all if he chose not to. He did, though, and now because of that he understands. He can help. He can lift our burdens. I rejoice in someone who loved us enough to do this. I feel hope in God's plan because of it. I don't think I will ever fully understand the Atonement, in this life, but I testify that it is real. That it is available to all. It is already paid for we just need to make use of it.
Thank you for your lesson that has changed me for forever. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Day 23
Macie and you working on our treat.
Dear Melynda,
Saturday is my least favorite day of the week. I don't know what it is but it always gets to me. Today being a rainy day really fits the mood but it only makes me feel worse. Here's to more sunny days.
We are preparing for our "Pizza Factory Movie Night". Titled by Kate. I remember being in Utah with you and we were preparing for a movie night at your house. It was Friday night and we were all ready to have fun. You had been working so hard in physical therapy all week, the girls had had lots of homework every night that week and lets face it with all my kids and that many people squeezed into your house we really needed to do something fun. I was in the room laying out blankets and pillows with Maya and Abbi while you and Macie worked on some sort of new treat to share with everyone. You were always good at coming up with new treats. I think that night you made up some yummy camel popcorn with a marsh mellow base so it was really chewy. You would always give me crap when we cooked together because I ALWAYS follow the directions and measure out everything. Where you on the other hand almost NEVER use directions or measure.
I remember watching all the kiddos settle in to watch the show. Popcorn in hand and excited look on their face as the show began. I remember us standing in the kitchen watching all those sweet little faces of ours and you saying, "I love rewarding my kids after a hard week of work." I have no idea why but I have never let that thought go. I have started similar rituals over the past year with my kids. Making a point to once a week do something they love. Usually it does revolve around a movie because, well, they really love movies. We have good food, if dad is home we blow up the air mattress, have a fun dinner, and pic a kid/adult friendly movie. It is tradition for us that began right in your home. Now we never have one of those nights without thinking of you.
I remember the last movie night I had with you this summer ended up on a Sunday. All my kids ended up sick and so we couldn't go to church. After a long day at home that night we curled up and watched "Pride and Prejudice". Of course the BBC one. Looking back it is one of the happiest memories I have. You were the first one who introduced me to them and I remember that night last July us smiling and laughing over Mr. Darcy and Lizzy just like we did the first time we watch it when I was fifteen. No the movie wasn't really for our kids. They only stuck around for the first video out of all five, but wow! it is a good last memory for me. I am grateful for all the traditions and things that brought us together. Thanks for making so many awesome memories and being such a profound part of my life. The more I have gone through this experience I can see every profound thing in my life that you have been apart of. I can take out each experience and say if you hadn't of been there my life would be very different. Thanks for being at so many crossroads. Some big some small but all incredibly important to who I have become. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Enjoying the show!
**Please feel free to leave a comment. I have been getting visitors from all over the world. I am intrigued by those of you who so diligently stop by to read a story about my sister. I know some of you know Melynda and some don't. Some visit because you are friends of mine and this is your first time stopping by. I think some may visit to be close to her or maybe to just understand. Either feel free to leave a note, message, or story to share with us all. Mel was a great lady and I love all of you who love her, too. Messages to me are just like getting a letter in the mail. It is like getting a present you didn't know was coming!
Day 22
Dear Melynda,
Saturday is my least favorite day of the week. I don't know what it is but it always gets to me. Today being a rainy day really fits the mood but it only makes me feel worse. Here's to more sunny days.
We are preparing for our "Pizza Factory Movie Night". Titled by Kate. I remember being in Utah with you and we were preparing for a movie night at your house. It was Friday night and we were all ready to have fun. You had been working so hard in physical therapy all week, the girls had had lots of homework every night that week and lets face it with all my kids and that many people squeezed into your house we really needed to do something fun. I was in the room laying out blankets and pillows with Maya and Macie while you and Abbi worked on some sort of new treat to share with everyone. You were always good at coming up with new treats. I think that night you made up some yummy camel popcorn with a marsh mellow base so it was really chewy. You would always give me crap when we cooked together because I ALWAYS follow the directions and measure out everything. Where you on the other hand almost NEVER use directions or measure.
I remember watching all the kiddos settle in to watch the show. Popcorn in hand and excited look on their face as the show began. I remember us standing in the kitchen watching all those sweet little faces of ours and you saying, "I love rewarding my kids after a hard week of work." I have no idea why but I have never let that thought go. I have started similar rituals over the past year with my kids. Making a point to once a week do something they love. Usually it does revolve around a movie because, well, they really love movies. We have good food, if dad is home we blow up the air mattress, have a fun dinner, and pic a kid/adult friendly movie. It is tradition for us that began right in your home. Now we never have one of those nights without thinking of you.
I remember the last movie night I had with you this summer ended up on a Sunday. All my kids ended up sick and so we couldn't go to church. After a long day at home that night we curled up and watched "Pride and Prejudice". Of course the BBC one. Looking back it is one of the happiest memories I have. You were the first one who introduced me to them and I remember that night last July us smiling and laughing over Mr. Darcy and Lizzy just like we did the first time we watch it when I was fifteen. No the movie wasn't really for our kids. They only stuck around for the first video out of all five, but wow! it is a good last memory for me. I am grateful for all the traditions and things that brought us together. Thanks for making so many awesome memories and being such a profound part of my life. The more I have gone through this experience I can see every profound thing in my life that you have been apart of. I can take out each experience and say if you hadn't of been there my life would be very different. Thanks for being at so many crossroads. Some big some small but all incredibly important to who I have become. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Saturday is my least favorite day of the week. I don't know what it is but it always gets to me. Today being a rainy day really fits the mood but it only makes me feel worse. Here's to more sunny days.
We are preparing for our "Pizza Factory Movie Night". Titled by Kate. I remember being in Utah with you and we were preparing for a movie night at your house. It was Friday night and we were all ready to have fun. You had been working so hard in physical therapy all week, the girls had had lots of homework every night that week and lets face it with all my kids and that many people squeezed into your house we really needed to do something fun. I was in the room laying out blankets and pillows with Maya and Macie while you and Abbi worked on some sort of new treat to share with everyone. You were always good at coming up with new treats. I think that night you made up some yummy camel popcorn with a marsh mellow base so it was really chewy. You would always give me crap when we cooked together because I ALWAYS follow the directions and measure out everything. Where you on the other hand almost NEVER use directions or measure.
I remember watching all the kiddos settle in to watch the show. Popcorn in hand and excited look on their face as the show began. I remember us standing in the kitchen watching all those sweet little faces of ours and you saying, "I love rewarding my kids after a hard week of work." I have no idea why but I have never let that thought go. I have started similar rituals over the past year with my kids. Making a point to once a week do something they love. Usually it does revolve around a movie because, well, they really love movies. We have good food, if dad is home we blow up the air mattress, have a fun dinner, and pic a kid/adult friendly movie. It is tradition for us that began right in your home. Now we never have one of those nights without thinking of you.
I remember the last movie night I had with you this summer ended up on a Sunday. All my kids ended up sick and so we couldn't go to church. After a long day at home that night we curled up and watched "Pride and Prejudice". Of course the BBC one. Looking back it is one of the happiest memories I have. You were the first one who introduced me to them and I remember that night last July us smiling and laughing over Mr. Darcy and Lizzy just like we did the first time we watch it when I was fifteen. No the movie wasn't really for our kids. They only stuck around for the first video out of all five, but wow! it is a good last memory for me. I am grateful for all the traditions and things that brought us together. Thanks for making so many awesome memories and being such a profound part of my life. The more I have gone through this experience I can see every profound thing in my life that you have been apart of. I can take out each experience and say if you hadn't of been there my life would be very different. Thanks for being at so many crossroads. Some big some small but all incredibly important to who I have become. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Friday, March 23, 2012
Day 21
Dear Melynda,
I think one of the best virtues I learned from you is self confidence. I was almost on the ground rolling the other day thinking about your old truck. Grandma tells the story about when you moved down there, to St. George, they gave you Grandpa's old truck. The one that you could hear from two or three blocks over coming down the street and was about fifteen years past its expiration date. You only lived about five blocks from the Dixie High School, so you would hope in your truck drive two blocks hop out and walk the rest of the way. Then, grandma says, each day you would park a little closer until finally you parked right in the parking lot with everybody else.
Then came my test. You came to live back in North Ogden for awhile after you graduated to help out. I was in junior high at the time and those image things are kind of a big deal. You dropped me off that morning without much attention. It is easy to get lost in all the traffic of the morning. Then you came to pick me up that afternoon. I remember standing there with my friends I could here you a block and a half away coming up by the cemetery. I remember you pulling into the drive and I just bent over laugh. I was not embarrassed at all. I remember looking into the window and seeing your big smile and a laugh on your lips. You and your truck made a big "I'm HERE!" statement. I just remember being so glad you were there, so glad you lived with us, so glad about all of it. I didn't care what anyone else thought. I was proud of you as my sister even if everyone else thought we were crazy.
This same principle came back later in life. I remember after your stroke I felt so betrayed. I felt like your body had just given up on you. It felt so unfair to see you all the sudden in a broken body. Now you had to endure a severe stutter, a wheel chair, and right side paralysis. I think the hardest thing was loosing that big smile. That was one of the hardest for me to watch. So many times when we were together having fun I would wait to see one of your big grins only to see half your face respond. It was always a reminder of what had been lost. You handled it with such grace. You pushed through it slowly just like you did with the truck. Ever so slowly inching closer and closer until you realized those who loved you would love you no matter what and the rest could fall by the wayside.
In a way I think you earned more respect and love because of your ability to handle your struggles so well. Just like me, you taught so many people that it really doesn't matter what others say. One of your greatest achievements was your ability to make friends and your greatest skill was kindness. Your laugh and happy smile would push away all those who looked upon you with doubt or uninterested. They would see you, hear you, and watch who you were and they would want to know you. This is something I hope is secretly tucked away in your girls minds. They have had a front row seat to all your greatest moments for the past decade. Plus I don't think it is something I can teach them. They are so lucky to have you as a mom. I am lucky to have you as my sister. All these memories bring me joy to look back on to help me continue to be who I want to be. Your example and your memory still lives with us. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
I think one of the best virtues I learned from you is self confidence. I was almost on the ground rolling the other day thinking about your old truck. Grandma tells the story about when you moved down there, to St. George, they gave you Grandpa's old truck. The one that you could hear from two or three blocks over coming down the street and was about fifteen years past its expiration date. You only lived about five blocks from the Dixie High School, so you would hope in your truck drive two blocks hop out and walk the rest of the way. Then, grandma says, each day you would park a little closer until finally you parked right in the parking lot with everybody else.
Then came my test. You came to live back in North Ogden for awhile after you graduated to help out. I was in junior high at the time and those image things are kind of a big deal. You dropped me off that morning without much attention. It is easy to get lost in all the traffic of the morning. Then you came to pick me up that afternoon. I remember standing there with my friends I could here you a block and a half away coming up by the cemetery. I remember you pulling into the drive and I just bent over laugh. I was not embarrassed at all. I remember looking into the window and seeing your big smile and a laugh on your lips. You and your truck made a big "I'm HERE!" statement. I just remember being so glad you were there, so glad you lived with us, so glad about all of it. I didn't care what anyone else thought. I was proud of you as my sister even if everyone else thought we were crazy.
This same principle came back later in life. I remember after your stroke I felt so betrayed. I felt like your body had just given up on you. It felt so unfair to see you all the sudden in a broken body. Now you had to endure a severe stutter, a wheel chair, and right side paralysis. I think the hardest thing was loosing that big smile. That was one of the hardest for me to watch. So many times when we were together having fun I would wait to see one of your big grins only to see half your face respond. It was always a reminder of what had been lost. You handled it with such grace. You pushed through it slowly just like you did with the truck. Ever so slowly inching closer and closer until you realized those who loved you would love you no matter what and the rest could fall by the wayside.
In a way I think you earned more respect and love because of your ability to handle your struggles so well. Just like me, you taught so many people that it really doesn't matter what others say. One of your greatest achievements was your ability to make friends and your greatest skill was kindness. Your laugh and happy smile would push away all those who looked upon you with doubt or uninterested. They would see you, hear you, and watch who you were and they would want to know you. This is something I hope is secretly tucked away in your girls minds. They have had a front row seat to all your greatest moments for the past decade. Plus I don't think it is something I can teach them. They are so lucky to have you as a mom. I am lucky to have you as my sister. All these memories bring me joy to look back on to help me continue to be who I want to be. Your example and your memory still lives with us. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Day 20
Dear Mel,
I have something to say to you and I am just praying that I can say it in the right way. Tonight I was walking Carter up to his bed. I hold my kids a little closer each day. I have realized I have a new worry for dying. My soul has become awakened to how temporary our body is. While I do not fear death I do fear all the heart ache it would leave in its wake. So I was thinking of you as I walked him upstairs. I was thinking of the past year of your life, then the past two before that, and the stark contrast that those, almost, three years, had on your life. I know it is a natural things to take about those who have passed and memorialize them as perfect but I have realized I can't do that with you. Unfortunately I am your sister, we have had our squabbles, and I have known you for my whole life. I know you aren't perfect, I know you have made a wrong choice, and I know that you do have your weaknesses.
Now before you go and give me your eye, piercing stare I want you to know that these are the memories I love about you. You are amazing you always have been. You have always had a keen sense of optimism. You have always been able to laugh things out, but I also know of times that it hasn't been so easy. When you haven't wanted to. When you have had to fall back on your choices, and not just your natural abilities, and decide who you wanted to be.
That is why the last three years of your life were remarkable. You had been through the ringer before but nothing compared to these last three years. That is what I remember. I remember it becoming hard, and then harder. Then I remember when I left town for the first time after your stroke saying to Dave, "It can't get any worse from here." He said, "Don't say that! You don't know". Then you had a second mini stroke and lost your speech. I remember coming back again to help a couple weeks later. On one particularly special night I remember a long conversation between the two of us, which you weren't even able to finish because it became too hard to speak, where you stated your discouragement. You laid all your questions and frustrations out there. I was so worried, and so heart broken. Then the amazing happened as it often does with you. You made a choice. You knew you had one. You could either wither in bed and become bitter and alone or you could do something about it.
You worked SO hard! You put everything you had into. I remember some days picking you up from rehab and you being so hurt and tired but you kept on going. I really feel like you almost completely became a whole new person in a lot of ways.
That is what I am going to teach your girls. Heck ya! you had weaknesses and so will they, but we all have a choice. Look what God made because you let him. Look at all the good you did because you were willing to do it. I know you can't possibly comprehend all the good you have done but let me tell you some times it is overwhelming to us because of all the love people show for you. You have changed lives.
So no. I am not ready to die. I still haven't mastered that one step. I do have a lot of faults but I am not as willing to say "go ahead and do what you will and I will make the best of it".
I do aspire to be like my big sister. I am grateful to have a sister that I can trust in and look up to. I know you have tried so hard to follow the Savior's example. Thank you for not being perfect, but also thank you for being brave enough to make all those imperfections the best they can be. I know it took so much courage and strength. I know you have "a reservoir of strength that has not been tapped". I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
I have something to say to you and I am just praying that I can say it in the right way. Tonight I was walking Carter up to his bed. I hold my kids a little closer each day. I have realized I have a new worry for dying. My soul has become awakened to how temporary our body is. While I do not fear death I do fear all the heart ache it would leave in its wake. So I was thinking of you as I walked him upstairs. I was thinking of the past year of your life, then the past two before that, and the stark contrast that those, almost, three years, had on your life. I know it is a natural things to take about those who have passed and memorialize them as perfect but I have realized I can't do that with you. Unfortunately I am your sister, we have had our squabbles, and I have known you for my whole life. I know you aren't perfect, I know you have made a wrong choice, and I know that you do have your weaknesses.
Now before you go and give me your eye, piercing stare I want you to know that these are the memories I love about you. You are amazing you always have been. You have always had a keen sense of optimism. You have always been able to laugh things out, but I also know of times that it hasn't been so easy. When you haven't wanted to. When you have had to fall back on your choices, and not just your natural abilities, and decide who you wanted to be.
That is why the last three years of your life were remarkable. You had been through the ringer before but nothing compared to these last three years. That is what I remember. I remember it becoming hard, and then harder. Then I remember when I left town for the first time after your stroke saying to Dave, "It can't get any worse from here." He said, "Don't say that! You don't know". Then you had a second mini stroke and lost your speech. I remember coming back again to help a couple weeks later. On one particularly special night I remember a long conversation between the two of us, which you weren't even able to finish because it became too hard to speak, where you stated your discouragement. You laid all your questions and frustrations out there. I was so worried, and so heart broken. Then the amazing happened as it often does with you. You made a choice. You knew you had one. You could either wither in bed and become bitter and alone or you could do something about it.
You worked SO hard! You put everything you had into. I remember some days picking you up from rehab and you being so hurt and tired but you kept on going. I really feel like you almost completely became a whole new person in a lot of ways.
That is what I am going to teach your girls. Heck ya! you had weaknesses and so will they, but we all have a choice. Look what God made because you let him. Look at all the good you did because you were willing to do it. I know you can't possibly comprehend all the good you have done but let me tell you some times it is overwhelming to us because of all the love people show for you. You have changed lives.
So no. I am not ready to die. I still haven't mastered that one step. I do have a lot of faults but I am not as willing to say "go ahead and do what you will and I will make the best of it".
I do aspire to be like my big sister. I am grateful to have a sister that I can trust in and look up to. I know you have tried so hard to follow the Savior's example. Thank you for not being perfect, but also thank you for being brave enough to make all those imperfections the best they can be. I know it took so much courage and strength. I know you have "a reservoir of strength that has not been tapped". I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Obituary
Kind of strange that it took me this long to get a hold of her obituary but the week of I wasn't thinking much about saving it. By the time I was it was off of every website I could find. I just happened to find it tonight. Thought I would post it for those of you who didn't get to read it. It is very descriptive. My favorite when he speaks of how she considered mothering a "fine art". I can attest that she did. She worked so hard at it. Also my other favorite is when David writes about her throwing arm. She was always tough:)...
Much loved Melynda Ann Miller Thomas, age 31, died Jan. 11,2012. She was loved by everyone who had the pleasure of knowing her. She was born April 14,1980, to Micheal and Denece Miller. She was sealed to David Lyle Thomas May 1,1999,in the St. George Temple. She will be dearly missed by very many including her husband David and her three little ones, Maya , Macie, and Abbi.
Much loved Melynda Ann Miller Thomas, age 31, died Jan. 11,2012. She was loved by everyone who had the pleasure of knowing her. She was born April 14,1980, to Micheal and Denece Miller. She was sealed to David Lyle Thomas May 1,1999,in the St. George Temple. She will be dearly missed by very many including her husband David and her three little ones, Maya , Macie, and Abbi.
Melynda was a skilled and caring mother. She considered parenting a fine art and an indispensable craft. Since she excelled at all arts and crafts, it follows that she would make a great mom. Patient, caring and fun loving, she was always committed to teaching her girls the skills necessary to become happy, productive little people. Her love for her daughters and their love for her were enormous.
Melynda was a gifted person, perhaps the greatest of which was being able to make close friends. A person couldn’t sit down to talk to Melynda without feeling they had made a life long friend. It was as if she were a rock star when she entered a room sometimes, complete with fanfare and screaming fans. It was awesome to watch.
She was a wonderful wife. Melynda and David had much more than their share of laughs in the twelve years they spent together. David could not have asked for a better wife. She always loved him even as she was throwing a well-deserved pan at him. She always maintained her softball-throwing arm.
No review of Melynda’s life would be complete without the mention of the remarkably wide variety of talents she developed in her life. A first class cook, her parties were famous. As a crafter extraordinaire, she made things that people actually wanted to buy. Floral design, jewelry, furniture making, drawing, scrap booking, clothing design and production, heavy equipment operating, cement flatwork, and more were all things she enjoyed. One of her mottos was “I could make that.”
She had a world-famous laugh and a smile that would make the sun rise. She was truly an amazing person. Passionate about life and always up for an adventure, she always maintained a good attitude, even when things went wrong. Whether it was camping trips from hell, getting lost in Tijuana, or suffering life changing injury, she took life’s setbacks with a smile and asked herself “ What can I learn from this?”
She will be remembered for the many close friendships that she had, the love that she shared freely with everyone and her desire to be of use to her fellow men. She will be remembered for her can-do attitude, her sense of style, and her courage in the face of extreme hardship. For her family, her memory will always define love. And of course she will be remembered for that laugh.Lastly I wanted to add a link to a woman who wrote to our family after Melynda died. She had a daughter, Natalie, who died suddenly a few years back. She and Melynda knew each other in high school. She wrote the most heart felt note to us and I just found that she keeps a blog for her lovely daughter and wrote a post about her and Melynda. Here is also the scripture she left at the end. It is wonderful:
"In the words of Joseph Smith, that “the only difference between the old and young dying is, one lives longer in heaven [the spirit world] and eternal light and glory than the other, and is freed a little sooner from this miserable wicked world. Notwithstanding all this glory, we for a moment lose sight of it,
and mourn the loss, but we do not mourn as those without hope.”
Day 19
Dear Melynda,
I have been having a great day. Now I am in tears. That is just life right now. I have been given a special little present and I want to share it. When you were in the hospital a friend of yours left this message on facebook that contained a letter to him that you had written a year ago. You both had chronic health issues and he had sent you a message and this was your reply. I never saw it until tonight. It was like hearing your voice again! Something I have longed to do. Thank you for that and "thank you" to your wonderful friend, Tommy, for sharing it with us. I sure it was inspired for him to put that there so on a night like tonight it could be there for me...and others, I am sure. There are tender mercies everywhere.
This is a testimony I often heard you bare and share with many. I am glad you may "rest from your labors" for awhile. And in case you don't already know your girls are wonderful, incredible little people who you have taught to be so strong and good. I know you are proud of who they are and who they are becoming.
This letter reminds me of when I came for the second time to Utah after your stroke and stayed with you. You were discouraged. After one particularly hard night, when you couldn't even finish your sentences because it was so hard to talk, I was incredibly worried about. It was all so difficult to understand why you were going through all this. The most incredible day came when I came back a while later and you basically laid it all out. You were so grateful for all that you had been through. Grateful for the testimony you had gained, the knowledge of your Savior you had obtained, and other special spiritual gifts you had obtained that come from no other way but practice.
That was a beautiful day. Not only to see you so happy but to be able to know for sure and gain my own testimony that God knows what he is doing. I know now that that small moment of testimony from you has been part of a foundation that I am now solely relying on . I am trusting in your words and what I already know about Jesus Christ and His promises to get through this.
I have a strong feeling someday, in the next life, we will look back and see the big picture and we will REJOICE in all of this. I anticipate that day with great excitement. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Larin
I have been having a great day. Now I am in tears. That is just life right now. I have been given a special little present and I want to share it. When you were in the hospital a friend of yours left this message on facebook that contained a letter to him that you had written a year ago. You both had chronic health issues and he had sent you a message and this was your reply. I never saw it until tonight. It was like hearing your voice again! Something I have longed to do. Thank you for that and "thank you" to your wonderful friend, Tommy, for sharing it with us. I sure it was inspired for him to put that there so on a night like tonight it could be there for me...and others, I am sure. There are tender mercies everywhere.
This is a testimony I often heard you bare and share with many. I am glad you may "rest from your labors" for awhile. And in case you don't already know your girls are wonderful, incredible little people who you have taught to be so strong and good. I know you are proud of who they are and who they are becoming.
This letter reminds me of when I came for the second time to Utah after your stroke and stayed with you. You were discouraged. After one particularly hard night, when you couldn't even finish your sentences because it was so hard to talk, I was incredibly worried about. It was all so difficult to understand why you were going through all this. The most incredible day came when I came back a while later and you basically laid it all out. You were so grateful for all that you had been through. Grateful for the testimony you had gained, the knowledge of your Savior you had obtained, and other special spiritual gifts you had obtained that come from no other way but practice.
That was a beautiful day. Not only to see you so happy but to be able to know for sure and gain my own testimony that God knows what he is doing. I know now that that small moment of testimony from you has been part of a foundation that I am now solely relying on . I am trusting in your words and what I already know about Jesus Christ and His promises to get through this.
I have a strong feeling someday, in the next life, we will look back and see the big picture and we will REJOICE in all of this. I anticipate that day with great excitement. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Larin
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Day 18
Dear Mel,
I could use a laugh. Just one. That isn't a lot to ask for. Today Carter did something silly. I laughed out loud, hard. I have never been so sad but also found myself so able to laugh. I almost feel like there is some force inside of me that knows you are now silent in this world so I need to make up for the sound of laughter that is now at a deficit. I have never consciously done it but it just slips out. I am so grateful for it. I have trying to relish laughing as much as you did. I am learning to love what a good laugh can do for your spirit. It is a gift from God.
I think that it was one of the things that attracted people to you. You would go and talk to someone new and would continually smile and laugh through the whole conversation. You had a way of making them feel like everything they said and thought mattered. That is why you had a billion friends. The best was when your laugh would become contagious and you could watch them start to light up as well. Others felt better just being around you. I want my kids to run to you and you show them how loved they are. I want to see that light on their faces. I want you to talk to Chris and tease him like no one else can. I want you, me, Cam, Jay, and Chad to all sit in a room and feed off each other with our laugh. Those were the best. It would just get bigger and louder with each laugh.
I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
I could use a laugh. Just one. That isn't a lot to ask for. Today Carter did something silly. I laughed out loud, hard. I have never been so sad but also found myself so able to laugh. I almost feel like there is some force inside of me that knows you are now silent in this world so I need to make up for the sound of laughter that is now at a deficit. I have never consciously done it but it just slips out. I am so grateful for it. I have trying to relish laughing as much as you did. I am learning to love what a good laugh can do for your spirit. It is a gift from God.
I think that it was one of the things that attracted people to you. You would go and talk to someone new and would continually smile and laugh through the whole conversation. You had a way of making them feel like everything they said and thought mattered. That is why you had a billion friends. The best was when your laugh would become contagious and you could watch them start to light up as well. Others felt better just being around you. I want my kids to run to you and you show them how loved they are. I want to see that light on their faces. I want you to talk to Chris and tease him like no one else can. I want you, me, Cam, Jay, and Chad to all sit in a room and feed off each other with our laugh. Those were the best. It would just get bigger and louder with each laugh.
I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Day 17
Dear Melynda,
I don't really have a story today. I just have this sad residing feeling inside of me that I miss you. I am sad for myself and I am sad for all the others who miss you, too. I know I didn't love you the most, loved you a lot, but there were others whose sorrow is deeper. Whose hole is emptier. I sorrow for it all. Tonight I just have a constant ache that has taken hold in my chest and my eyes feel a pressure that won't let go. Mostly though it is in my spirit that I feels it. A deep heaviness. I am coming to visit you in Utah for your birthday, but I won't see your smile or hear your laugh. I won't be able to lay in your bed all night long as we discuss and dissect all aspects of life...or just laugh a lot.
I just thought of one of my favorite memories: David and Chris would play video games until the wee hours of the morning when you were in Hurricane. You and I would hang out, talk, scrapbook, and eventually just go climb in your bed. Resigning ourselves to the fact that they were in another world "saving the universe" and that we should just enjoy our selves while they are away. We would talk and talk and talk until one of us would be mid sentence and fall asleep. That is how we would stay until we were rustled awake by one of them apologetically telling us they were done. I would mumble a confused "goodnight" and we would leave our ritual until next time Star Wars beckoned them.
Flip to a few years later to this summer. You had slept in that morning so after David left I shyly cracked the door to see if you were okay. You said "ya come in". I walked right in and made my way right over to your bed and laid right by you and we fell right back into our old selves. Laying there chatting, laughing, and just having fun together. I was surprised by how comfortable I fell right back into and by how much I had missed it. It was one of my favorite places. Plus it was one of the softest beds I have ever laid in and I made a point to tell you so every time I was there.
When I think back to some of our most private and special conversation many took place laying right there on those pillows. I really yearn to just crawl back in your soft bed and talk over all the cares of the world. Back to easier times when things were clearer to me.
I know that is not why we are here. While I do wish to carry on our amazing traditions and I feel incredibly cheated for everything that has been taken away I don't wish you back. There is not one ounce of me that doesn't knows you are in a good place. There is not one part of me that doubts that you, me, all of us are in Heavenly Father's hands. He cares for us and he keeps us. I know he will help us. His ways are not mine. His are so much more eternally focused and I am grateful for that. I rejoice that after the trials of this life we may resume all these fond rituals and traditions and I am sure we will have time to make more. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
I don't really have a story today. I just have this sad residing feeling inside of me that I miss you. I am sad for myself and I am sad for all the others who miss you, too. I know I didn't love you the most, loved you a lot, but there were others whose sorrow is deeper. Whose hole is emptier. I sorrow for it all. Tonight I just have a constant ache that has taken hold in my chest and my eyes feel a pressure that won't let go. Mostly though it is in my spirit that I feels it. A deep heaviness. I am coming to visit you in Utah for your birthday, but I won't see your smile or hear your laugh. I won't be able to lay in your bed all night long as we discuss and dissect all aspects of life...or just laugh a lot.
I just thought of one of my favorite memories: David and Chris would play video games until the wee hours of the morning when you were in Hurricane. You and I would hang out, talk, scrapbook, and eventually just go climb in your bed. Resigning ourselves to the fact that they were in another world "saving the universe" and that we should just enjoy our selves while they are away. We would talk and talk and talk until one of us would be mid sentence and fall asleep. That is how we would stay until we were rustled awake by one of them apologetically telling us they were done. I would mumble a confused "goodnight" and we would leave our ritual until next time Star Wars beckoned them.
Flip to a few years later to this summer. You had slept in that morning so after David left I shyly cracked the door to see if you were okay. You said "ya come in". I walked right in and made my way right over to your bed and laid right by you and we fell right back into our old selves. Laying there chatting, laughing, and just having fun together. I was surprised by how comfortable I fell right back into and by how much I had missed it. It was one of my favorite places. Plus it was one of the softest beds I have ever laid in and I made a point to tell you so every time I was there.
When I think back to some of our most private and special conversation many took place laying right there on those pillows. I really yearn to just crawl back in your soft bed and talk over all the cares of the world. Back to easier times when things were clearer to me.
I know that is not why we are here. While I do wish to carry on our amazing traditions and I feel incredibly cheated for everything that has been taken away I don't wish you back. There is not one ounce of me that doesn't knows you are in a good place. There is not one part of me that doubts that you, me, all of us are in Heavenly Father's hands. He cares for us and he keeps us. I know he will help us. His ways are not mine. His are so much more eternally focused and I am grateful for that. I rejoice that after the trials of this life we may resume all these fond rituals and traditions and I am sure we will have time to make more. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Day 16
Dear Melynda,
I can think back to so many happy times in your life. You are a generally very happy person. You love to be happy and I often remember hearing you say, "life is good". This always brought me relief in your latter years to hear this because superfically life wasn't good. It was really, really hard for you, but I knew during those moments of "life is good" that you could see the sunshine through all the gray. There was gray but there was so much good. I think the most good you have done is with your girls.
Memory takes me back to the happiest time I think I have ever seen you. You and David had come up to Northern Utah to visit. You were about to pop with another baby girl, or at least in my memory you looked like it. I have this vivid memory of you walking from the kitchen to the couch and you were almost bouncing and filled with a vibrant glow. You had your huge smile across your face and all was right with the world. You had wanted another baby so badly and it had taken you longer than you thought. If there is one thing I know you did right it is being a mom. You are a wonderful mom. You cherish that position above all else, except for being a wife. As Dave put it, you considered it a "fine art". I think that is a great way to put it because fine art takes one part talent and two parts work. You worked hard.
I remember one particular Sunday when Maya was three. She had been really naughty at church, so you came home and sat her on a chair. When it was time you told her she could get off. Well, she got off that chair walked straight over to the fridge, opened it, pulled out a jug a milk and dropped it on the floor spilling it everywhere. She then looked at you with her most defiant look and went and sat back on time out with out a word said. You did so well. I know you lost your cool sometimes but I also saw you show great love and compassion when it was difficult to summon.
Last night with a group of ladies we were discussing how we can show better patience with our own children. I couldn't say it out loud, but I think that is one of the most important things I have learned from you. When I get mad, and I definitely do, I go to a memory of you talking calmly, probably to Maya, and I try to mimic that voice and calmness.
I'm grateful that I was able to see you raise your girls. They were almost exactly the same age as my own kids. I feel it is a special blessing that I was able to spend so much time living under your own roof. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
I can think back to so many happy times in your life. You are a generally very happy person. You love to be happy and I often remember hearing you say, "life is good". This always brought me relief in your latter years to hear this because superfically life wasn't good. It was really, really hard for you, but I knew during those moments of "life is good" that you could see the sunshine through all the gray. There was gray but there was so much good. I think the most good you have done is with your girls.
Memory takes me back to the happiest time I think I have ever seen you. You and David had come up to Northern Utah to visit. You were about to pop with another baby girl, or at least in my memory you looked like it. I have this vivid memory of you walking from the kitchen to the couch and you were almost bouncing and filled with a vibrant glow. You had your huge smile across your face and all was right with the world. You had wanted another baby so badly and it had taken you longer than you thought. If there is one thing I know you did right it is being a mom. You are a wonderful mom. You cherish that position above all else, except for being a wife. As Dave put it, you considered it a "fine art". I think that is a great way to put it because fine art takes one part talent and two parts work. You worked hard.
I remember one particular Sunday when Maya was three. She had been really naughty at church, so you came home and sat her on a chair. When it was time you told her she could get off. Well, she got off that chair walked straight over to the fridge, opened it, pulled out a jug a milk and dropped it on the floor spilling it everywhere. She then looked at you with her most defiant look and went and sat back on time out with out a word said. You did so well. I know you lost your cool sometimes but I also saw you show great love and compassion when it was difficult to summon.
Last night with a group of ladies we were discussing how we can show better patience with our own children. I couldn't say it out loud, but I think that is one of the most important things I have learned from you. When I get mad, and I definitely do, I go to a memory of you talking calmly, probably to Maya, and I try to mimic that voice and calmness.
I'm grateful that I was able to see you raise your girls. They were almost exactly the same age as my own kids. I feel it is a special blessing that I was able to spend so much time living under your own roof. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Monday, March 12, 2012
Day 15
Dear Melynda,
Today I am feeling a little differently than usual. Tonight I was reading in a book about grieving siblings (I hate just thinking those words) and I came across this paragraph:
Because siblings are united by a common bond forged in childhood, we live with the expectation that we'll somehow always be together as we journey through life. Oh, we may divert from the common family path from time to time to pursue our own callings, but only our brothers and sisters know the way back to that original road where, together, we began our odyssey. In an uncertain world that is ever changing, chances are that your brother or sister has been a constant in your life, all your life. Losing a sibling, then, destroys the illusion of permanence in a more profound way than most other deaths....we assume our siblings will grow old alongside us. Naturally we feel abandoned when this assumption is decimated by death. (T.J. Wray)
Sometime it is hard. I feel like so many people have more a of right to be on the "sad train" that I just don't know where I fit in and why I feel this way. Tonight I was reading along and this paragraph just stuck out to me like FINALLY it makes sense.
In regards to that it brings me to a memory that has been playing over and over in my mind. Unfortunately me, Cam, Jay, and Chad have all bonded in a new way. That also includes all their spouses who, also, feel so close to you, too. We have had to rely on each other and hold one another up in a way we never wanted to and sometimes we feel like beating you up for it. None the less this is life and we have to keep going. I really started noticing this new way of bonding when you were first in the hospital and we were constantly calling each other. There were many conversation where little to no word were said. It was just comforting to having someone on the other end who you knew understood.
One of the best memories I have taken home from Utah was not with you directly but about you. The day after you died we all went to dad's house and spent the weekend there to work on arrangements and just be together. Before I left for Utah I somehow had enough of my whits together to gather as many pictures of you that I had. I frantically searched and packed all I could find. That night when everyone had started gathering in the living room, like we always do, I cracked out a stack of photos and started passing them around. It was like bees to honey and it was heaven for just a moment. We mostly laughed, we cried a little, but we all savored each memory and the love that came along with it. It was so neat to see all of us sitting around telling story after story of each picture. It helped us remember what we loved about you and it reminded us of what we would miss. That unsettling finality of it all was beginning to settle in but we had an army to battle it with. We had each other.
In my happy, little mind I imagine you being there laughing, consoling, and enjoying the time together with us, too. We all "started this odyssey" together and I don't think, even now, you are going to leave us behind. Be with us when you can. Give us guidance and strength when we need it and remember we all love you. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Today I am feeling a little differently than usual. Tonight I was reading in a book about grieving siblings (I hate just thinking those words) and I came across this paragraph:
Because siblings are united by a common bond forged in childhood, we live with the expectation that we'll somehow always be together as we journey through life. Oh, we may divert from the common family path from time to time to pursue our own callings, but only our brothers and sisters know the way back to that original road where, together, we began our odyssey. In an uncertain world that is ever changing, chances are that your brother or sister has been a constant in your life, all your life. Losing a sibling, then, destroys the illusion of permanence in a more profound way than most other deaths....we assume our siblings will grow old alongside us. Naturally we feel abandoned when this assumption is decimated by death. (T.J. Wray)
Sometime it is hard. I feel like so many people have more a of right to be on the "sad train" that I just don't know where I fit in and why I feel this way. Tonight I was reading along and this paragraph just stuck out to me like FINALLY it makes sense.
In regards to that it brings me to a memory that has been playing over and over in my mind. Unfortunately me, Cam, Jay, and Chad have all bonded in a new way. That also includes all their spouses who, also, feel so close to you, too. We have had to rely on each other and hold one another up in a way we never wanted to and sometimes we feel like beating you up for it. None the less this is life and we have to keep going. I really started noticing this new way of bonding when you were first in the hospital and we were constantly calling each other. There were many conversation where little to no word were said. It was just comforting to having someone on the other end who you knew understood.
One of the best memories I have taken home from Utah was not with you directly but about you. The day after you died we all went to dad's house and spent the weekend there to work on arrangements and just be together. Before I left for Utah I somehow had enough of my whits together to gather as many pictures of you that I had. I frantically searched and packed all I could find. That night when everyone had started gathering in the living room, like we always do, I cracked out a stack of photos and started passing them around. It was like bees to honey and it was heaven for just a moment. We mostly laughed, we cried a little, but we all savored each memory and the love that came along with it. It was so neat to see all of us sitting around telling story after story of each picture. It helped us remember what we loved about you and it reminded us of what we would miss. That unsettling finality of it all was beginning to settle in but we had an army to battle it with. We had each other.
In my happy, little mind I imagine you being there laughing, consoling, and enjoying the time together with us, too. We all "started this odyssey" together and I don't think, even now, you are going to leave us behind. Be with us when you can. Give us guidance and strength when we need it and remember we all love you. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Day 14
Dear Melynda,
Today I been thinking about such a sad story. At least on my part.
At your funeral I told a story about Abbi. You may not remember that when we were in Utah over the summer, and unexpectedly ended up staying for three months, my kids became REALLY homesick to see their dad. We had already been there a month and a half and were staying with you for the month of July. One day you and I were in your room while you were sewing and Kate came running in. She was so excited and she said, "mom! Look what Abbi gave me. I told her I missed my dad so she gave me her kitty to keep forever so I won't miss him." I smiled and was so happy to see you smiling. In my mind, however, all I thought was "she must not want it anymore because it is a very old mangy looking stuffed animal." We then went home. In September Kate was still carrying this cat around everywhere. To the store, around the house, I had to make her to leave it in the car during church. I just didn't understand her attachment to it. She had a billion (at least it feels like it) stuffed animals around the house but this one was special. Then one day I got it. She knew something I didn't. That cat wasn't old and mangy because Abbi didn't love it. It was old and mangy because Abbi did love it. She treasured it and took it everywhere with her, too. Kate understood on some level that Abbi showed a great deal of love for her in sharing and giving something that had meant a lot to her. I had been taught something wonderful by those two girls about love and what it means to really show it.
Fast forward to that same summer. I had just gotten back from Park City. I bought two things there a new shirt and a pair of sun glasses that I had splurged on. I accidently left them at your house for a couple of days and when I came back you were wearing them. I was so happy you had found them because I didn't know where they were and thought they were gone for good. Unfortuantley for me you had fallen in love with them. Silly I know but you do fall in love with clothes, hair bows, shoes, and purses on a weekly basis. You ever so gently implied that you wanted to keep them. I told you very chagrined that Chris would kill me. I remember after our quick exchange you said, "really you are going to take them?" I said, "ya, sorry!" and left.
Now for some reason I can't stop thinking about that. I realize what I should have know all along. I really think that hurt your feelings. Not in a way that you hated me for but more because I wouldn't share with you something that was important to me. It took you passing away and being left behind with all the things you have given me to see how much you loved to share with people. That was one of the greatest ways you loved. I never understood why you would put all the time and effort into creating gifts for everyone but now I realize it was the ultimate way for you to show you cared. I have always been content with what I could find at the store. It was also the greatest way for someone to show you the same. I really am a slow learner.
I remember one time in Hurricane as a newly wed walking into your garage when you had been working on all your wood work decorations and you saying, "pick out whatever you want". I felt like a kid in a candy shop. Looking at all the beautiful things that you had made yourself. I know they took hours to do. Now each piece has taken on new meaning along with all my new understanding.
I wish I had given you those darn glasses. I wish I would have reciprocated with you in a way you would understand how much I love you. Yes I will share anything. Sorry it took me so long to learn what your seven year old has already mastered.
Abbi, Macie, and Maya are the greatest thing you have given to us all. They are so beautiful inside and out. They are incredible and they have learned to be just like you. Who they are, because of you, is your greatest legacy that you have left here on the earth. I look forward to see who they become as I am sure you do. I am sorry. Please be patient with me. And as always I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Today I been thinking about such a sad story. At least on my part.
At your funeral I told a story about Abbi. You may not remember that when we were in Utah over the summer, and unexpectedly ended up staying for three months, my kids became REALLY homesick to see their dad. We had already been there a month and a half and were staying with you for the month of July. One day you and I were in your room while you were sewing and Kate came running in. She was so excited and she said, "mom! Look what Abbi gave me. I told her I missed my dad so she gave me her kitty to keep forever so I won't miss him." I smiled and was so happy to see you smiling. In my mind, however, all I thought was "she must not want it anymore because it is a very old mangy looking stuffed animal." We then went home. In September Kate was still carrying this cat around everywhere. To the store, around the house, I had to make her to leave it in the car during church. I just didn't understand her attachment to it. She had a billion (at least it feels like it) stuffed animals around the house but this one was special. Then one day I got it. She knew something I didn't. That cat wasn't old and mangy because Abbi didn't love it. It was old and mangy because Abbi did love it. She treasured it and took it everywhere with her, too. Kate understood on some level that Abbi showed a great deal of love for her in sharing and giving something that had meant a lot to her. I had been taught something wonderful by those two girls about love and what it means to really show it.
Fast forward to that same summer. I had just gotten back from Park City. I bought two things there a new shirt and a pair of sun glasses that I had splurged on. I accidently left them at your house for a couple of days and when I came back you were wearing them. I was so happy you had found them because I didn't know where they were and thought they were gone for good. Unfortuantley for me you had fallen in love with them. Silly I know but you do fall in love with clothes, hair bows, shoes, and purses on a weekly basis. You ever so gently implied that you wanted to keep them. I told you very chagrined that Chris would kill me. I remember after our quick exchange you said, "really you are going to take them?" I said, "ya, sorry!" and left.
Now for some reason I can't stop thinking about that. I realize what I should have know all along. I really think that hurt your feelings. Not in a way that you hated me for but more because I wouldn't share with you something that was important to me. It took you passing away and being left behind with all the things you have given me to see how much you loved to share with people. That was one of the greatest ways you loved. I never understood why you would put all the time and effort into creating gifts for everyone but now I realize it was the ultimate way for you to show you cared. I have always been content with what I could find at the store. It was also the greatest way for someone to show you the same. I really am a slow learner.
I remember one time in Hurricane as a newly wed walking into your garage when you had been working on all your wood work decorations and you saying, "pick out whatever you want". I felt like a kid in a candy shop. Looking at all the beautiful things that you had made yourself. I know they took hours to do. Now each piece has taken on new meaning along with all my new understanding.
I wish I had given you those darn glasses. I wish I would have reciprocated with you in a way you would understand how much I love you. Yes I will share anything. Sorry it took me so long to learn what your seven year old has already mastered.
Abbi, Macie, and Maya are the greatest thing you have given to us all. They are so beautiful inside and out. They are incredible and they have learned to be just like you. Who they are, because of you, is your greatest legacy that you have left here on the earth. I look forward to see who they become as I am sure you do. I am sorry. Please be patient with me. And as always I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Day 13
Dear Melynda,
Today has ended well. Today I tried to carry on a conversation with a friend and every other sentence I couldn't get out straight. I think I am tired. She just laughed. I have to be honest. I feel tired. I feel psychically and something else tired. I am not sure what it is. It is something inside that makes me feel like I just want to lay down and sleep. I think it is the daunting task of moving on with life. You see I don't know how. Yup, there you go. Me (who you always thought was such a know-it-all) doesn't know what to do.
Today Kate and I took our lovely time walking around Frederick. There is wonderful boutiques all along Main Street. I know you remember because while I was walking hand-in-hand with Kate I looked across the street and this pain hit me. I looked into the front windows of the shop that we spent hours shopping in. This store is filled with antiques and is deceptively, from the look of the small front door, humongous. If there is one thing you can't resist it is a good deal. We were there for awhile. So here I am walking with Kate and I had the strangest feeling wash over me. I literally wanted to curl up in a ball and just lay on the ground I was hurting so bad. There was literally a porch to someone's townhouse right next to me and I thought, "there is a nice spot". I just wanted to be mad and sit there and shout that it wasn't fair. Then I actually pictured myself doing it and it made me laugh out loud. I have never had a compulsion come over me like that before. Do see all the crazy things you are starting to make me do?
I remember that day. Literally lifting the slab of 1/2 inch thick ice off my car and you saying, "what the heck?! That is why I live in St. George." Followed up with your belly laugh. Taking my three week old baby and going to every shop and walking for hours. You could out shop me any day of the week and I was so exhausted but it was so fun. When I was telling Kate today about our time there she asked me if I bought anything and I said, "No but I am sure your aunt Melynda did. She always found something she loved." I am sure you did even though I can't remember what. I can remember scouring the city streets looking for a fax machine, for something, and you trying to charm the poor bank teller into letting you use theirs. You are shameless (and brave). That is the same day we came home exhausted and frozen and you whipped me up your wonderful biscotti while I laid in bed. It was a good day. One to always remember.
Really though things are generally good I just have this gloom hanging in my heart that I can't seem to kick. Tonight I pulled out my scriptures but decided to go for a General Conference talk instead. I had one of those "flipped to the right page" moments. I turned to this talk. I wanted to share the first story with you:
I love this story and it has stuck with me since General Conference. I thought it wonderful then when I read it tonight and it was just the answer to my prayer that I needed. I realized something. I am very much like that man. I have my "briefcase full". I am doing my business and going about my life. I am doing what is required of me and trying to move forward. However, I realized tonight that I often spend my time "look at the ground". I am just trying so hard to push through that I forget where I can receive real strength from. Not just "enough" strength to get through but the strength to live, learn and thrive like I am meant to. In one part he says,
Why is it a challenge to consistently look up in our lives? Perhaps we lack the faith that such a simple act can solve our problems. For example, when the children of Israel were bitten by poisonous serpents, Moses was commanded to raise up a brass serpent on a pole. The brass serpent represented Christ. Those who looked up at the serpent, as admonished by the prophet, were healed.4 But many others failed to look up, and they perished.5
I don't feel as though I am perishing but I also realized I am not thriving. I hope that you are watching over all of us and maybe giving me just a second of your time every now and then. Maybe you helped me find this talk that I needed so much. Carrying on our tradition.
I hope someday I can go to that store and walk those streets and it can be a place to enjoy and remember. It is difficult to have every thought of you hurt. Especially because in reality you always brought joy wherever you went.
I know that this life isn't the end. I know we have trials to learn from them and that is sincerely what I am trying to do. I know you are okay. I think you miss your girls, your husband, your family and friends, but I know you. I know your perspective is great. It was that way when you were here and I am certain it has broadened even more. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Today has ended well. Today I tried to carry on a conversation with a friend and every other sentence I couldn't get out straight. I think I am tired. She just laughed. I have to be honest. I feel tired. I feel psychically and something else tired. I am not sure what it is. It is something inside that makes me feel like I just want to lay down and sleep. I think it is the daunting task of moving on with life. You see I don't know how. Yup, there you go. Me (who you always thought was such a know-it-all) doesn't know what to do.
Today Kate and I took our lovely time walking around Frederick. There is wonderful boutiques all along Main Street. I know you remember because while I was walking hand-in-hand with Kate I looked across the street and this pain hit me. I looked into the front windows of the shop that we spent hours shopping in. This store is filled with antiques and is deceptively, from the look of the small front door, humongous. If there is one thing you can't resist it is a good deal. We were there for awhile. So here I am walking with Kate and I had the strangest feeling wash over me. I literally wanted to curl up in a ball and just lay on the ground I was hurting so bad. There was literally a porch to someone's townhouse right next to me and I thought, "there is a nice spot". I just wanted to be mad and sit there and shout that it wasn't fair. Then I actually pictured myself doing it and it made me laugh out loud. I have never had a compulsion come over me like that before. Do see all the crazy things you are starting to make me do?
I remember that day. Literally lifting the slab of 1/2 inch thick ice off my car and you saying, "what the heck?! That is why I live in St. George." Followed up with your belly laugh. Taking my three week old baby and going to every shop and walking for hours. You could out shop me any day of the week and I was so exhausted but it was so fun. When I was telling Kate today about our time there she asked me if I bought anything and I said, "No but I am sure your aunt Melynda did. She always found something she loved." I am sure you did even though I can't remember what. I can remember scouring the city streets looking for a fax machine, for something, and you trying to charm the poor bank teller into letting you use theirs. You are shameless (and brave). That is the same day we came home exhausted and frozen and you whipped me up your wonderful biscotti while I laid in bed. It was a good day. One to always remember.
Really though things are generally good I just have this gloom hanging in my heart that I can't seem to kick. Tonight I pulled out my scriptures but decided to go for a General Conference talk instead. I had one of those "flipped to the right page" moments. I turned to this talk. I wanted to share the first story with you:
At the end of a particularly tiring day toward the end of my first week as a General Authority, my briefcase was overloaded and my mind was preoccupied with the question “How can I possibly do this?” I left the office of the Seventy and entered the elevator of the Church Administration Building. As the elevator descended, my head was down and I stared blankly at the floor.
The door opened and someone entered, but I didn’t look up. As the door closed, I heard someone ask, “What are you looking at down there?” I recognized that voice—it was President Thomas S. Monson.
I quickly looked up and responded, “Oh, nothing.” (I’m sure that clever response inspired confidence in my abilities!)
But he had seen my subdued countenance and my heavy briefcase. He smiled and lovingly suggested, while pointing heavenward, “It is better to look up!” As we traveled down one more level, he cheerfully explained that he was on his way to the temple. When he bid me farewell, his parting glance spoke again to my heart, “Now, remember, it is better to look up.”
As we parted, the words of a scripture came to mind: “Believe in God; believe that he is … ; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth.”1 As I thought of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s power, my heart found the comfort I had sought in vain from the floor of that descending elevator.
I know when you were going through hard times I would send you links and clips from some of my favorite talks. Then you would write back about how you felt about them. I remember the last one I sent you was by Elder Uchtdorf called, "Forget Me Not". It is my favorite talk and you shared with me what it meant to you and how you had put its principles to use in your life, so I thought it was my turn to share with you.I love this story and it has stuck with me since General Conference. I thought it wonderful then when I read it tonight and it was just the answer to my prayer that I needed. I realized something. I am very much like that man. I have my "briefcase full". I am doing my business and going about my life. I am doing what is required of me and trying to move forward. However, I realized tonight that I often spend my time "look at the ground". I am just trying so hard to push through that I forget where I can receive real strength from. Not just "enough" strength to get through but the strength to live, learn and thrive like I am meant to. In one part he says,
Why is it a challenge to consistently look up in our lives? Perhaps we lack the faith that such a simple act can solve our problems. For example, when the children of Israel were bitten by poisonous serpents, Moses was commanded to raise up a brass serpent on a pole. The brass serpent represented Christ. Those who looked up at the serpent, as admonished by the prophet, were healed.4 But many others failed to look up, and they perished.5
I don't feel as though I am perishing but I also realized I am not thriving. I hope that you are watching over all of us and maybe giving me just a second of your time every now and then. Maybe you helped me find this talk that I needed so much. Carrying on our tradition.
I hope someday I can go to that store and walk those streets and it can be a place to enjoy and remember. It is difficult to have every thought of you hurt. Especially because in reality you always brought joy wherever you went.
I know that this life isn't the end. I know we have trials to learn from them and that is sincerely what I am trying to do. I know you are okay. I think you miss your girls, your husband, your family and friends, but I know you. I know your perspective is great. It was that way when you were here and I am certain it has broadened even more. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Day 12
Dear Melynda,
I think the greatest challenge we ever faced in our relationship was me growing up. When I was younger I gladly let you assume the mother roll. You cared for me and gave me advice. In some of my most desperate and hardest times I knew I could always confide in you. When I was going to junior high and high school in Northern Utah I would often become so homesick for you I would be shipped down to spend the weekend with you and Dave whenever possible. I would always come back feeling better about life in general. I can't say I remember any grandiose reception I just remember being with you, being loved and cared about, being trusted, and having lots of fun. When we were with you you and Dave's life pretty much revolved around me, Cameron, and Jay.
Then I got older, I got married, and had children. This was so hard. I actually think it is probably similar to what most mother and daughters go through in their own relationships but it was more complicated because our wasn't legitimate. It was just something we had made up and made do with all our lives. I remember one day you and I having a disagreement. Afterward I fiercely apologized but I knew that you were still upset. Well we did what all sister do when the fight and we didn't talk to each other for half the day. I was frustrated because I didn't want it to be that way between us. The big moment for me came when you came to me later wrapped your arms around me in a big hug and said, "I am sorry! I should have accepted your apology the moment you said it." I then went on to say that it was my fault and I am sorry again and again. I just remember that feeling of elation. It was the first time I had felt like you spoke to me not just as a little sister/daughter but as an equal. Like we had both finally come to a point in our lives where we were on the same page wife, mother, adults. So that day in Grandma's driveway the day I felt like you began to see me differently.
Thinking of this argument today not only brought back memories of that day in a good light but also the fact that I wasted half of that precious day fighting with you. Today has also become a day of regret. I am not above regret. I used to believe in the saying, "live without regret". Now I realize not only is that impossible but it also, in my opinion, can come with a feeling of arrogance. I live with regrets because I have made mistakes in my life. There are things I wish I had done differently. I wish I would have called more. Made you answer your phone just so you could tell me to stop calling. I wish I would have hugged you tighter that last time I saw you and made it a memorable good bye. I wish I would have understood your trials better. I wish I would have caught your zest and love for creating. Which I now feeling you are showering down on me each day. I wish I would have written down all you marvelous recipes, especially the ones you created. Now it burns inside every time I want to make something of yours but I can't call ask you for it. I wish I would have never said a word that brought you pain or made you feel less than you are. But I have done all those things and so I live with regret. I do realize that living without regret is impossible. Did I know you were going to die?..No! Did I think you had forever to teach me to sew and create and love it as much as you did?...Yes! Did I honestly believe I had a life time to learn all you secret recipes and cook just like you?...Yes! I honestly believed that we would be two old ladies with houses right next door to each other sitting in our rocking chairs talking about all our neighbors and "kids these days". I expected to have days and days of sewing quilts and cooking all of Grandma Rousell's and Grandma Smith's recipes. I think we had even agreed to do all those things. We had hoped that after spending all these years living on opposite sides of the continent that we would get houses right next to each other. We had decided if we had a life time of our hubbies moving us around. We would choose where we ended up...a very well though out argument, if they did protest, I thought.
What I do hope, and what I think you would want, is that I have learned to take advantage of the moments I am given. I do my best to relish my most important relationships and people. I know that you are...probably....not the last loved who will slip away before I do so I am trying to learn from my regrets. I am trying to cherish what I have and giving space and time to what I will miss most should that person be gone soon.
My heat squeezes at that phrase, "miss most". As I am trying to desperately discern, remember, and pull every memory of you from my mind so I can freeze it forever in words. I am learning not only that it is ginormous task but that it can't all be put to words. I can't say all I miss because so much of it is intangible. I didn't know that the mere fact of you not existing in this world would bring so much pain. That leaves everything else out. Just that idea hurts so much. With that in mind I realize I won't ever be done recording your memories because so many I can't recount in words completely or they may take time to do. I do know that you were a great person and a great sister. I feel lucky to have someone to look up to. I feel blessed that you left this life with a testimony of Jesus Christ. It brings so much peace. I know I will see you again. What a day that will be. I can't wait to see you run. That gives us all hope and something to look forward to. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
I think the greatest challenge we ever faced in our relationship was me growing up. When I was younger I gladly let you assume the mother roll. You cared for me and gave me advice. In some of my most desperate and hardest times I knew I could always confide in you. When I was going to junior high and high school in Northern Utah I would often become so homesick for you I would be shipped down to spend the weekend with you and Dave whenever possible. I would always come back feeling better about life in general. I can't say I remember any grandiose reception I just remember being with you, being loved and cared about, being trusted, and having lots of fun. When we were with you you and Dave's life pretty much revolved around me, Cameron, and Jay.
Then I got older, I got married, and had children. This was so hard. I actually think it is probably similar to what most mother and daughters go through in their own relationships but it was more complicated because our wasn't legitimate. It was just something we had made up and made do with all our lives. I remember one day you and I having a disagreement. Afterward I fiercely apologized but I knew that you were still upset. Well we did what all sister do when the fight and we didn't talk to each other for half the day. I was frustrated because I didn't want it to be that way between us. The big moment for me came when you came to me later wrapped your arms around me in a big hug and said, "I am sorry! I should have accepted your apology the moment you said it." I then went on to say that it was my fault and I am sorry again and again. I just remember that feeling of elation. It was the first time I had felt like you spoke to me not just as a little sister/daughter but as an equal. Like we had both finally come to a point in our lives where we were on the same page wife, mother, adults. So that day in Grandma's driveway the day I felt like you began to see me differently.
Thinking of this argument today not only brought back memories of that day in a good light but also the fact that I wasted half of that precious day fighting with you. Today has also become a day of regret. I am not above regret. I used to believe in the saying, "live without regret". Now I realize not only is that impossible but it also, in my opinion, can come with a feeling of arrogance. I live with regrets because I have made mistakes in my life. There are things I wish I had done differently. I wish I would have called more. Made you answer your phone just so you could tell me to stop calling. I wish I would have hugged you tighter that last time I saw you and made it a memorable good bye. I wish I would have understood your trials better. I wish I would have caught your zest and love for creating. Which I now feeling you are showering down on me each day. I wish I would have written down all you marvelous recipes, especially the ones you created. Now it burns inside every time I want to make something of yours but I can't call ask you for it. I wish I would have never said a word that brought you pain or made you feel less than you are. But I have done all those things and so I live with regret. I do realize that living without regret is impossible. Did I know you were going to die?..No! Did I think you had forever to teach me to sew and create and love it as much as you did?...Yes! Did I honestly believe I had a life time to learn all you secret recipes and cook just like you?...Yes! I honestly believed that we would be two old ladies with houses right next door to each other sitting in our rocking chairs talking about all our neighbors and "kids these days". I expected to have days and days of sewing quilts and cooking all of Grandma Rousell's and Grandma Smith's recipes. I think we had even agreed to do all those things. We had hoped that after spending all these years living on opposite sides of the continent that we would get houses right next to each other. We had decided if we had a life time of our hubbies moving us around. We would choose where we ended up...a very well though out argument, if they did protest, I thought.
What I do hope, and what I think you would want, is that I have learned to take advantage of the moments I am given. I do my best to relish my most important relationships and people. I know that you are...probably....not the last loved who will slip away before I do so I am trying to learn from my regrets. I am trying to cherish what I have and giving space and time to what I will miss most should that person be gone soon.
My heat squeezes at that phrase, "miss most". As I am trying to desperately discern, remember, and pull every memory of you from my mind so I can freeze it forever in words. I am learning not only that it is ginormous task but that it can't all be put to words. I can't say all I miss because so much of it is intangible. I didn't know that the mere fact of you not existing in this world would bring so much pain. That leaves everything else out. Just that idea hurts so much. With that in mind I realize I won't ever be done recording your memories because so many I can't recount in words completely or they may take time to do. I do know that you were a great person and a great sister. I feel lucky to have someone to look up to. I feel blessed that you left this life with a testimony of Jesus Christ. It brings so much peace. I know I will see you again. What a day that will be. I can't wait to see you run. That gives us all hope and something to look forward to. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Day 11
Dear Melynda,
At the risk of being redundant I wanted to sharing something similar today about a conversation I had with Kate. I was trying to explain to her why we can't be mean to people and how kindness is always the way. (I could write a whole post on your philosophy of kindness as well.) Well she didn't like this. We were talking about a friend in particular and she said, "mom I just have a hard time with her and it is just too hard to be nice." Well I was a little stuck I wasn't quite sure where to go with that. I am okay with my child having weakness but how do I teach her that we don't just roll over and say "die" when it is hard. Well since you are my favorite topic of choice right now a wonderful and tender story popped into my head.
I related to Kate about after you had your stroke. You were unable to use half your body and if that wasn't bad enough you were in a wheel chair because of your previous injury. I explained to her that you had a choice to make. You could either stay in your wheelchair and never get better or you could choose to get better. (I remember you telling me of one lady who went to therapy after a stroke and who was your age. She quite after a few weeks and never went back. She will always be paralyzed.) I then explained that getting better wasn't easy. It was painful, it was hard work, and it even made you cry... a lot sometimes...with discouragement. I told her even though it was hard work you did it because you knew it was worth it. I then told her the story about how you told the doctors you were going to be walking again by you 30th birthday. They said there was no way. They said you would be lucky to be up out of your wheel chair in therapy by that time. It was only 9 months after your stroke and accident. But you had made up your mind and you did it on crutches. You were so proud.
I remember two very emotional phone calls of accomplishment I received from you. The first time it is when you opened and closed your hand for the first time without help. I knew it was huge. I knew how much you had payed in pain for each nerve you had to regrow to get your hand to move again. You were elate and I took joy in the simpleness of the blessing you had recieved. I NEVER look at my hand and rejoice that I can open and close it. Now I often find myself caught up in that simple act.
The second was when you took your first step on crutches. You had wanted to be completely walking by April. We wouldn't find out for another year you would never walk on your own again. Those first steps meant so much for you. Crutches were such a blessing. You felt so free and more able to move around and care for your girls. I remember how much it broke my heart when you would go into your girls room to put them to bed but your wheel chair couldn't get in all the way so you would have to stay at the door way and tell them good night. You could never go lay by them, or help pick out their clothes and when they shoved all their dirty clothes into the corner of the room you would never know. That would be every teenagers dream though. :)
Thanks for being someone I can tell my daughter to look up. I know she loves you and she really felt your love so the stories I tell her about you really matter. You are a great sister. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
At the risk of being redundant I wanted to sharing something similar today about a conversation I had with Kate. I was trying to explain to her why we can't be mean to people and how kindness is always the way. (I could write a whole post on your philosophy of kindness as well.) Well she didn't like this. We were talking about a friend in particular and she said, "mom I just have a hard time with her and it is just too hard to be nice." Well I was a little stuck I wasn't quite sure where to go with that. I am okay with my child having weakness but how do I teach her that we don't just roll over and say "die" when it is hard. Well since you are my favorite topic of choice right now a wonderful and tender story popped into my head.
I related to Kate about after you had your stroke. You were unable to use half your body and if that wasn't bad enough you were in a wheel chair because of your previous injury. I explained to her that you had a choice to make. You could either stay in your wheelchair and never get better or you could choose to get better. (I remember you telling me of one lady who went to therapy after a stroke and who was your age. She quite after a few weeks and never went back. She will always be paralyzed.) I then explained that getting better wasn't easy. It was painful, it was hard work, and it even made you cry... a lot sometimes...with discouragement. I told her even though it was hard work you did it because you knew it was worth it. I then told her the story about how you told the doctors you were going to be walking again by you 30th birthday. They said there was no way. They said you would be lucky to be up out of your wheel chair in therapy by that time. It was only 9 months after your stroke and accident. But you had made up your mind and you did it on crutches. You were so proud.
I remember two very emotional phone calls of accomplishment I received from you. The first time it is when you opened and closed your hand for the first time without help. I knew it was huge. I knew how much you had payed in pain for each nerve you had to regrow to get your hand to move again. You were elate and I took joy in the simpleness of the blessing you had recieved. I NEVER look at my hand and rejoice that I can open and close it. Now I often find myself caught up in that simple act.
The second was when you took your first step on crutches. You had wanted to be completely walking by April. We wouldn't find out for another year you would never walk on your own again. Those first steps meant so much for you. Crutches were such a blessing. You felt so free and more able to move around and care for your girls. I remember how much it broke my heart when you would go into your girls room to put them to bed but your wheel chair couldn't get in all the way so you would have to stay at the door way and tell them good night. You could never go lay by them, or help pick out their clothes and when they shoved all their dirty clothes into the corner of the room you would never know. That would be every teenagers dream though. :)
Thanks for being someone I can tell my daughter to look up. I know she loves you and she really felt your love so the stories I tell her about you really matter. You are a great sister. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Day 11
Dear Melynda,
Just for your little update. Everyone is doing good. This week has been a very good week. They other day I talked to Jayanne and we always ask the "how are you doing today?" We were using a rating system at first, when you were in the hospital and right after you died, between 1 and 10 because it was the dumbest question to ask. In the beginning there weren't really words. We all new how everyone was doing...terrible, but the question always came up anyway. Now though the emotion vary day to day so it is a justified question. I asked Jay and she said, "I am doing much better than last week. I am in denial." I said, "Well it seems like denial is a pretty good place to be then". She sounded happier than she had in awhile. I think I am there right now too. I know it won't last but I am just enjoying my productivity that is a direct result of my state of denial I am in right now.
On that note I was thinking of you over the past couple of days. Denial has brought me a wonderful sense of humor. I am working on a secret project right for your girls. I will tell you more later..even though you know already what it is. I have had to crack out my sewing machine again I know you are secretly smiling at me up there because of it. You always worked so hard to get me to do sewing projects with you. Remember all that material we bought when Joe was born to make a skirts for Kate. Well lets just say I haven't sown one stitch since you left. Now I feel so guilty about it that I am going to have to finish and pass them along to Josalyn.
Well my super secret project got me thinking of you. At your viewing Dave's sister, Debbie, started talking to me about the summer that Lyla started teaching you how to sew. She bought you a new sewing machine and you learned to make these draw string skirts. She was laughing because once you learned how to make them you made a ton of them. For everyone who was staying at the Thomas' home. Which was a lot because all their family was visiting. What I remember most about you learning how to sew was how angry it made you. I still can remember all the threats you made to throw that sewing machine in the pool. You would come out ranting and raving about something that was all the sudden going wrong with the machine and how you were going to just toss it in the pool. David and I stepped lightly during these moments. Eventually you would figure it out and would go on to design and sew your own clothes...with a much better machine mind you.
It also, shamefully, reminds me of the month after your stroke. As project oriented as you are you needed something to do, I already mentioned all the canning you did about the same time. Somehow you talked Jayanne and I into making Halloween bags with you. Well we set out designing , cutting, and sewing them. You shamed us real good! Jay and I were still cutting ours out and I was just starting to sew my first bag when you finished the last stitch on your third bag. It was ridiculous. And you only sewed with one arm! We all had a good laugh about and did for the last couple of years. Whenever you would mention sewing projects to me I would sheepishly remind you of that story so you would remember what you were getting yourself into. You would push through and insist on doing it anyway.
Melynda Thomas can do hard things! I will always remember that about you. You did hard things over and over again. Just when we all thought God was done teaching you a lesson he would give you one more to learn. I don't begrudge him and I know you didn't either. I know it was hard. Of course it was. Sometimes you figuratively wanted to take all your trials and "throw them in the pool". That is the best part though. It was hard for you but then after you faced the fact that this was hard you made a mental choice to go for it anyway. No matter how hard it was or how many times it took to get it right.
It is easy when someone is gone to take there life and memorialize into a floating life of perfection. But I can't do it! I won't do it. That is what I have come to appreciate the most about your life. You took all that hard and messy stuff and said, "look what I can do with it". This is what I will teach your girls. That their mom did hard things. That they are a Miller/Thomas and they too can do hard things. (The stubbornness is Miller trait but I know you adopted many Thomas traits of perseverance and commitment.) Heaven knows at times life with be hard.
Thank you for watching over us. I really appreciated that special moment the other day. I haven't felt you that close since the last time I saw you. Don't forget about Jay and I. We want to help and do what you would have us do for your sweet little family. Everything we do for them we try to do with you in mind. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Just for your little update. Everyone is doing good. This week has been a very good week. They other day I talked to Jayanne and we always ask the "how are you doing today?" We were using a rating system at first, when you were in the hospital and right after you died, between 1 and 10 because it was the dumbest question to ask. In the beginning there weren't really words. We all new how everyone was doing...terrible, but the question always came up anyway. Now though the emotion vary day to day so it is a justified question. I asked Jay and she said, "I am doing much better than last week. I am in denial." I said, "Well it seems like denial is a pretty good place to be then". She sounded happier than she had in awhile. I think I am there right now too. I know it won't last but I am just enjoying my productivity that is a direct result of my state of denial I am in right now.
On that note I was thinking of you over the past couple of days. Denial has brought me a wonderful sense of humor. I am working on a secret project right for your girls. I will tell you more later..even though you know already what it is. I have had to crack out my sewing machine again I know you are secretly smiling at me up there because of it. You always worked so hard to get me to do sewing projects with you. Remember all that material we bought when Joe was born to make a skirts for Kate. Well lets just say I haven't sown one stitch since you left. Now I feel so guilty about it that I am going to have to finish and pass them along to Josalyn.
Well my super secret project got me thinking of you. At your viewing Dave's sister, Debbie, started talking to me about the summer that Lyla started teaching you how to sew. She bought you a new sewing machine and you learned to make these draw string skirts. She was laughing because once you learned how to make them you made a ton of them. For everyone who was staying at the Thomas' home. Which was a lot because all their family was visiting. What I remember most about you learning how to sew was how angry it made you. I still can remember all the threats you made to throw that sewing machine in the pool. You would come out ranting and raving about something that was all the sudden going wrong with the machine and how you were going to just toss it in the pool. David and I stepped lightly during these moments. Eventually you would figure it out and would go on to design and sew your own clothes...with a much better machine mind you.
It also, shamefully, reminds me of the month after your stroke. As project oriented as you are you needed something to do, I already mentioned all the canning you did about the same time. Somehow you talked Jayanne and I into making Halloween bags with you. Well we set out designing , cutting, and sewing them. You shamed us real good! Jay and I were still cutting ours out and I was just starting to sew my first bag when you finished the last stitch on your third bag. It was ridiculous. And you only sewed with one arm! We all had a good laugh about and did for the last couple of years. Whenever you would mention sewing projects to me I would sheepishly remind you of that story so you would remember what you were getting yourself into. You would push through and insist on doing it anyway.
Melynda Thomas can do hard things! I will always remember that about you. You did hard things over and over again. Just when we all thought God was done teaching you a lesson he would give you one more to learn. I don't begrudge him and I know you didn't either. I know it was hard. Of course it was. Sometimes you figuratively wanted to take all your trials and "throw them in the pool". That is the best part though. It was hard for you but then after you faced the fact that this was hard you made a mental choice to go for it anyway. No matter how hard it was or how many times it took to get it right.
It is easy when someone is gone to take there life and memorialize into a floating life of perfection. But I can't do it! I won't do it. That is what I have come to appreciate the most about your life. You took all that hard and messy stuff and said, "look what I can do with it". This is what I will teach your girls. That their mom did hard things. That they are a Miller/Thomas and they too can do hard things. (The stubbornness is Miller trait but I know you adopted many Thomas traits of perseverance and commitment.) Heaven knows at times life with be hard.
Thank you for watching over us. I really appreciated that special moment the other day. I haven't felt you that close since the last time I saw you. Don't forget about Jay and I. We want to help and do what you would have us do for your sweet little family. Everything we do for them we try to do with you in mind. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Lar
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Day 10
First I want to apologize for any who might me following this trip down memory lane. My computer is on fritz right now.
Dear Melynda,
Who would ever think that a funeral would be a popularity contest? It was impossible during something like to take time to pause and think what if this was me? Who would come? Who would care? Then there are the more important questions like: Have I done all that I wanted and all that I was meant to do? Have I helped those around me enough? And probably most important: Did I show and tell those I am leaving behind that I love them?
I know I wasn't the only one during those first few days, after you were gone, wondering these things. It is a huge blessing to be shoved into that sort of reality. It awakens apart of you you didn't know was sleeping. Not only does you appreciation for life increase but also your desire to make this life something of value and good also.
All I can really sum it up in is that I am proud to be your sister. I remember going places with you. When I brought you, I brought the fun! People loved to be around you because they felt better about life and about themselves when they were around you. I remember you being around even the most stone, cold people and eventually you could get them to crack a smile, if not more. I think it was that laugh of yours that eventually wore them down.
Looking back now it is easier to see what a good friend you were. Mostly I can see what you did for me and how you replicated that act over and over again for many others. You love, you cared, you gave, you nurtured, and mostly you made us all smile. You helped us all feel welcome in your life. I witness what a true friend can do. They create fiercely loyal and devoted friends. Friends who will be around even after you are gone to help us move on. Thank you for that gift.
I guess more than anything as I have had time to reflect and ponder over over my memories I am most grateful for your example. In church we are constantly taught to be like our Savior Jesus Christ. That can be a hard thing to put into perspective. There are so many things now that I can see him acting through you for the benefit of others. Remember when I called you are crazy because I just had a baby. You listened to me for five minutes got Chris on the phone and said, "she has postpartum depression. Take her to the doc. It will help everything." You saved me from one of the most difficult times in my life. I feel strongly that you were being a helper to Him.
I feel I am completely unable to express this subject properly about you. I can remember being younger and I would talk to my friends about you at random. Something I do now even more. I just wanted everyone to know how great you are and, even more, I felt no one could possible have a sister that great.
I fear that as time moves on my memories will dim. That is probably one of the cruelest tricks of all. It is hard enough to lose you but to lost all these things so dear to me makes me ache already. I pray they may stay and I can always remember how wonderful it is to know and be your sister. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Laurin
Dear Melynda,
Who would ever think that a funeral would be a popularity contest? It was impossible during something like to take time to pause and think what if this was me? Who would come? Who would care? Then there are the more important questions like: Have I done all that I wanted and all that I was meant to do? Have I helped those around me enough? And probably most important: Did I show and tell those I am leaving behind that I love them?
I know I wasn't the only one during those first few days, after you were gone, wondering these things. It is a huge blessing to be shoved into that sort of reality. It awakens apart of you you didn't know was sleeping. Not only does you appreciation for life increase but also your desire to make this life something of value and good also.
All I can really sum it up in is that I am proud to be your sister. I remember going places with you. When I brought you, I brought the fun! People loved to be around you because they felt better about life and about themselves when they were around you. I remember you being around even the most stone, cold people and eventually you could get them to crack a smile, if not more. I think it was that laugh of yours that eventually wore them down.
Looking back now it is easier to see what a good friend you were. Mostly I can see what you did for me and how you replicated that act over and over again for many others. You love, you cared, you gave, you nurtured, and mostly you made us all smile. You helped us all feel welcome in your life. I witness what a true friend can do. They create fiercely loyal and devoted friends. Friends who will be around even after you are gone to help us move on. Thank you for that gift.
I guess more than anything as I have had time to reflect and ponder over over my memories I am most grateful for your example. In church we are constantly taught to be like our Savior Jesus Christ. That can be a hard thing to put into perspective. There are so many things now that I can see him acting through you for the benefit of others. Remember when I called you are crazy because I just had a baby. You listened to me for five minutes got Chris on the phone and said, "she has postpartum depression. Take her to the doc. It will help everything." You saved me from one of the most difficult times in my life. I feel strongly that you were being a helper to Him.
I feel I am completely unable to express this subject properly about you. I can remember being younger and I would talk to my friends about you at random. Something I do now even more. I just wanted everyone to know how great you are and, even more, I felt no one could possible have a sister that great.
I fear that as time moves on my memories will dim. That is probably one of the cruelest tricks of all. It is hard enough to lose you but to lost all these things so dear to me makes me ache already. I pray they may stay and I can always remember how wonderful it is to know and be your sister. I miss you. I love you!
Love, Laurin
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