Death Of A Friend

A friend of mine, from college, passed away unexpectedly yesterday.

He and I haven't seen each other since those days back at the little small Bible college in the Iowa countryside.  But, thanks to Facebook, we had reconnected and been involved, from afar, with each other's lives.

He was a pastor in Illinois.

He had a wife.

He had 6 children.

He was really one of the nicest, sweetest people I have ever met.  I can remember so many times back in college when he was that listening ear for someone going through some stupid relationship crisis. The thing was, Steve never made you feel stupid or that you were being overly emotional.

He just listened.

He just gave a hug.

He just cracked a sly little joke to make you laugh...even just a little.

He was just....nice.

Again, I haven't seen him face to face in over 20 years....but he would send me words of encouragement.  He would comment on my posts.  He made you feel like he really cared.

This really struck me pretty hard today.

I cried.

I am crying for his wife.

I am crying for his 6 children (who aren't as young as my 6)....but....this is still their daddy.  You know?

But, of course, I also turned it into being about me too.

I put myself in Linnea's shoes.

What if something happened to Rainman unexpectedly?

Ugg....I can't even go there.

It was bad enough when my dad died without warning.

Death is hard.

Yes, as Christians, we have hope.  We have Jesus.  We know the end here...isn't....the end.

But, man oh man.....it is lonely here without our....people.  It is crushing to try to move on without them. It is almost impossible to let yourself laugh again or have hope for....everything.

The realities of life outside of the lonely aspect get to me too.

How do you pay bills....how do you pay your mortgage....do you stay in the house you had together.....do you keep the bed you slept in together......how do you survive  the first Thanksgiving....Christmas....birthday....kid activity?

Again....I can't go there.

I woke up this morning singing the song, I Have To Believe, in my head.  I actually get to sing this one on Sunday, but the words spoke to me in a different way today.

Then, my alarm went off and the song Because He Lives by Matt Maher came on.  I just laid in bed listening and didn't turn off my alarm.  Rainman came out of the bathroom because he thought I had already gotten up and forgotten to turn off my alarm.  He listened for a few minutes, nodded his head, and went back to shaving.

I hope you have time to listen to both of these songs today.  Listen and really let the words  sink in.

Even if you are aren't grieving the loss of a friend or loved one.....let them have a chance to speak to your soul.

Dream Analysis

Any of you guys do any dream analysis?  Have a book that explains them?

I had a weird one last night, but I have a few recurring ones that I would love somebody to tell me what they mean!  My most frequent one isn't being naked, or even showing up for a class I have never been in just in time for the final exam.  Nope.  None of those standard ones.

Mine is that my teeth are crumbling and falling out.  Anyone?

Last night's dream was strange in that the location changed a few times, from scene to scene.  I was at my current home in some and at my childhood home in others.  It started with A-man playing with a ceramic camel and chipping his tooth.  I was upset, so I went up to my room crying that my baby had chipped his perfect little face.  Rainman was there too and was trying to calm me down and say that having a chipped front tooth hadn't hurt his chances with the ladies - i.e. me.

Again - weirdness - because I went "up" to my room to throw myself on my pillow and cry.  But, at this house, my room is not "up".  However, my childhood bedroom is up.  The 3 littles followed me to the bedroom and were trying to comfort me.  A-man was just so sad that I was crying....that he had made me cry.   All of a sudden,  we heard a really loud voice from downstairs.  It was one of those times where I shushed everyone and tried eavesdropping from the crack of my bedroom door.....because I knew something wasn't right.  I didn't recognize the voice, but they were asking for help moving something.

Weird thing coming:  Somehow Rainman was no longer the man downstairs at the house, it was my dad.  My dad who has been gone for 4 years now.  Somehow, he  was still alive in my dream.....and it was current time, because the kids were the same ages they are now.  But, in my dream, Rainman just morphed into my dad and I didn't think it was anything strange in my dream.

I heard Dad tell then he would help but that he had to get dressed.  He came upstairs, I told the kids to stay put and be quiet and I snuck into his bedroom to see what was going on.  He said he didn't want them to know there was anybody else here, so we needed to be quiet.  He said he was going to try to help them - but he didn't think they really needed help.  But, wanted them away from the house, so we could call for help.  There was a whispered 911 call and even a red car filled with hit men heading up to our shed (childhood home).  But, then at one point the kids and I had snuck down to the basement and were planning to either hide out or sneak to the neighbors house via our shop door.  (current home).

I won't go into much more detail - because I am still trying to take A-girl's advice and keep it short - plus, I have no pictures of my dreams to break up my boring monologue. I will just put in this artsy picture taken by D-man.  It is sort of dream like, isn't it?

But, it was weird because as things kept unfolding, in some scenes, I was peering out of my childhood bedroom window and sometimes I was looking out my living room window at my own house.   I don't know where my mom or Rainman were in my dream.

It was just weird and I woke up with my heart pounding.  And then, had that truly sad realization that my Dad is gone and wasn't still with us.

Maybe I was thinking about dads because this week is always a hard one for Rainman.  His dad's birthday was a few days ago (he would have been 94) and the anniversary of his passing would have been today.

I never met his dad, but I remember the day/date he passed because Rainman and I have a sort of joke that we were both crying on October 3, 1992.

Want to know why I was crying on that day?

That was the day I married  my first husband.  And, yes, I really did cry that day - because, deep down, I knew I was making a big mistake, but I didn't know how to turn back and do the hard thing of calling it off.  So, I told myself everything would be better after the craziness of the wedding was over.  Oh, silly, naive little me.

Anyway, my point is that maybe I was thinking about Rainman's dad, which morphed my subconscious into thinking about my own dad and his protecting me/us....even when it was scary and hard.  I don't know.  I just miss him still.  It is the worst feeling when you wake up and have to remember that they are gone.

So, really.  Anybody actually know anything about dream analysis?

 I am really interested in the whole teeth crumbling and falling out thing!  Really.

May 22nd Weirdness

May 22nd has been a weird day for me, for a long time.

Normally....especially in Minnesota.....the end of May is a joyous time because spring has finally sprung and things are warming up and all of that jazz.  May weather is very different here in Georgia...all that spring has sprung stuff starts back in February.

But, May 22nd is still a weird day for me, because.....this was my son.

I have moved on from the mind numbing grief.  I truly have joy filled days in my life.

But, every May 22nd, I can't help but wonder what our lives would have been like if Stevie had lived. He would have been 16 this year and driving.  It is when I start thinking about stuff like that that it gets weird.... and, yes, sad.

The kids all know about their brother and we talk about him and the other brothers and sisters that they have lost.  We visit his grave when we go up to Minnesota for visits.  The kids  talk about how cool it would be to have 10 kids in our family instead of 6, if I hadn't had the other miscarriages with Peanut Baby and the twins, in addition to Stevie.  In their minds, that would basically mean we would have our own reality t.v. show though!  

I don't have anything profound to end this post with either.  Other than the fact that Stevie is the reason that I was okay going on and having 6 kids, and I would have more.  Because Stevie showed me that life  is a miracle and yes..... a gift.... that should be freely accepted and enjoyed as long as you can.  I never wanted to say no to that gift. So, I didn't.  I won't.

I hesitated to even post this.  Too personal.  Too hard to fit into a neat little box of types of posts. But I am working on an article about the unrealistic/unattainable ideas we are sending out into the world with our "everything is perfect and wonderful in my life" posts.  So, I am trying to be transparent and not just show the good side of everything.  My life has been wonderful, but moments have certainly not been perfect.

So, here is my moment of transparency for the day.   I am a little sad today.

My Dad....The Teacher

For as far back as I can remember, my Dad was always teaching.  Teaching our family....and anybody else who was interested in listening. 

Teaching people about God. Teaching people about the Bible.  Teaching people about the gift of salvation.  He started Bible study groups on his lunch hour at Honeywell.  He taught adult Sunday School classes in church.  He had family Bible study time after dinner.  He would invite Jehovah's Witnesses into the house to discuss the Bible.

I was so used to it, I didn't realize how special he was.   He dedicated much of his life to being open for opportunities to enlighten people about the beauty of what Jesus Christ did for us.

You may remember that my Dad passed away very quickly and unexpectedly a few months ago.  It was the day after his 78th birthday.  I had a great conversation with him on his birthday.  The next day was a Sunday and he was set to be a substitute preacher at my home church.

My brother, Kevin, after talking to Dad on his birthday, decided to come hear my Dad preach....since he hadn't heard him in a while.  My Dad was a great teacher....a bit long-winded for some....because he always backed everything up with scripture.  He would have you flipping back and forth all over your Bible....even if you just asked a "simple" question.  My mom would frequently remind him not to talk to long when he was teaching.  But, many times, he got so excited about what he was trying to get across to you....he couldn't stop himself.

Kevin, at the last minute, decided to grab his video camera and film my Dad.

My Dad passed away that afternoon.

My siblings and I also decided that we wanted to video tape my dad's service....partly because, at the time, everything was such a blur and we thought maybe someday when things weren't so raw, we would like to remember what was said....and who was there.

In case you are interested.....here is my Dad's last sermon on this earth.  I have not been able to watch it yet. 

His title for it was Healing Covenants.

The end of my Dad's sermon is in Part 2, below.  My brother also split my Dad's service into smaller parts....

This is me and my sisters, Karen and Kandi, singing one my Dad's favorite songs. He had actually told us for years that he wanted us to sing at his funeral....and what songs he wanted us to do.  (It starts at about 11:00 minutes) The end of this section is the start of my brother's sermon (at about 20:00 min)

This is end of Kevin preaching.... just like my Dad.  My sisters and I sing another of Dad's favorites at about 13:30 minutes in.

My sister, Kandi, and I were able to share a few memories of Dad.  They start at about 17:30 (above - Part 3)...and finish up in the last segment below (Part 4).

I would like to be able to end this post with something deep and profound....but I can't seem to come up with anything.....other than, I loved my Dad and really miss him.

I will end with what ended up being our verse/theme for Dad's service:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

He leads me beside quiet waters,

He restores my soul,

He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

For you are with me,

Your rod and your staff they comfort me

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

You anoint my head with oils,

My cup overflows,

Surely goodness and love will follow me

All the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord.....forever.

Psalms 23

More About My Dad...

I have been thinking a lot about  my dad lately.  Mostly about he and my mom.  I told you they had been married over 51 years when he died and I showed you this wedding picture....

But, this is too formal of a shot to show you what they were really like....

My sister, Karen, is a long time scrapbooker and had a lot of beautiful scrapbooks that she had made on display at my Dad's visitation.  My sister, Kandi, sorted through the scrapbooks and her own vast amount of pictures that she had taken and put together display boards of some of our favorite pictures of Dad.

Even though I was very much still in a fog-like state that whole week, I had the presence of mind to take pictures of some of my favorites that my talented sisters had on display.

These pictures show what life with parents, who really loved each other, was like...

I didn't do a good job of getting this one captured on film....my flash reflected off my mom....but, that is them smooching....I think as newlyweds....or a newly engaged couple....

And, again....and, again....I think you get the idea....there was a lot of smooching going on.

I shared in this post about my memories of Dad, one of which was him going to find my mom every day when he got home from work.  I was able to share this at his funeral, also. 

I remember that he would come in the front door from work and head up the three steps, to the kitchen, where mom was cooking. 

I remember, they would stand in the middle of the kitchen hugging and sort of swaying back forth.

I remember when I was little, trying to break in and get in on their hug (sometimes they would let me and sometimes they wouldn't....that time was just for them). 

I remember that the hug would almost always end with Dad giving mom a little swat on the rear before he went off to try to read the newspaper on the couch.

I remember when I was a teenager being embarrassed that my parents kissed and hugged....and other things....as evidenced by the fact that I have a much younger sister who came along, when I, the baby of the family, was 12.

Sometime in my adult years, I made the transition from embarrassment to admiration and hopefulness that I would be able to find someone who would stand in the kitchen and hug me, like my Dad hugged my Mom, at the end of a hard day. 

I am proud to say that Rainman and I are carrying on Mom and Dad's tradition of hugging and kissing in the kitchen.....and, I am assuming, from the chorus of "Eeeewww's" that we get...we are also carrying on the tradition of embarrassing our children.

V-girl even stands near us making the kissy noises....and she and S-girl will usually try to get in on the action....sometimes we let them....and sometimes we don't.

A-man has been very interesting since my dad died.  At first, I wasn't sure that he even really "got it" that Grandpa was gone.  As we were traveling on our drive back to Minnesota....I would cry....get myself under control....then, I would talk to someone on the cell phone...and I would cry some more.

He finally just said, "Mom, why don't you just stop talking about Grandpa Doug?  Then you won't cry anymore."

Since we have gotten home, he has been really....I don't know....sensitive and thoughtful....he seems to be always watching and lurking to see if I have been crying...if I look like I am going to cry.... or, if I just look sad.  He will come over and give me a big hug....look into my eyes....and walk away.

The other night, Rainman and all of the kids were out swimming.  After about 15 minutes or so, A-man came inside.  Usually he is the first in the pool and the last out of the pool. 

Here he is swimming with his cousin, Rob....just another typical day of swimming in A-man's life.  He is the "Life of the Pool Party".

So, I asked him why he had come in so early when everyone else was still out there....and probably would be for quite a while. He looked at me for a few seconds longer than normal, then just said that he was just done swimming.

Later that night, he and Rainman went to the store to get some milk....just the two of them.  Somehow a discussion of why he had stopped swimming so early came up.  A-man told Rainman that he thought I had looked sad earlier in the day and he wanted to come in and check on me to make sure I wasn't crying.

This next picture will really only mean something to my family....and people that knew my Dad....check out his pocket.....

This is A-man being like Grandpa Doug......

He told me that he wasn't going to smile with his teeth, because Grandpa Doug didn't do that.

He told me that since Grandpa Doug is dead and I won't get to see him again until I get to heaven....he wanted to try to be like him....for me...so I won't be so sad. 

He has already checked most of his shirts to see if they have a Grandpa Doug pocket.

My Dad.....

This was my dad from August 27, 2010....his birthday.  He, my mom, my sister and her family were on their way to Georgia to visit.  That trip would be the last time I would see my dad. 

This year, I called my dad on his birthday.  Since my mom was out of town, he and I actually talked for about 20 minutes.  Normally, if mom is around, he and I would exchange pleasantries and then he would say, "Well, here's your mother."  But, this time, he and I talked.  I went out on our screened porch so I could have a peaceful talk with him.  We talked about some dreams I had been having, him feeling like he was fighting some sort of bug, the sermon he was going to preach the next day, mom being away on a girls trip with my cousins and lots of other seemingly insignificant stuff.

Throughout Dad's birthday weekend, my siblings and nieces popped in to see my dad.  My brother stopped over on Saturday and found out that Dad was preaching the next day.  My brother decided to skip his own church service that Sunday and go listen to my dad.  At the last minute, he decided to grab his video camera to tape it.

My dad died sometime Sunday afternoon, August 28, 2011....alone....peacefully....at home.

We are all still in shock.  I knew that this day would someday come, but, I thought when that day came, I would have some warning, so I could flip the switch in my brain to know that he wouldn't be around for much longer.  My switch hadn't flipped yet.  I was expecting to see him when we went up in October for an early family Christmas and again this coming winter when we went to see them in Arizona.

We are heart broken.

We know he is in heaven.

As horrible as this is, there have been blessings from God sprinkled throughout this whole thing:

* We had ALL talked to him on his birthday, the day before (The last thing I said to my dad was, "I love you, Dad."  His last words to me were, "Same here.")
* My brother deciding to go and listen to my dad's sermon.....and video taping it
* That my Dad went quickly and peacefully (blessing for him...not so much for us)
* That my sisters and I were able to sing at the funeral (something he had wanted for years and we had adamantly told him we were NOT going to do....but we did and we sang the songs he had wanted us to sing.)
* That my brother was able to share the gospel/salvation message at Dad's funeral

There are many more, but, I just feel like God knows how heart broken we are and is doing what he can to ease that burden for us.

We drove the 18 or so hours to and from Minnesota twice this past week.  That is a hard drive anytime, but knowing what was in store for us....made it harder. 

At some point during the week, A-man told me that I just needed to stop talking about Grandpa Doug, because it just made me cry whenever I talked about him.

I tried to explain that Grandpa Doug was my Dad.....then I said he was my Daddy....thinking that might make more sense to a 6 year old. 

That reminded me of my last Facebook interaction with Dad.  I had gotten up on his birthday and sent a quick message saying, "Happy Birthday, Daddy!".....then I realized that I was actually on D-man's account....so I quickly explained to Dad that I didn't realize D-man was still be logged on....and that the birthday wishes were from me and not D-man.  My Dad, replied that he figured that had been the case. 

D-man asked why I had called my Dad..."Daddy", which I don't ever do.  I told him, that down here in the South, many grown women seem to still refer to their fathers as "Daddy"....so  I was kind of trying it on for size....it didn't fit.  So, I went over to my own page and said, "Happy Birthday, Dad....talk to you soon."

But now that "Daddy" is gone, I wonder if that wasn't a little blessing from God too.....referring to him one last time as my Daddy.

The Daddy who even though he had a long day at work and just wanted to lay on the couch and read his newspaper - would still play games with me.

The Daddy who would give me whisker rubs after his hunting trips to northern Minnesota.

The Daddy who would who would come rub his smooth, Old Spice, smelling face on me after shaving.

The Daddy who told me that I would grow up to be pretty, after one of my crying spells during puberty.

The Daddy who was married to my Mom for 51 years....

...and would go find her as soon as he got home from work so he could give her a hug (and then swat her behind) - before he would go lay on the couch to be bothered by me.

The Daddy who taught me how much God loves me.

The Daddy who taught me to love the Lord.


I saw Dad in August of 2010....but, somehow, I did not get any pictures of him....except this one...

This is the only picture I have of us from the last time I saw my Dad. We went to the Coca-Cola Museum in Atlanta...

Dad and Mom came to visit us here in Georgia shortly after we moved....they helped me hang pictures and curtains and make the house a home....these are some of the last pictures I have with Dad and my kids....

I will let you in on a little secret....D-man's real name is Doug....named after my Dad.

We worked them so hard that we had to have a soak in the hot tub...

I miss you, Dad!

12 Years Ago

Around this time, twelve years ago I had a very active toddler and was pregnant with number two.  Things did not go as planned. 

Some days I forget.  Some days I don't.  In some ways it feels like he died just a little while ago.....and in some ways it seems like a lifetime ago.

It was a shock.  I had felt him move.  I had seen two ultrasounds with him flipping and moving around.  In one of them it looked like his little legs were pumping like a runner.  The ultrasound technician told me I was about to have my hands full with 2 busy little ones.  I had no worries. 

But then, I had a few days where I couldn't  remember if I had felt him move....

I went to my next appointment with D-man in tow.  I had encouraged Rainman to go golfing with my dad and not come with me as he usually did when he wasn't working.  I shouldn't have done that.

She couldn't find a heartbeat.  She took me to the ultrasound room and all the while reassured me that I shouldn't worry, that there were all sorts of reasons that she could have had trouble finding a heartbeat.  She was very sweet.  The ultrasound technician started her job.... 

It was, sort of, an out of body experience for me.  I remember seeing D-man rifling through my purse on the floor and his look of triumph as he got my Chapstick out.  I also remember hearing a really loud kind of primal cry and thinking, "What was that?"  "Where did that come from?", and then realizing it was me.

I remember little D-man, still clutching the Chapstick, climbing up to me on the table and giving me a hug....looking deep into my eyes....and climbing back down again.  I remember the staff trying to shuffle me off to a room without having me see all the happy pregnant ladies in the waiting room.  I remember them trying to find my husband.  They ended up getting in touch with my mom first and she dropped everything to come be with me.  I don't remember much of anything else.  Just shock.  And tears.  Lots of tears.

We prayed and prayed for a miracle on the way to the hospital.  I made them give me one more ultrasound before they induced me.  I thought for sure there was going to be a miracle.  But, it was true.  He was dead. 

I went into labor.  It really hurts even if the baby is tiny.  He came out with one push.  I delivered a beautiful baby boy.  He weighed less than a pound and was 7.5 inches long.  He was tiny, but perfect.  He had little curlicue ears that just need the cartilage to be filled in.  He had 10 little fingers and 10 little toes.  He had perfect little bendable knees and a cute round little belly.

His funeral is a bit of a blur to me too.  I remember bits and pieces.  I remember going to the City to make arrangements for the gravesite.  I still looked pregnant and one of the secretaries asked me when my baby was due.  I remember we played Sarah McLaughlin's Arms of the Angels.  I remember D-man, wearing his little suit, trying to help carry his brother's little coffin.  I remember being surprised at some of the people that came....friends of my parents....some of my friends....nurses from the hospital.  I remember getting the autopsy results back saying that he was a seemingly healthy, baby boy with nothing wrong with him.  I remember not being able to eat.  I have always been a stress eater....but food was tasteless and made me gag. 

Like I said, many days I don't even think about him.  Other days I think about him and wonder what it would be like if he was running around with the other kids....not with sadness, but just curiosity.  I know he would be blond, but, would he look more like me or Rainman?  Would he be a good reader?  Athletic? If it came up in conversation, I could tell people about  him without crying.

But, this year, around his birthday, I was feeling melancholy and couldn't quite figure out why.  It was so apparent, that Rainman even noticed and asked me what was going on.  I didn't really know. 

Then I got the e-mail from my sister that included this picture she took on Memorial Day...

...and burst out sobbing.  My kids didn't really know what to do with me.  I didn't either.

She worried about sending it to me because she didn't want to make me cry.  But, I guess that is what I needed to do.  I am glad she took it.  I am glad she sent it.

When we lived in Minnesota, we would visit Stevie's grave a few times a year, but, always on his birthday and Memorial Day.  On Memorial Day, the little, country cemetary he is buried in, has a service where the Veteran's come and perform a little service honoring the fallen soldiers.  My sister, Kandi, posted about this year's service here.   It is a beautiful cemetary and a really beautiful service.

The kids would always bring him little gifts for his birthday and a few of them have survived the hard Minnesota winters.  The little greenish van on the left is the gift we left for him when we moved.  Remember a few years ago when Hot Wheels came out with the collector cars and had one for each state, license plate included?  It is the Georgia State car.

When we left Minnesota, I cried the hardest as we left the cemetary.  I felt like we were abandoning him....or something.

I don't know why it hit me so hard this year. 

It has been 12 years. 

I have 6 living, beautiful, healthy children.

I have had 2 miscarriages.  One we call Peanut Baby and don't know if the baby was a boy or a girl.  One we call "The Twins" (one baby died very early on, the other, a little boy, died around 12 weeks)

It has been 12 years.

I think maybe it is because the reality of living in Georgia, for the long term, is really starting to sink in.  I love Georgia. 

I guess maybe I feel like a traitor to Minnesota. 

I guess maybe I feel like a traitor to all my family who is still in Minnesota. 

I guess I am feeling like we are abandoning him all over again. 

I don't know.