Sunday, June 21, 2015

Track 5

"Consider the Lilies" by The Mormon Tabernacle Choir

Today is Father's Day and I think it only appropriate that I write about my father today. It will be a little different, but this was tradition in my home growing up. I'm going to write a letter.

Dear Dad,

There are so many things I want to tell you right now and they're all jumbled up. Normally words just flow out of my mind, through my fingers and onto a screen or page, but for some reason, I am having a hard time formulating what I want to say. First off, how can it already be almost eight years since I've heard your voice. It was eight years ago today that I sang this song for you in sacrament meeting. Your cancer was back and you knew that you probably weren't going to go into remission again. You asked me to sing this at your funeral. I said no. I hated funerals by that point. But I said I would sing it for you on Father's Day. I remember being up on the stand. I can't even remember if I was part of the Prosser ward anymore or not, but it didn't matter...it will always be my ward. I remember exactly where you were sitting. In the back on the chairs in the overflow to the left when I looked out. Whenever I have sung in church, I always said a prayer before that my performance would not be for my praise but to be able to touch whoever needed to hear my voice and the words I was singing. I don't remember every single note that went on with the song, but I remember when I got to the part about healing, my voice was soft and I just looked out at you. I knew you weren't going to get better. But I am so glad I was able to give you that gift of my song for you on that Father's Day.

I was telling stories about you the other day. You were such a good daddy. I loved it when you would
come home from work and run around the kitchen and living room while "Chariots of Fire" was being hummed. I loved how you would kiss mom. Thank you for loving mom so completely. Yes, it was icky, but it taught me that I want that kind of long lasting love and romance. I loved how you would give us piggy back rides and "bucks". I loved how you taught us how to work. Whether it be in the home or in a profession. I love how you carried the same scripture set your entire life, well from your mission on. I use a phone now, if you can believe it. It has everything in 3x6 inch small device. I wonder if you would have changed over. You loved technology, so I bet you would have. I'm glad I'll never know.

I loved how quiet you were. I loved that your personality was almost a secret except to those who
were closest to you. You were so funny. I like to think I got my quirky sense of humor from you. And only those closest to me really get to know it. You and mom raised a really, really good family. The relationships we have now are amazing. Everyone of them are my best friends. When one is in trouble, we circle around them and make sure they know we are here, being a support and carrying them until they are able to stand on their own again. I've felt that before myself before. It is a gift beyond measure.

Thank you for never taking your responsibly as a father lightly.

That night, "Consider the Lilies" was the song you passed through the veil to. I remember holding your hand, wanting to stay connected to you for as long as I could. I had never seen anyone die before. It is not like the movies at all. It is much more sacred. When it is someone you have loved since the day you were born, it is heart wrenching. It stays with you. You were healed in that moment. You left your broken body behind and became a force for good in my life. I grieved, of course, I grieved and I know you know, but my life fell apart for awhile. But I also can't imagine there was ever a moment where you doubted I would right myself and come back stronger. And I did! With the help of so many people. You know, that whole circle around me thing.

Dad, I love you.
I cannot wait to see you again.

Love,
Stefanie





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