Goodbye Dad

December 24, 2008 Christmas Eve

Dear Family,

Do you remember how awesome Christmas Eve used to be when we were little? Dad's dad, Grandpa Russell, was born on Christmas Eve, so we always used to get together with that side of our family for a birthday dinner in the afternoon. It's so long ago I can hardly remember, now, but I can still see the angel food cake that Aunt Evangeline made, with red icing dripping over the top and down the sides, and someone lighting birthday candles for grandpa to blow out.

Then, in the evenings, we would gather at Grandma Johnson's for our annual Swedish smorgasbord. What fun we had with all the cousins and Santa coming to bring us our presents early, because he knew Grandma Johnson personally and always wanted to help her give presents to her grandchildren. How lucky we felt, having a Swedish Grandma!

I never could go to sleep on Christmas Eve. The excitement in the air was so thick it held my eyes open all night long, so even when I drifted off I woke up again within five minutes, wondering if it was time to get up.

How different this Christmas Eve has been, and yet, how the same.

We had our annual Christmas Eve Smorgasbord at mom's, but we tried to keep it kind of quiet since dad was in the back bedroom.  Last night was hard.  Dad's breathing became very labored and Uncle Alan had to start giving him morphine and some other medicine to help him breath. Today he has not woken up at all.

Mom had decided not to have Santa Clause come this year, but in the end she changed her mind and asked Phillip's son, Tyler, to dress up and give out her candy bars to everyone. We had a nice dinner, and afterwords everyone went in and said goodbye to dad and kissed him. Alan thought dad would probably pass away some time during the night, so we told Sharon to call us if his breathing changed, then we took the family home.

We always let the kids open one gift on Christmas Eve, their new pajamas, but just as we were finishing the phone rang. It was Sharon.

“Dad's gone,” she told me with a sob.

Sharon and Colton are still living at mom and dad's house while they build their new home. She and mom had gone into mom's room to finish wrapping something. Dad was just sleeping, the same as he had been all day. Sharon and mom were talking about how they would know when to call us, when Sharon looked up and realized that dad's breathing had slowed way down. She told mom, and then dad just stopped breathing altogether. Mom says that dad's Adam’s apple kept going up and down for a few seconds, and they thought he would breath again, but he didn't, and then it stopped moving. Still, they didn't think he was really gone that quickly until all the color drained from his face, and they knew.

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for letting my dad pass over so sweetly and peacefully, without struggling.

I went back over to their house, and Moe came as soon as he got the family settled.  Aunt Linda and Uncle Alan came with their kids, Uncle Phillip and Aunt Tammy came with their older children, too, and Aunt Sharon and Uncle Colton where there. We stood around dad's bed, talking and crying. I finally went and sat on the chair next to dad. Mom was on the other side of his bed. I knew he was gone, but he didn't really look any different. It struck me how simple dying is. It was a surprise to me, kind of like how you wait and wait for your birthday when you are little, but when it comes it is no different than any other day. That's kind of how I felt about dad's passing; it was just so simple and ordinary.

We took turns telling stories and reminiscing, laughing a little and crying a little, and it was very sweet. Then Alan told us to stop for a minute and just feel. He reminded us that right at that moment there were many people on the other side of the veil in the room with us, come to meet dad, and he suggested we stop and let ourselves feel the spirit. It was so sweet.

“If anyone wants to share their feelings, now would be a good time,” Uncle Alan suggested.

One by one my family bore their testimonies and shared their love for dad.

I wanted so much to see angels or have some other miraculous experience, but I didn't.

“I suppose I've become so used to feeling the spirit and being close to those on the other side of the veil that it doesn't feel any different to me now,” I tried to explain when it was my turn. “In a way, it reminds me of the stories I've heard about people who hear the gospel and experience amazing things when they first feel the spirit, but I never have those experiences because I'm so used to the spirit I hardly even notice it.”

Anyway, we spent a very tender couple of hours with dad before the mortuary came to take away his body. Then the girls and I took mom out to the family room, and the boys helped cover dad's body and place it on a gurney and wheel it out to the hearse.

After that, we kissed mom and she assured us that she would be OK, and we went home. It was about 11:30. I still had to put out our presents and fill the stockings to get ready for Christmas morning, and it felt strange to go back to that part of living. I wanted to just keep thinking about my dad, and feeling the sweet spirit that had been in his room. Most of all, I wanted to talk to him, to hug him one more time and tell him how much I loved him, how proud I was to be his daughter, and how thankful I was that he was my dad.

“Goodbye, dad,” I whispered one last time in my still, quiet house as I finished putting out my Christmas morning preparations. “Merry Christmas. And please, tell Grandpa Russell happy birthday for me, too.”