Portrait of a Lost Soul

I’m a dreamer and a believer. Passionate, determined, and disciplined. I strive for more, want more and defy the idea of simple existence. I’m unwanted, a burden and broken. Tired, scared, and vulnerable. I’m technicolor in a world that wants beige, a square peg in a world of round holes. I see magic, search for fairies, and believe in miracles. I’m a thinker, a challenger and a why person. I simply don’t accept; I need to understand. I’m not a follower or a leader. I’m an anomaly.

I’m intimidating and intimidated. I dance to my music in a world that dictates the song. I’m loyal, fierce, small, and lonely. I’m a mud faced troll in a world of elves. I’m restless, lost, sad and joy filled. I’m a runner, a soul searcher, and an empath. I ache for others and feel their pain. I’m easily forgotten and hard to forget. Forged in fire and raised in ice. I live with passion and breathe life. I am a celebrator, a decorator, and a pauser. I feel sunsets and sunrises, say hello to animals and marvel at the beauty of a snowflake. I’m a painter of words, a storyteller, a writer.

I’m everybody and nobody. Visible and invisible. I’m a noticer. I forgive and forgive until I can’t. I’m grateful and thankful; a lover of animals, small moments, genuine people, simplicity, and authenticity. I’m a mom, a wife, a sister, a daughter, and a friend. I’m a believer of kind words, small gestures, and empathy. I’m hated and loved, not enough and too much. I’m too heavy, too thin, too loud, too quiet, too driven, too passionate, too disciplined. I’m too much me. I’m the flash of a shooting star across the dark sky, the disappearing image of a lightbulb when you close your eyes.

I’m too lazy, too tired, too much and never enough. I’m not what others want me to be. I don’t fit their mold. I’m chaos and a hurricane, the breeze on a summer’s day. The warmth of summer sunshine and the ice of a winter storm. I struggle, cry, search, and yearn. I crave love, acceptance and to be wanted. I’m apologetic and sorry. I’m wounded, healed, powerful and weak. I’m never enough. I’m a people pleaser, a fighter, and a protector. I’m reserved, guarded, unapproachable and cautious. I’m a free thinker, free speaker, and a challenger. I’m a hugger and love fiercely. I’m just like everyone else and unlike anybody else. I’m not status quo. I’m different, unique and a free spirit. A caterpillar waiting for metamorphosis.

 I am me. Ruthlessly and intrinsically me.

Elections

 

As we get closer to the next presidential election, I find myself spending less time on the internet and social media. I have always disliked the road leading to elections and have resigned to stay away from the three-ringed circus, smear campaigns, he said-she said, promises never kept and a very distinct division in our country. Over the past 15+ years I have watched the line that used to separate different viewpoints in our country grow into a gaping chasm of total division. I have seen truth become subjective and manipulated based on desired outcome and who is delivering the information. Facts and the pursuit of facts have become as outdated as a rotary phone while friends have suddenly severed relationships, based solely on who someone voted for, almost as if years and years spent together and memories made were eradicated simply by casting a vote. It is sad and embarrassing for our country.

 

As I mull this over, I know a divided house is easier to attack and control. A divided house will fall faster as the occupants are too busy pointing fingers and being angry at the slightest, perceived insurrection. Blanket statements are a tool for manipulators designed to evoke emotion. A continuous roller-coaster of emotional information can create a riot based, frenzied focus preventing people from critically viewing situations, looking at facts and thinking for themselves.

 

News and media have contributed to the constant upheaval. News used to be “just the facts, ma’am”, but now a station can report whatever they want without repercussions for slander, lies, misinformation or slants. Even if there is a slap on the wrist, the information is already out there. Good journalism seems as elusive as the majestic unicorn. My hope is one day opinion pieces will once again become opinion pieces and good journalists will report the facts without a slant. I hope people will again become hungry and motivated to search for facts and not pad lazy beliefs with garbage.

 

Rhetoric and propaganda have already surrounded the upcoming elections. Honestly, I don’t think it ever stopped. News stations and social media posts are already pointing fingers; all our current troubles are Trump’s fault, Biden’s fault, blah, blah, blah, blah. Those ideas are perpetuated with biased stories and stations that cherry pick what and how they report news. Have you ever checked news stations from both sides of the aisle regarding the same story? They are almost NEVER the same. The main characters may be the same, but what and how it is reported is different. Some stations choose not to report what might be considered headline news to the American people. Why? I ask that often, why? Maybe more of us need to be asking that question and looking for legitimate answers.

 

As I look at incumbents up for re-election, I think about what the constitution originally meant with, “by the people and for the people.” In my opinion our government has not been by or for the people for decades. Incumbents have been in these positions for longer than many voters have been alive. Why? How can they represent the people when they have served for decades away from the average American? These people on both sides of the aisle, who have coveted these positions for decades, care about getting re-elected, THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT US. Let me repeat that, THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT US. They don’t care if you can’t afford to buy milk unless it can be manipulated for a vote. Harsh, I know, but reality.

 

As with everything I’m sure there are legislators who have a genuine interest, but the further away from the backbone they get, the less interested they become and the less they comprehend our daily lives. How many incumbents have had to worry about the price of gas, if there is enough money to cover groceries, if they can buy new shoes for the kids or even if they will have a job tomorrow? How many currently working in D.C. have had those thoughts in the last 10, 15, 20, 30 or even 40 years? Why? Because they don’t have the same life we do. They get paid, they have a job, they are immune to the daily struggles many of us face. Over 50% of the elected officials in D.C. are millionaires. Most did not start as millionaires but have reached that pinnacle while in office. Multiple homes, better life-long health care and security. It is a comfortable lifestyle with no accountability for lying, cheating, or stealing. The goal is to be re-elected every few years, and president aside, these are the people who have been running this country for a very long time.

 

Do you realize our politicians have one of few “careers” allowed to totally screw us over with absolutely no consequences. None. How many keep campaign promises? Are there repercussions for not keeping campaign promises? How many use vague, pretty language or an “it” topic to get elected and do very little to better the country once in office?

 

When challenged with the state of our country the responses from elected officials are disheartening, simply blaming the other political party; I would, but the other party is stopping me. Excuse the phraseology, but I call bullshit. They use each other to sidestep accountability and feed the division.

 

The news, media and politicians have a penchant for keeping unrest among the people by operating in partial truths or even lies. A bill is introduced by one party for “saving all the puppies from starvation.” The title is splashed everywhere with limited information regarding the contents of the bill. When one group doesn’t vote for the bill, whether it passes or not, the other side goes on record accusing them of hating puppies. What they fail to mention and choose not to report are the “47” other pet projects tagged to the bill to benefit themselves or lobbyists. Do the American people usually hear about the other items listed in the “450” pages of that bill? No, most choose to respond to the slanted information with name calling, slurs, rudeness, and vile displays. Why isn’t our government factual about the other items padded into the bill? Why would they choose to share only the emotionally charged topic? Good questions, don’t you think? Dissension fuels re-election.

 

When I think about casting my vote, I realize we really aren’t choosing the best people to run our country. The parties decide who to put in front of us and we vote for the lesser of two evils or for many they simply vote party. The system prevents the average person from having any real chance of being elected. Why?

 

During campaigns, candidates focus on emotionally charged, divisive topics, topics that evoke visceral responses from voters, making it easy to divide Americans. When people are stirred up about passionate issues with very clear sides, other things can become secondary; inflation, jobs, cost of living, housing. All talking points are important, but as leaders of our country, our representatives should be talking just as vehemently about the livelihood of our country, the safety of our country, if new generations will have access to viable jobs and how those jobs will be sustained. They should be discussing plans for how we will cover bonds and notes to foreign countries when they become due. How we will deal with trillions of dollars of debt. It seems pretty words and inciting frenzied responses act as smoke and mirrors to keep us from asking even more difficult questions. Why? Control is a powerful thing.

 

When we are at each other’s throats we are easier to control. They want us to hate the person that owns a gun because obviously they don’t care about people getting shot. They want us to hate someone who doesn’t look, think, or act like us or someone who doesn’t agree with us 100%. They want us to have a narrow, limited view of our country. You are either with us or against us. Why??? Is it possible to own a gun, support gun rights and still be concerned about shootings? YES! Is it possible to look, think or act differently and not agree with someone completely, but still support them. YES!

 

We are not the problem, your neighbor and her partner are not the problem, the guy down the street that owns a gun is not the problem, the single mom trying to make ends meet is not the problem, people with different ideas and opinions are NOT the problem. We have been nuanced to believe they are. Why?? A frenzied, overwhelmed mind doesn’t ask questions.

 

As we head into this season, I encourage you to check the emotion at the door and look at ALL the issues and know NOTHING is free. Ask those tasked to represent us how they will help our country grow and prosper over the next 4, 10, 15 years. Research your candidates and ask the difficult questions, don’t just succumb to pretty, propaganda statements. Dig deeper into buzz words and clearly understand their view points, and the plan to reach goals. Ask them how and why often.

 

Take a deep breath and have a conversation with those you have been conditioned to dislike. Send an olive branch to those you aren’t talking to because of their view or opinion. Have a conversation. Bring your researched facts, not truths, and educate each other. Find a middle ground, share an idea, refuse to be manipulated. Be hungry for facts, hungry for shared views, hungry for a better tomorrow, and hungry for a brighter future for our country.

 

As we all hunker down to weather what the next 16 months brings, I encourage you to bypass the memes, refrain from making nasty comments about one party or the other. Choose to do your own research and not regurgitate information that has been cut and pasted. Educate yourself. Don’t make blanket statements and lump entire groups of people based on one or two characteristics. Start a conversation and be willing to hear what someone with a different opinion has to say. Become hungry for change. We can make the future better and brighter by working together.  

The Wedding

 

My heart exploded with love the moment I found out I was going to be a momma. For nine months I pondered my feelings for the tiny human kicking my ribs, how my life would change and what the future would hold. When my Sweet Tyler was born, I was awe struck with the love I had for him. My heart ached just watching him sleep. I transitioned into the role of Mom and love every single second. 

In the early days the most repeated advice I heard was to be present and enjoy each moment as it goes by in the blink of an eye. Truer words were never spoken. We lived each stage, walking, talking, birthdays, school, friends, junior high, high school, sports, all of it. We cheered, consoled, enjoyed, and worked to be present. I embraced being a mom, and picked up or dropped off, helped in the classroom, took walks and talked, cheered him on and was often a sounding board and a sympathetic ear. Each stage saw our relationship grow and change as his reliance on me gradually decreased. During college, his heart shifted further and my sweet boy, who used to order dinosaur nuggets and smiley fries, was enamored with a beautiful young woman. Ashlyn is sweet, focused, has an incredible work ethic and loves our Tyler with her whole heart. College flew by even faster with Ashlyn by his side and before we knew it our Sweet T in four years graduated with honors with his engineering degree all while competing as a D1 athlete; days are long, but years are fast.

I felt we would soon be having a conversation about marriage. We did. My heart swelled knowing he found his one. I loved her and her sweet personality and knew they would be great together. Inside I shed a couple tears knowing a stage of our lives was coming to an end, he would no longer be solely ours. He would build his own family circle and wouldn’t need his Momma as much. But I knew it was exactly as it should be.

He showed me the ring and talked through his proposal. On a cold, snowy, December day, the four of them, T, Ashlyn and their puppers, Elvis and Winston hiked mountain trails, through the snow to “take some fun pictures.” With his phone camera recording, Tyler dropped to one knee and Ashlyn said yes. We celebrated with Ashlyn’s parents, Kevin and Wynette, and talked about our babies getting married. The date was set for August, and it seemed we had plenty of time to plan, and then we didn’t.

In the blink of an eye wedding week was upon us. My heart flip flopped as my boys headed off for the bachelor party, knowing in one-week, Sweet T would marry Ashlyn and I would officially, no longer be the first woman in his life. I reflected on the changes this day would bring for all of us Their time together has been filled with wonderful moments as well as difficulties and sorrow but together they will continue to tackle the curveballs life throws. Their wedding day wasn’t going to erase hard times, but they would lean on each other more and lean less on us. They would create a stronger bond and foundation for their family.

The morning of the wedding arrived. As with all things there were minor hiccups, a forgotten shirt and tie, no table linens, but it all worked. The small things were inconsequential in the grand scheme of the day. Countless trips back and forth from the venue to the lodge, decorating, setting up, the combined effort of putting things together, and suddenly it was almost time. With the walk down the aisle minutes away, I watched cars roll in, one after another, the wonderful friends who wouldn’t have missed the day.  My heart smiled as people we love arrived after juggling long drives, flights, schedules and making arrangements to be with us to celebrate Tyler and Ashlyn. I realized as I looked around how our family included amazing people not joined to us by blood.

When the moment arrived, I walked down the aisle on Tyler’s arm. Tears of joy and change bubbled near the surface as I hugged my son and sat down. The wonderful friends who stood up for Tyler and Ashlyn, including our Austin, made their way down the aisle and then the music changed. Ashlyn walked with her dad, radiant against the lushness of the mountains. Tyler’s eyes were full of his bride as they exchanged rings and vows. With a kiss and flourish we had a new Mrs. Dahl in our family.

The celebration began with tables full of people who knew our son at different stages in his life, people who love him completely and thoroughly. People who will now love Ashlyn just as readily. I floated from table to table watching old friends meet new friends, family making connections with friends, neighbors who are more like grandparents, people from work who became life-long friends. Each connection made me realize our entire circle consisted of beautiful people with similar values, beliefs, and habits. I knew Tyler and Ashlyn could call anyone sitting there and every single one would be willing to help, lend an ear, offer advice or even just a hug.

I paused often to soak in the atmosphere. Thankful for the beautiful family that joined us, laughter, dancing, sidebar stories and conversations, and the melding of family, friends and loved ones. Thankful for sweet gestures of help, hauling cakes, making so many of the wedding implements and decorations.

Between dancing and talking I engraved snapshots in my memory for eternity.

Watching my nieces and nephews arrive,

The pictures on the Memorial table,

Tyler’s face the first time he saw his bride,

Ashlyn and her mom getting her dress on in the yert,

Walking down the aisle on my Sweet T’s arm,

Watching Tyler and Ashlyn’s first dance as husband and wife,

The mother/son dance and countless other moments.

I will remember my girlfriends old and older becoming fast friends, my nieces tearing up the dance floor, my husband, nephews, and friends huddled up to share pictures and hunting stories. I will treasure seeing Kevin sit quietly with his granddaughter, seeing Wynette rock the dance floor and getting Wes to dance with me. Each moment reminded me of the beautiful family we created and the new family we celebrated.

On a beautiful, bright day in August at 9,000 feet in the mountains Tyler and Ashlyn stood among the wildflowers, under the brilliant sky and said I do, I do to creating their own beautiful love story.

The Camper

 

22 years ago, as two young kids, we embarked on an adventure that would give us memories to last a lifetime. With our first child, only 3 years old, in tow, we wandered an asphalt parking lot, oohing and aahing over the incredible campers. We had tent camped our entire life and now with a little one, tent camping was a little more difficult. We talked about the possibilities, especially knowing we were growing our family. We loved the outdoors and loved to be in the trees camping, the camper would provide a few more conveniences that would make camping easier.   

Between quiet conversations about feasibility of owning a camper, and the fun of watching Tyler chatter about the bunks, the space to play and the fun, we made a decision. A little crazy and a little extravagant for our time in life, we buckled down and bought a travel trailer. Aside from our house, it was our first major purchase. Tyler was over the moon, and we were a little giddy. We knew nothing about towing a camper, setting one up, how to maintain it, but we were young and knew we would figure it out.

The camper glistened as James drove it home. Parked in front of the house, we marveled at the bed with bunk space above, a dinette and couch that transformed into a bed and another drop down bed above the dinette. It would be perfect. Moments of our first trip will be etched forever in our memories; Tyler snuggled into his bed at the front amid character encased pillows, his favorite Blues Clues pillow and a couple favorite stuffed animals. The bed seemed huge, and he loved it. We stocked the camper with color books, action figures, games, shovels, and camp chairs. From that moment the adventures began for our sweet family. Hot chocolate or “coffee” in our camp cups, walks in the woods, naps, hanging on camp chairs staring at the fire.

Within the year we added to our family and enjoyed the convenience of a camper with a newborn. We hiked, experienced nature, played in the dirt, roasted marshmallows, and played games. We didn’t camp in traditional campgrounds but found places in the trees where we could back in and have the run of the woods. It was our little slice of heaven.   

As our boys grew the implements inside the camper changed. Coloring books and crafts made way for different games, wiffle balls and footballs. Bb guns, bows and .22 were added. Bottles and sippy cups transitioned to water, soda, and tea. Our sweet little camper welcomed it all. The sleeping arrangements changed as the boys got older. They slept in the back the camper for a while with my oldest on the top bunk and my youngest in the space below, allowing Mom and Dad to stay up and visit or play games. The beds were filled with favorite books, toys and sweet snuggly boys.

They played outside in the dirt and when it rained, we sat inside and played games in the dim light. I remember dirty faces, covered in sticky marshmallow or hot chocolate. Hot dogs on the fire and knees and legs so covered in dirt, the sheets got filthy. I remember the rainbow sleeping bags, covering them up in the middle of the night, worried they were too cold, and I watched as each year those beds got smaller.

We celebrated countless Father’s Days in the woods along with Tyler’s birthday. Cakes I made were jostled as we rambled over rock strewn roads and up crazy hills. Each cake, a piece of a core memory; power rangers, camo, a beer cake. We laughed, we hiked, we ate, we rested and played games. We had friends join us, watched wildlife including deer and moose walk right by the camper.

When we bought the camper, we couldn’t afford a generator. The battery worked well, but James still had to get up every so often to start the vehicle and recharge the battery during the night. After a few years we borrowed a friend’s HUGE gas generator. It took up a huge part of the trailer and we had to maneuver to get it inside. Once we arrived at our site, we both had to carry it as far into the woods as the extension cord would allow because the noise was deafening. We just updated to a small quiet generator when things changed this year.

Our camper has been camping, hunting, golfing, to the grandparents’ house and parked in front of our house. During the summer, even when we weren’t camping, the boys would eat every meal possible inside. The table became the favorite spot for figure wars, army men, Batman, the Power Rangers, Transformers and Scooby and the gang. We created years of memories in that sweet little camper.

The last two years our camper sat and waited. We had every intention to get into the trees, but, well life. With life calmer I looked out the window at her and knew we needed to be back up in the trees, away from the people and chaos. I wanted the breezes in the tops of the trees, to watch the eagles above white rock, to hike and listen to the stream, to feel the heat as we sat outside and listened to nature sing around us. The problem is our sweet little trailer had gotten smaller or maybe our family had gotten bigger.

Our last camping trip the boys wedged themselves and twisted up to fit on the couch and dinette sleeper.  What used to seem huge for them, now left them with legs hanging over, shoulders slightly off the edge. The little dinette used to sit all 4 of us and now we spread out on beds and couches to eat. Our sweet boys are now men, and we add our new daughter-in-law. As I looked at our camper, I realized she was too small for us to be comfortable. The bed James and I shared included not being able to roll over, knocking the metal blinds 100s of times at night and having to crawl in awkwardly. It was time to do something different.

I spent time cleaning the dust that settled over the last couple years, moving out items that were stored and washing the bedding. Each moment cleaning reminded me of the camping eggs, the meals, the games, the puzzles, the crafts, the memories. As I cleaned and remembered each moment of the hikes, shooting the guns, practicing with bows, I remembered the love and memories we created as a family. How our trailer changed with us as our family grew. Our memories from camping are forever within her walls.

I think about the future of our sweet little camper and our ability to pass her to our oldest and our future daughter. I smiled as I remade the beds and listened to their ideas about how the camper will work for them. My heart grew knowing my granddog, who is terrified of tents, will now get to climb up and snuggle on a bed.

Our camper has some age to her, you can see it in the fade of her colors, in the little creaks and groans as she rumbles along, but she is still good.  As Tyler and Ashlyn adopt her and make her theirs, I think of the memories she will get to share with them. The dinners they will cook, the games they will play. We will continue to have family camping trips and as our family grows our campsite will grow and now our sweet little camper that was an extravagant purchase over 22 years ago will now add more memories with one of the little people that grew within her walls.

Dad

 

I have sat down thousands of times over the last year to write this. Each time, though, my heart, soul and mind weren’t able. Moments over the last few days of your life will forever be emblazoned on my memory. Moments I can’t unsee, pain I can’t let go of. Life, after you left, threw curveballs. My heart was broken, and my soul was wrecked. I existed and tried to do the best I could. Today, though, as tears well up, one year after I lost you, I can write.

You were an amazing teacher and coach. It was evident in how former students and athletes spoke about you. You were a gifted teacher, able to help anyone understand even the most complex math functions. As an administrator you had a way of making even the most lost kids feel seen and valued. I heard hundreds of stories from former students who were headed down the wrong path, pushing every button who ended up in your office. You were able to challenge them, hear them and give them value. As a coach, you were able to breathe belief into athletes that didn’t believe in themselves. They could lean on you, and they knew you had their back. Your impact in education continues to ripple far and wide. That was the public Dad. I was so proud of you. 

As your daughter I experienced the public side and saw a different side. Now, I am able to think of the many unique things that were us, so many little things I miss. I had your darker skin, your dark eyes, and your dark hair. As I have grown older, I have added a similar “highlight” streak in front of my hair.

Your sweet tooth was another thing I inherited. In a family of salt lovers, you and I craved our sweets. I remember, as a little girl, trips to the grocery store with Mom. The first time I caught you slipping a candy bar into the basket, I capitalized and snuck one in also. I wouldn’t tell if you wouldn’t tell. We giggled and always acted surprised when we got home, and Mom found them. After a while she refused to let us go along because we were “in cahoots with each other.”

I fed your sweet tooth whenever I could; at Halloween filling up a McDonalds Boo Bucket with treats, especially Reeses Peanut Butter cups. I would bake cookies and drop them by school or even send treats with balloons to the classroom. The last treats I brought were Sugar Mouse cupcakes on your birthday.

Sunday morning conversations drove Mom crazy. You would give me the side eye and then say, “Women don’t deserve the same pay because their income is secondary.” You never really believed that, but it started so good arguments. It taught me to have a strong basis for my beliefs and to be able to back them up with knowledge and facts. 

Christmas was an easy holiday for you because you had me 😊 You did shop for mom, but there were many Christmases that you sent me out with an idea and cash. For years I was sweet and shopped, showing you what I got for you and then wrapped it beautifully. As I got older, I developed a little sass and shopped and wrapped without telling you what I bought for her from you. You were as surprised as Mom on Christmas morning. We laughed and after a few years you decided to do more of your own shopping.

I was the daughter that pushed the envelope. I remember we got into pranking each other by scaring each other and cold water. I would wake up earlier than you and hide down at the bottom of the stairs, knowing you would come down to make coffee. There were countless times I growled or snorted in the dark that scared the crud out of you. We were able to laugh about it, especially when you would do the same to me. I’m not even sure how the cold-water prank started, but all I remember is for months we had to be on guard during showers or a pan of cold water would make its way over the shower curtain. You had a great, dry sense of humor.

As I grew there were different moments we shared. You taught me how to change the brakes and change the oil on my Mazda GLC. I loved the times of just you and I in the garage getting greasy and laughing. 

We were a pair at the high school. A policy was implemented that teachers couldn’t write their own kids passes for being late.  I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have had anything to do with that. Gina and I could never make it back in time after lunch to Spanish and we would miraculously have passes from Mr. Schreckengost excusing our tardiness. I loved being your TA, leaving to fill the truck up with gas and get us snacks. Helping decorate your room with new posters each year. When I graduated and was in college I would still stop in and just sit with you before and after school to talk.

I was always your bookworm, studious, nose in a book, reading almost before I could walk. When I started junior high school sports, you were so surprised. I found my niche in running. The junior high coaches would tell you how fast I and you would just smile, because I was a bookworm, not an athlete. I remember vividly my first high school track practice with you as my coach. We started sprints and you couldn’t believe it. You looked at me and said, “You’re fast.” I laughed and said “Well, I’ve been trying to tell you for years.” That started our journey as coach and an athlete. You pushed me hard, but I pushed myself harder. I loved those moments of having you there and showing you I could run. I will never forget my sophomore year at state and “initiation” I think the entire hotel heard your frustration! Nonetheless I came and placed in finals. My senior year my body was tired. I had been running 100, 200, 400, 4x100, 4x400 and doing long and triple for a few years. I had been racing hard and was running every event I could. The speed was there, but I wasn’t strong enough to do them all at the top. Just before state, you pulled me aside and told me you knew I could be a state champion in the 100 if I pulled out of the relays and other events. You gave me time to think it over, leaving the decision completely up to me. I remember telling you I couldn’t pull out of the other events. Laramie only had 7 girls at state including me. I felt I would let them down if I pulled out of the other events. I could rack up more points by placing in multiple events rather than winning one event. We ended up third in team points only seven girls, Katrina, Trishell, Kim, Stephanie, Tammy, Emily and me.

After college I loved our email strings. I would be at work early, just as you were and we would email silly sayings, jokes, good mornings. I loved that connection that was uniquely ours. As time passed and siblings moved away our connection grew.

It didn’t matter if you and mom were mad at me, you knew you could call, and I would drop everything to help out. You would call me and knew I would take care of calling everyone else and letting them know what was going on. It was one less thing for you to worry about.

We spent thousands of hours together, walking the halls of hospitals, eating hospital food with Mom’s appointments, procedures, and surgeries. It eased both of our worry to lean on each other, poke each other while we sat and waited and look for ways to make each other laugh. We put on so many miles racing back and forth to Colorado, each in our own vehicle. We spent time in the ER at IMH, sitting in waiting rooms and finding ways to smile.  You knew you could always call. The moments you confided, the fear, the worry. You knew I would be there to help, no matter what.

Taking you to appointments was a different story. We would chat and laugh as I drove you and Mom down. On the way back you would crack me up, usually under the effects of anesthesia. Everything became, “Groovy.” After one procedure in Colorado, we stopped at Little America for a break. After Mom and I directed you to the bathroom, we waited. We were a little concerned because you were still loopy, but you said you were good. After a little while you came out happy as a lark. “How you feeling, Dad?” Response was, “Groovy.”

I remember your call right after the accident in October, just before you passed. You were panicked. You hit a deer and the airbags deployed. When you stopped Shaggy took off. Mom was taken to the ER and you were torn. You called and I immediately dropped everything and headed to the hospital. I told you I would take care of Mom until you found Shaggy. We called and texted until everything was hammered out and Mom was release. We took care of the groceries you were worried about and made sure you had supper that night.   

Our last picture together, was when I drove you to Denver to get your new truck. You were so excited you found what you wanted. We chatted and laughed most of the way down. When we got there, you insisted on introducing me to everyone who came by. “This is my daughter she drove us down.” When we were getting ready to leave Stephanie wanted to take the picture and I stepped back, but you insisted she take another one with me in it. I am so glad you insisted. My last picture with you Dad.

The last time I saw you, I knew you were going to leave us that night. I didn’t want Mom there when it happened, and I don’t think you did either. I spent a few extra minutes with you after everyone else left the room. I leaned down and whispered to you exactly what you whispered to me when you gave me away at my wedding. You grabbed my hand and held so tight. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

There were thousands of little moments we shared as I grew up. Things that were just you and me. I pushed you and you pushed me. I frustrated you and Mom often, but I could always make you smile. The last year was a challenge and I hope you know how I tried. I miss you every single day. May your heart be healed, and may you be able to lift your face to the sun and experience a fullness in heaven you didn’t have here. I love you, Dad! Pooh