Pal

Pal: friend, companion, confidant, buddy. That's who Kami's Pal was, and I was thankful my brother gave him to her when she was a little girl.

Pal was a pure blood, registered, golden retriever. Kami chose him over his siblings because he chose her. She romped and played with all the new puppies, but when she sat cross-legged on the grass, Pal climbed up onto her lap and snuggled while the rest of the puppies tumbled around. Kami was seven.

Pal turned into the sweetest, gentlest, loyalest dog anyone could ask for. He loved Kami unconditionally, but he also was a sweetheart with the rest of the family. For years Pal was my running mate when I went jogging before the sun was up or late at night, and I loved him.

Whenever things went wrong, we could find Kami out in the backyard, loving her dog. He became her cushion against the world, literally and figuratively. Pal was there for Kami when she was lonely and didn't have any friends, he was a source of strength when she was scared to do new things, and he gave her stability when she had to move to a new town.

“Mom, there's something wrong with Pal,” Kami told me early in the spring of his ninth year.

“He'll be fine,” I assured her, thinking it probably had something to do with the exceptionally cold weather we had been having.

“But he has a sore on his bottom, and it's bleeding.”

“We'll keep an eye on it,” I told her. “I bet it heals up in a day or too.”

“Pal doesn't look good,” Kami told me a couple of days later, “and the sore isn't getting better.” I was in the middle of something and didn't pay much attention.

“Mother, I think Pal needs to go to the doctors,” Kami insisted the following week. “Please come and look at him. The sore is getting worse, not better. ”

I followed her out to the front porch, where Pal was waiting patiently. One look, and I realized why Kami was worried. Not only did he have a raw, sore spot on his bottom, his big, dark eyes were dull and his normally perky grin was gone. Pal didn't look good at all.

We took Pal to the Vet the following afternoon.

“I'm sorry,” he told us. “Pal has testicular cancer. That sore was probably caused by him scratching at it. I'm going to give you some antibiotics to help heal the sore, but we'll just have to see how Pal does after that.”

“Is he going to die?” Kami asked in a small voice.

“I'm sorry, but yes,” the doctor told her. “If he gets more perky and puts back on some weight, he may have a while left, but he will die.”

Poor Kami! It made me cry to hear the doctor say that, and I could only imagine how hard it was on her.

It was the middle of March, the week before Spring Break. Kami had planned on going down to the Valley to stay with her big sister the following week, but how could she leave now? She had been there the previous summer when her grandma passed away, and it had nearly broken her heart. I knew she couldn't go through that again.

Kami spent the following afternoon in the garage, holding Pal and watching a movie on a little DVD player. Pal looked a little better, maybe.

The next day was Thursday, and the girls only had a half day at school. Kami spent that afternoon in the garage with Pal, too. She snuggled him in her own favorite blanket, and laid next to him as she watched a movie.

Friday was also a half day.

“I need to go into town to get stuff for Spring Break,” I told the girls when I picked them up at school. “Why don't you come with me?”

Kami enjoyed shopping, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Pal alone. Finally, I took Krissi to town and Kami stayed with her dog. It was kind of late when we got home, so Kami put Pal out in his pen and we had a quick dinner. She went out to check on him about 8:00, and found him laying on the ground by his dog house, dead.

“Oh, Kami,” I told her as I held her close and stroked her hair, “I'm so sorry. I bet Pal had a heart attack or something, because he was fine when you put him away an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Heavenly Father,” I prayed later that evening before I went to bed. “Thank you for taking Pal home quickly and sweetly, and not letting him suffer, and thank you for giving Kami time to say goodby and spend this last week with him. He was such a good dog. I loved him, and I loved how he was such a good friend to Kami. He got her through some really rough times.”

I went to bed that night, looking forward to the day when I would see Pal again and could tell him just how much I loved him and how thankful I was for his being such a special friend.

We buried Pal the next day under a big cedar tree up at our place, not too far from where our new house was being built. Moe made him a casket from his dog house, and we bought 2 dozen roses for Kami to put on his grave, and to keep some for herself. We thought it would take about an hour to dig the grave, but instead it took over five. We dug and dug, but the ground was really hard where Kami chose to bury him.

We dug for awhile, then measured the box and the hole, then dug some more. Finally when the hole looked big enough we tried lowering the coffin into it, but it stuck on the sides, so we had to take it out and dig some more. In a way, it was good that it took so long. Kami got to dig and get out some of her emotions, and I dug and dug and got plenty tired. We were all ready to be done long before we actually were, so after we got the coffin in the ground we just quickly covered it up with dirt, Kami put her flowers on top, and Moe put a fence around it and we went home.

It wasn't a very big cemetery; just about ten feet by ten feet; enclosed with white, wrought iron fencing, but it sure was pretty. The following week I transplanted irises, strawberries, and day lilies from our yard into it. They grew bigger, greener, and more lush than anywhere else on the property. I also painted a simple white headstone for Kami to place over Pal's grave.

Pal

January 14, 2002 - March 18, 2011

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal.

Love leaves a memory no one can steal.

Our Christmas Tree Adventure

The Thanksgiving of 2010 was also tough. For years I'd been making the turkey and most of our traditional dinner, but mom had always been there to visit with while I worked. It didn't seem right to do it alone.

Most of our children came to spend the holiday with us that year. On the following Saturday, Russell and Linnea and their families decided to cut down Christmas trees, and the girls and I went along. We had a great time and finally found some wonderful trees right along the side of the road, way up in the mountains.

After parking, everyone took off looking for perfect trees. It was kind of hard to see clearly with the light shining through the trees and glaring off the new glasses I wearing, and I worried for a while that I would stumble, but I tried to be careful. I found a beautiful tree at the bottom of a little gorge, and was walking around it, looking up, when I suddenly tripped. Even as I was falling I felt like a fool, but I couldn't catch my balance and I face planted right in the snow.

Quickly, I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, remembering how I'd fallen years ago when we were playing in the snow at the gravel pits. That time I'd skinned my face and looked awful for days , and I was hoping I hadn't done it again. Then I saw blood dripping into the snow.

“Dang!” I groaned. “I hope I didn't break my new glasses.”

Pulling them off, I squinted at them through the dripping blood. Thank goodness, they seemed to be OK.

“What did I trip over?” I wondered as I slowly stood up. There, right in front of me, was a huge boulder sticking out of the snow! How I had missed it I'll never know, except that the sun was in my eyes and I was looking up at the tree and not down where I was walking.

I climbed up out of the gorge and went to find the kids, who thought I looked pretty awesome with blood dripping everywhere.

“Grandma,” Rylyn told me, “you should fall in the snow next year for Halloween. It would make a great costume!”

My oldest daughter, Linnea, dug through her purse and found a butterfly bandage and three napkins.

“You've got a pretty bad cut on your forehead, mom,” she told me as she tried to clean me up. “You'll probably need to have Uncle Alan stitch it up for you.”

Linnea had decided the previous year that she wanted to become a doctor, so I guess it was good practice for her to try to close the gash and put on the bandage. Thank goodness it didn't hurt too bad, but I sure felt silly.

After we got home that evening I went into the bathroom to look at my face. I had a great big bump on my forehead, as well as the cut there and another one under my nose. Alan, my brother-in-law doctor, looked at my face and decided I needed to go with him to his clinic so he could give me a tetanus shot and glue the cuts together. Linnea came along to watch. Alan cleaned me up and dug a couple of little rocks out of my cuts, then glued them together with super glue, but when it was time to give me the shot he said, “Linnea, why don't you do this?”

What?

I wasn't at all sure I wanted to be Linnea's first patient, but when Alan told her to give it to me in my rear end I decided I'd rather have my daughter do it than my brother-in-law, anyway. Amazingly, the shot didn't hurt a bit, which probably means Linnea will be a great doctor some day, but hopefully she won't need to practice on me any more..

Three Pieces of Chocolate

It sure took a long time, but finally at the end of August, 2010, we decided to build our house west of Snowflake. Personally, I'd known it was what we should do for years, but things kept getting in the way. First, we had to sell the house in Gilbert so we'd have some money. Then dad got sick and died, and we needed to live with mom. After she passed away I thought we'd just do it, but Moe was more cautious than me. Everyone advised us to buy, not build, since there were tons of foreclosed houses on the market and home values were still falling, but in my heart I knew we were supposed to build our dream house. Finally, after lots of study and looking at other houses, Moe came to the same conclusion.

We signed a contract with our builder on August 16^th. He said it would take three-and-a-half months to build, but that didn't take into account how long it took to get financing. We didn't actually break ground until the end of January, 2011. In the meantime, Moe built himself a large metal shop to keep all his tools and equipment in, I kept digging my pond, and we dreamed.

That was an interesting fall. For the first time in my life I had no parents to talk to, and I missed them, especially mom. One Sunday, Kami decided to wear mother's Swedish sweater to church. It was one of a few or her clothes that I couldn't part with, and Kami found it hanging in my closet while looking for something warm to wear.

“Mom,” she whispered as we sat in the chapel, waiting for church to start. “Look what I found.” She held out her hand to me, and showed me a crumpled Kleenex and three pieces of chocolate.

The Kleenex was typical mom, she always had a fresh one waiting in her pocket; but I also remembered her putting the pieces of chocolate there, months earlier. One day when she first started getting sick to her stomach we'd been in the kitchen. Mom had half of a Hershey's Chocolate Bar in her hand. She looked at it for awhile, then said, “Maybe it's the chocolate that's making me sick.”

I remembered her putting the uneaten pieces in her pocket, and I don't think she ever wore that sweater again.

“I bet the candy is still good,” I whispered in Kami's ear, knowing grandma would be happy to know she'd given Kami a little treat that Sunday.

“I'm going to keep the Kleenex,” Kami whispered back, and I nodded. I knew wearing mom's sweater brought her comfort, and putting her hand in the pocket and holding onto the Kleenex would, for just a second, be like getting to hold her grandma's hand one more time.

I hugged Kami, and smiled, but there were tears behind my eyes that Sunday.

How to Have a Long, Happy Marriage

Getting to know so many wonderful people was one of the things I enjoyed most about moving to Snowflake. Being called to be the Relief Society President in our ward gave me a reason to meet them.

One of my favorite couples was George and Linda. (I've changed their names, since they might not appreciate me telling stories about them.)

George and Linda were an elderly couple that I began visiting the summer of 2008. They lived in a small manufactured home a few blocks west of Main Street, and they knew everything there was to know about Snowflake in it's younger days.

“We used to buy fabric at Ed's (the local grocery store) when I was a girl,” Linda told me one day. My mother sewed all of my clothes, and when she first met George she worried that none of his shirts were long enough, he was so tall, so she decided to make him new ones. She sewed him so many shirts he had a shirt for every day, and I got jealous because she made him so many clothes.” Linda laughed, then said with a smile, “From the first time she met George, my mother took him in and loved him like a son.”

I smiled, too. George was a big, tall, rough tough cowboy, but he was the sweetest man I knew. Linda had suffered from ill-health for many years, and George waited on her like a baby. The previous year she had suffered a stroke early one morning. George called 911, helped the paramedics get her in the ambulance, then followed them to the nearest hospital, 25 miles away in Show Low. He stayed with Linda all day as the doctors did tests and admitted her. Finally, late that night when she was sleeping comfortably, George drove home to Snowflake.

“But I couldn't sleep,” he told me later as he recounted the ordeal. “I tried, but at 2:00 in the morning I finally gave up and got in my truck and drove back to the hospital. I thought I'd do better sleeping in the chair in Linda's room than at home in our quiet house. But all the doors to the hospital were locked and I couldn't get in, so I slept in my pick-up until the hospital opened.”

This particular cowboy's rough, tough edges had been smoothed down by years of caring for Linda until he was as gentle as a kitten. But don't ever tell him that!

“We got married on the front porch of our ranch house,” Linda told me, with a far-away look in her eye. “My aunt moved her piano all the way out to the ranch so we could have music at our wedding.”

“I bet it was a wonderful day,” I said, caught in the spell of imagining a simpler, quieter time.

“It was,” Linda agreed, then she grinned. “But we weren't the happiest couple you ever knew.”

“George didn't get a lot of love when he was a kid, growing up. His mom married a really cruel man when he was a few years old. They moved to Nevada, but his step-dad was so mean she finally sent George back to Snowflake to be raised by his grandma. He didn't know how to be kind, or loving, and after a few years I got fed up with him and decided I wanted a divorce.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes, I did.” Linda told me. “I went to a lawyer and had him draw up some divorce papers, then I took them to the local police chief. Of course, everyone knew everyone in Snowflake back in those days, so I told the police chief I wanted him to serve the divorce papers to George, and then I went home. Well, a week went by and George didn't say anything, then two weeks, and finally I got mad and marched down to the police station and demanded to see the police chief.

“Why hasn't George been served with the divorce papers?” I asked him.

“Because you shouldn't get a divorce,” the police chief told me. “I'm not going to serve him.”

“Well, what was I suppose to do about that? I guessed there wasn't much I could do, so I went home, and we stayed married. It'll be fifty-nine years next month.”

I grinned again. They had been married fifty-nine years, all thanks to a police chief who wouldn't give George his divorce papers. Maybe we needed more policemen like that!

Our Vacation in Greer

I think digging my pond that summer was my therapy for missing mom. I loved the physical labor and mindless work, and it wore me out, which made it easier to sleep at night. Still, it was lonely at our house, and the girls missed grandma and I missed my mother.

To help give us something to look forward to we began exploring the mountains around us. Our goal was to take the girls fishing in a new spot every week, which didn't exactly happen, but we had a couple of fun day trips, and Kami, especially, took a liking to fishing.

One Friday Moe decided we should drive over to Big Lake and see what it was like. He downloaded directions from the computer, we loaded the car with snacks and our fishing poles, and off we went.

The route Moe chose took us past Sunrise Ski Resort, on the White Mountain Apache Indian Reservation. He had heard this was the shortest way to Big Lake, although it meant driving on dirt roads the last hour of the trip. We got to that part of the road just about the same time as a large rain storm rolled in. Soon the roads were muddy and rutted.

“Does something sound funny to you?” I asked as we trundled through the deep goo on the road.

“No,” Moe answered, but a few seconds later he turned off the air-conditioner and said, “Hush. What was that sound?”

I couldn't tell, but something sure didn't sound right with the car.

I was reading a book out loud to the girls, but I put it down so we could listen to car.

“I think it's the transmission,” Moe finally decided. “Maybe we shouldn't try to make it all the way to Big Lake.”

“There's a sign up ahead that points to Greer,” I told him, looking out the front window. “I wonder how far that is.”

“Only about half an hour, I think, Moe told me, his brow furrowed with worry. “Maybe we'd better go there. If there is something wrong with the car we won't be able to get any help at the lake.”

So we turned left on the side road and slowly made our way down a hill and through the dense forest, listening all the while to see what the car was going to do. Half an hour later we turned off of that dirt road onto the main road of Greer, and the car died!

“What happened?” I asked.

“I think the transmission went out,” Moe answered. We were almost to the top of a hill on a narrow, two lane road with no shoulders to pull off on.

“I'm going to have to coast back down,” Moe said after trying to restart the car a couple of times with no luck. “Watch behind me.” Carefully he put the car in neutral and we began sliding back down the hill.

What a nerve wracking experience! Thank goodness there were no cars coming, but still I was scared to death. The road was very narrow, there were bushes and trees on either side, and at the bottom of the hill a tiny bridge crossed a rushing river. I was sure relieved when Moe finally got us to the bottom and backed into a wide spot on the opposite side of the road at the bottom of the hill.

“Well, I guess we're going to stay here,” he said. “This car isn't going anywhere by itself. I'll have to get a ride back to Snowflake so I can get the truck and come tow the car back into Show Low.”

“That will take hours,” I worried, “and how will you get a ride?”

“Maybe Stephen can come pick me up,” he suggested.

Stephen was my twenty-five year old son who was staying with us for the summer between college semesters. The only problem was, he had a job working for a well drilling company, and I didn't know if I could even get hold of him.

I tried my cell phone, but had no service, so we all got out of the car, locked it, and walked up to the top of the hill. There was still no cell service, but there was the first of the many summer cabins and lodges that made Greer such a sought after resort destination.

“Maybe we should just get a room and spend the night,” I suggested, half joking.

“Good idea,” Moe surprised me by saying. The only problem was, this lodge was totally booked up. They did tell us that the only place we could get cell phone reception was about half a mile farther down the road, at the Molly Butler Lodge, so Moe and I and the girls walked on there. Sure enough, on the porch of the lodge I was able to use my phone, but when I finally got Stephen, he said he was out on a job and wouldn't be able to come until later that afternoon.

“Well, just come when you can,” I told him. “I don't know where we'll be, but I'll call you later and let you know.”

We went into the lodge to see if they had rooms, but of course they were booked solid, too. It was a summer weekend in Greer, and every hotel and motel had sold out months in advance.

“You might try renting a cabin,” the desk clerk suggested, so we followed her directions around the building to a small office in back where we found a cabin rental service.

Thankfully, there was one cabin available, which turned out to be right in town on the main road so we could walk to it, and it was actually cheaper than a hotel room. Not only that, when we finally got there, after going back to the car to retrieve the few snacks we'd brought and then walked another mile further down Main Street in the rain, we discovered it was an actual house, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a loft, a family room and a kitchen. It was amazing!

After exploring the cabin we walked back down to where we could call Stephen, gave him directions to the cabin, then walked back again, this time looking for a store where we could buy food, but to our dismay the only shop in town was closed.

“I guess we'll have to eat at a restaurant,” I told the girls, but they weren't excited. Greer didn't have any McDonalds or Arbie's or even Pizza Huts. In the end, I walked to the closest restaurant and discovered they did make pizza: fancy, expensive pizza, but pizza: so I ordered one to go.

“It will take an hour and a half,” the waitress told me. “This is our busy time, so the chef won't get to it for awhile.”

“OK, I'll come back,” I said, then walked back to our cabin.

We'd used up the entire afternoon walking back and forth, and Stephen got there not much later.

“I'm not going to try to bring the truck back tonight,” Moe decided as he climbed in with Stephen. “It will take two hours to get home, another hour to rent a trailer, and then two hours to get back. I'll just wait and come get you in the morning.” So Kami and Krissi and I were left alone in that huge, three bedroom cabin, to enjoy the evening by ourselves.

Krissi walked back to the restaurant with me to get our pizza while Kami tried to get TV reception at the cabin, but it wasn't ready. We walked back to the cabin, waited another half hour, then walked back to the restaurant, twice. It was 9:00 before we finally got our dinner, which wasn't very good, but it was still an adventure!

After all that walking and getting cold and wet, I was standing in the living room of the cabin eating pizza later that night when I heard my cell phone ring. I picked it up in amazement and found out the only other place in the whole valley, besides the lodge, that got cell phone reception was inside our cabin! Brother!

Anyway, Kami and I enjoyed watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, one of the videos the owners of the cabin had left for guests to enjoy since there wasn't any TV reception, then she and Krissi and I curled up on the king sized bed in the master bedroom while I read to them from our book. In the end, all three of us slept there on that one bed, never even using the other two rooms, but it was sure cozy.

In the morning we walked across the street and got smoothies from a little outside snack bar for breakfast, then we walked back through town to the creek. Kami tried fishing while Krissi sat on the bridge. Just as we were ready to give up (there didn't seem to be any fish in the river) Kami felt a tug on her line, and she caught a great big rainbow trout! She was so happy! She was just getting ready to clean it when Moe drove up with the truck, so he got to help her with the fish.

We drove (it was so nice not to have to walk anymore) back to the cabin and packed up, then drove home to Snowflake. All in all, it was a delightful little unexpected summer vacation, and I determined that some day we would have to come back to stay in Greer again, this time on purpose.

The Pile of Dirt

“Can you come out to the place with me when I go feed the horses?” Moe asked one summer afternoon, a few weeks after mom passed away. “There's something I want to show you.”

“I guess,” I answered absentmindedly. The girls were watching TV, it wasn't yet time for dinner, and I really didn't have anything pressing to do right then. We were slowly getting back to normal , now that mom's funeral was over and all the family had gone home. I'd cleaned the house good the day before, my welfare visits were done for the week, and I didn't have to prepare my next Relief Society lesson for a couple of months. “Just let me tell the girls where we're going, and I'll meet you in the car.”

“Did the septic people do the perk test today?” I asked as we drove out of town and up the hill towards our five acres. Now that we didn't need to take care of mom, it was time to get ready to build our house.

“Yes, they dug a huge hole right in front of where the house will be,” Moe told me, “and they said it looked real good. They didn't run into any clay, just straight sand as far as they could tell. If we pass, they'll be able to put in the septic tank in a couple of weeks.”

That was exciting! It looked like we might actually get our house built this time.

“I took the men back to show them your pond,” Moe continued. “They were really impressed!”

I looked at my husband in surprise. “Really?” I'd thought Moe was just kind-of humoring me as I dug my pond. I, myself, was having a ball, and the pond was really taking shape. It was much bigger than I'd imagined when I started, it kind of seemed to have a life of it's own and was evolving as it grew. So far I'd dug down over six feet in the center, and extended the edges thirty feet on both sides, curving the middle and turning the pond into a sort of boomerang shape.

“They couldn't believe you dug that whole thing by yourself, with just a shovel and a wheelbarrow,” Moe laughed. “They said you must be some sort of wonder woman.”

“Well, you know better,” I grinned. “But I am getting in better shape, at least.”

We drove up to the gate and Moe stopped the car so I could get out and unlock it.. “Just leave it open, he told me as he drove in. “The horses will be too busy eating to care about getting out, and we can close it when we leave.”

While Moe fed the horses I wandered over to the east part of our property, where a big pile of dirt marked the perk test. There was an impressive trench, at least ten or fifteen feet deep and probably just as long, dug into the dirt.

“Pretty cool,” Moe said as he walked up beside me. “But there's something back here that I want you to see, too.”

Moe grabbed my hand and started walking toward my pond in the far back corner.

At first I couldn't see anything different because of all the cedar trees blocking our view. There was my growing pile of dirt mounded up behind the pond in what I hoped would one day become a sort of bluff, but then, as we walked around some trees, I saw something new. A hug mountain of dirt on this side of the pond!

“The back-hoe driver did it,” Moe explained happily, pulling me over to the edge of the pond so I could see down into the hole. “He took out another five feet for you in the middle!”

Wow! My hole in the ground really was deep now, and looked amazing, but now there was a huge mountain of dirt, right in the middle of another part of my pond! Darn it! Now I was going to have to dig it out all over again!

Of course, I didn't tell Moe that. It had been sweet of him to show off my pond in the first place, and nice of the back-hoe driver to help me out, and I certainly didn't want to make either one of them feel bad, but, darn, after all the work I'd done, it sure was daunting to think about having to move that mountain out of my pond!

She Was Good

There was a peaceful feeling in the Relief Society room as I sat and watched my family say goodbye one last time to their mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. We had purposely scheduled a time for our immediate family to be alone with mother before the actual viewing started, and all of my family was there.

I sat on the front row by my husband, Moe, watching for a few moments, then I looked up at the picture of the Savior hanging in the front of the room. Suddenly it hit me. Mom had probably already had a chance to talk with Christ and be welcomed home! Wow!

I turned and whispered to Moe what I was thinking, and he whispered back, “Yes. And your dad probably escorted mom in to meet the Savior.” Double Wow!

My parents had been amazing. I don't believe I ever met two more wonderful, dedicated disciples of Christ in my life They wanted to be good, they wanted to be like Him, and over a lifetime they had achieved their desires. What a legacy they had left for me.

“Everyone in our family wants to be good,” Dad told me once, and he was right. We might be human, and a little selfish, a little oblivious to the pains and suffering of the people around us, a little stubborn and set in our ways, but underneath it all, we wanted to be good.

The night before mom's funeral we had dinner in my sister Linda's backyard. It was the first time we'd all been together since dad passed away a year and a half earlier. After eating, my brothers and sisters and I walked across the street to mom's house, leaving the children to play and visit at Linda's. I had been dreading this moment ever since mother passed, afraid that hard feelings might arise when it came time to divide her possessions. I shouldn't have worried.

Room by room, we walked through mom's house, letting everyone claim items that were special to them. I was surprised by some of the things that were important to my brothers and sisters, but it was a sweet way to reminisce and recall fond memories and happier days. It seemed to me that everyone was bending over backwards to make sure no one felt left out or unhappy, and I think everyone was satisfied when we finished. I hope they were.

Later, after the funeral, we let the grandchildren and great grandchildren go through the rest of mom's stuff and choose tokens of remembrance for themselves. Again, it was sweet.

My youngest sister, Sharon, had taken a special family under her wings a few months earlier, and was including them in everything we did. At first, it was a little awkward, since the rest of us didn't know these people, but the whole family tried to be polite to them.

Sharon's friend, Tanya, made beautiful necklaces out of crystal and glass beads. She had given one to mother on Mother's Day a few weeks earlier, and wanted us to bury mom in it.

“That's too much,” my other sisters whispered when they heard about that, but I knew mom would have said yes if we'd asked her, she was always trying to make other people feel good. And it really did look pretty against mom's beautiful white Temple dress.

Tanya also made matching necklaces for each of us sisters, as well. They were a little too “blingy” for my taste, at least to begin with, but I wore mine that day anyway, and you know what? It was lovely. Now it is my favorite necklace, and I wear it often. Most of all, it gave me a chance to try to be like my mother, and I appreciated that. My goal in life is to be good, like her, and I'll be working on it the rest of my life. When I die I want my mom to be able to come up to me, give me a big hug, and whisper in my ear, “I'm proud of you, Gale. You were good.”

Mother's Graduation Day

 

“How much longer will mom will have to go on?” I wondered as I dug out in my pond on Thursday morning, June 3^rd, 2010. “She's so tired. I wish she could just move on.” Then I felt guilty for wishing my mother could die.

“But I don't want her to die,” I told myself sternly. “I just don't want her to keep on hurting.”

I couldn't help remembering the scene in the movie, “Shadow Lands,” were C. S. Elliott's wife told him she was in too much pain and he had to let her go, and he told her he didn't know how. Did I know how to let mom go? Did she know how to die?

When I was a little girl mother had told me how my great-grandmother, her Mormor, passed away.

“I remember every night Mormor praying that she would be able to die peacefully,” mother had told me. “After Morfar, my grandfather, died, my sisters and I took turns sleeping at Mormor's house so she wouldn't have to be alone at night. One night Aunt Ejvor stayed with her, but in the morning Mormor asked her to go home and get mom, because she wasn't feeling good. I went with mom to see how Mormor was doing. She was still in bed, so we sat next to her to visit.

“We talked for a little while, then somebody said something funny, and Mormor laughed, then she just died. Just like she had prayed for.”

I wished mom could go like that, or like her own mother. My Grandma Johnson had turned one hundred years old two months before she passed away. She lived by herself in her own house until the last few months when her health gave way and she moved in with my cousin's family. The morning she died, a hospice nurse had been over to check on her. “This is the end,” she told my mom and her two sisters. Grandma seemed to be in a sort of coma, but they sat with her all morning until finally mom sent Aunt Amy and Aunt Ejvor home to take care of things they needed to do with their families.

“The hospice nurse is coming back this evening to give mom a bath,” mother reminded her sisters. “I just bet mom won't go until after that. You know how she's never gone anywhere without first fixing her hair and getting dressed up.”

The hospice nurse came half an hour early that afternoon. She bathed grandma and dressed her in a clean, blue nightgown. After she left mother remembered how much grandma enjoyed having her daughters brush her hair when she was sick, so mom picked up the brush and began to softly stroke grandma's hair. Grandma seemed to relax, she took a breath, and then she was gone. Just like that. Certainly mom deserved to die as sweetly.

I got home from digging in my pond about 10:00. Mom told me she was feeling kind of dizzy, and didn't think she would get up yet, so I worked around the yard, mowing the lawns and watering plants. At 12:30 I got her some lunch and took it in to her bedroom.

“I think I'll just go back to bed instead of sitting in my chair,” mom decided after I'd helped her into the bathroom.

Moe left about that same time to drive down to the Valley. He wanted to check on his sister, LaKay. It had been two weeks since their father died, and it was hard on her being all alone, and he needed to bring Kami, our fifteen year-old-daughter, home.

I went in to see how mom was doing about 12:45. Our Visiting Teachers were coming at 1:00, but I told her not to worry about getting up. Each woman in our church is assigned two women to watch over them, and they normally visit once a month. My sister, Linda, who lived across the street from us, and mom and I had the same visiting teachers, and they often visited all of us at the same time.

“Maybe I won't come out to visit them this time,” mom agreed tiredly. “But get the air freshener from my bathroom and spray it around in here, please, just in case they decide to peek in on me and say say hi. I'm afraid my bedroom doesn't smell very good.” That was just like mom. Even when she was deathly ill she was worrying about making things nice and comfortable for other people.

Sister Weir and Sister Breedlove came right at 1:00, and they did go back to mom's room for a second to see her. Then Linda and I visited with them in the front room for half an hour or so.

“I think I heard your mom calling,” Sister Breedlove interrupted our visit, so I went back to check on mom while Linda said our goodbyes and they left.

“How are you doing mom?” I asked when I walked into her bedroom.

“I'm starting to hurt again,” she moaned softly. “Would you please get me some pain medicine?”

I got one of the pills from mom's bedside table, and putting my hand behind her head I lifted it up a so she could swallow some water with the pill. Almost immediately, though, the exertion and medicine made her stomach upset, and she began to throw up. Holding mom's head with one hand and the garbage can with the other, I helped mom lean over the side of the bed while she was sick, but then she passed out. That happened every time mom overexerted herself, so I didn't really worry. I just gently laid mom's head back on the pillow and wiped her mouth and chin with a Kleenex, waiting for her to come to.

Linda came in a couple of minutes later, and we sat by mom, but this time the minutes ticked by without her regaining consciousness.

“I wonder if she is going to come out of it this time?” I finally began to wonder after five minutes or so.

“I'm going to call Sharon,” Linda decided. Sharon was our youngest sister, and she also lived in Snowflake.

“She's not here,” Linda told me after talking to Sharon on her cell phone. “She's down in the Valley.”

“Oh no,” I worried. “She's going to feel awful if mom passes away now!”

Soon after that we heard the front door open, and footsteps coming down the hall. It was Sharon's husband, Colton.

“Sharon called me,” he explained as he hurried over to mom's bed.

“I'm so glad she did,” I told him. “Moe's on his way down to Valley.”

“And Alan's at work,” Linda added, “and mom needs a blessing. Would you give her one, please?”

Colton placed his hands on mother's head, and through the power of the Priesthood which he held, gave her the sweetest blessing.

After that, Linda sat back down on one side of the bed and I sat on the other, holding mom's hand. She was so peaceful, no struggling or harsh breathing, like the other times she had passed out. She just lay there peacefully on her bed, and silently slipped away.

I'm not a very good nurse, but when it seemed like she wasn't breathing anymore, I felt for her pulse on her wrist. I sure thought I could still feel a faint pulse, but Linda called Alan and when he got there he told us that mom was gone. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.

Afterward, I felt kind of bad. I didn't have time to cry or grieve or anything, it was just so sweet and simple. I wanted to listen and feel dad and grandma and grandpa Johnson, but Linda and Colton and I were all trying to figure out what we should do, and then Alan came and it was just OK.

We needed to call my brothers and sisters right away, so there really wasn't time to sit and reflect and feel the spirit or anything. We made the calls, then I called the kids. The hardest one was calling Kami. I knew she was going to be so sad, she and grandma had a very special relationship, and I was worried about her not being there to say goodby.

I also felt bad that Moe wasn't there to say goodby, or to just give me support. Actually, I felt pretty alone when I came to think about it, but there was a special peace which can only come from God, and I was OK. Krissi, my thirteen-year-old, was upstairs through the whole thing, and I was glad at least one of my children was there with me.

A funny thing happened after we'd made all the phone calls and arrangements and were waiting in mom's room for the people from the mortuary to come. The phone rang, and it was Brother Christensen, our Home Teacher. Just like the women in our church have sisters assigned to watch out for them, every family is also assigned two men to be their Home Teachers. They also visit monthly and keep an eye on us. Our home teacher was also our town's postmaster.

“Gale, did you put some letters in the mail today?” he asked when I answered the phone.

“Yes, I guess I did,” I told him, a little taken back. I'd put some birthday cards for my daughter and granddaughter on the table that morning and asked Krissi to get some stamps from upstairs and put them in the mail box for me, but so much had happened in the meantime I could hardly remember doing that.

“I thought they must be from you,” he continued. “They had your return address on them, but you only put on one cent stamps. I added some more and mailed them for you.”

I had to laugh. I guess Krissi must have picked up the one cent stamps instead of the first class ones. Only in Snowflake would the postmaster call you personally to see if you made a mistake, and only in Snowflake would he put the extra stamps on for you and sent the mail on anyway. At any rate, it gave me a chance to tell Brother Christensen about mother, and it was good to have his support and love.

After they took away mom's body and we finished making our phone calls it was awfully quiet at our house. When Linda went home and just Krissi and I were left we didn't quite know what to do with ourselves. I knew that soon life would catch up with us, but that night the house was too quiet. It took me awhile, but I finally realized that one reason it felt so wrong was because mom's oxygen machine was shut off, for the first time in a year and a half. Silence may be golden, but I missed the noise that night. Krissi and I finally settled down in mom's room and watched one of the Harry Potter movies together until it was time to go to bed, I guess in honor of mother. She had loved those books, and we had enjoyed discussing them and watching the movies together for years. In a way, it seemed like an appropriate way to celebrate mother's graduation day, and it helped to comfort both of us.

One last thing I did before going to bed that night. I knelt down and thanked the Lord for my mother, and for taking her home so easily. I missed mom, but I was glad she didn't have to suffer anymore. Heavenly Father had so kind, to all of us, and I couldn't help smile at the reunion she and dad and all of her family must have been having on the other side of the veil that night.

Mom's Legacy

“How ya doing, mom?” I asked when I peeked in to check on mom on the morning of June 2^nd, 2010.

She smiled feebly, but she didn't look very good.

“Oh, I'm OK,” she told me.

“Are you in pain?” I asked.

“Not too much,” she said.

“Do you feel like getting up yet?”

“No, I think I'll stay in bed for a little while longer,” she told me.

I sat down in the chair next to mom's bed and picked up her hand. “Would you like me to do anything for you?” I asked.

“No, you go do your errands or whatever you need to do this morning. I'll be fine. I'll wait until you get home before I get up.”

“Are you sure, mom?” I asked, worried about leaving her.

“Yes. Run on and do whatever you need to do.”

“Krissi will be here,” I told her, glad that school was over for the summer. “If you need anything, just call her, OK. She can call me on the cell phone if I need to come back sooner.”

“That's fine,” mother assured me again.

“How's Krissi doing, being here all alone?” she asked. “Is she missing Kami?”

I laughed, then said, “Actually, I think she's having fun being an only child right now. I talked to Kami this morning, too. She's having a blast down in the Valley with Alyssa and the kids, but she told me to tell you she misses you.”

Kami, my fifteen year old daughter, had been mom's special companion for the past year, watching old movies and TV shows with her every evening until it was time to go to bed. Krissi and I had tried to keep mom company while Kami spent the first week of summer at her big sister's house, but I knew mom missed her, and Kami missed grandma.

“I'm glad she's having fun,” mom smiled. “Sisters are the best. I used to love going to visit Aunt Eloise, my oldest sister, after she got married and moved to California. It was always so much fun.”

Mom was silent for awhile, and I wondered if she was thinking about Aunt Eloise, who had passed away the previous summer, and Grandma Johnson, and Grandpa, and the rest of her family.

“It will be cool when you get to see all your family again, won't it?” I ventured, not quite knowing how to put in words what I was thinking. I didn't want mom to think I was anticipating her dying, yet at the same time, we all were.

“I bet you can't wait to see dad, either,” I finally said, knowing that was probably foremost on mom's mind.

“I can't,” she admitted, then her face fell a little and she said, “but I'm almost ashamed to see Grandma Johnson and Mormor again. I haven't lived up to their legacy very well, have I?”

“What?' I exclaimed. “How can you say that? They must be so proud of you!”

“No,” mom sighed. “They were such amazing women, and I haven't done anything like them. I keep thinking if I was at least in my 80's it wouldn't be so bad to be old and sick, but I'm only 79!”

I did understood what mom was talking about. Both her mother, my Grandma Johnson, and her grandmother (Mormor means grandmother in Swedish) my great-grandma Johnson, had been incredible women, but it made me sad that mom felt she wasn't as good as them.

I thought about this all morning as I dug out at my pond, and later when I came home and took a shower. My sister, Linda, came over to visit mom while I was cleaning up. She was with mom when she had another attack.

“Gale,” Linda gasped over the phone when I answered her call as I was blow drying my hair. “Mom has passed out again, and I can't get her up off the floor!” (Aren't cell phones amazing? Linda was able to call me on her cell phone rather than leaving mom and running through the house to find me in the back bedroom.)

I ran to mom's room, and together we got her back up and into bed, then Linda called Alan, her husband, the doctor, to come help. It took a long time for mom to come out of it this time.

“You came as close to dying as you can get,” Alan told mom when she was finally cognizant and resting in her bed.

By afternoon, mom was feeling better, but Linda and I stayed with her, sitting on either side of the bed while we visited, talking pretty frankly about her passing on.

“I want you girls to divide up my jewelry among yourselves,” mother told us. “I know there's not much there of value, but make sure you all get something you want, and let the granddaughters each choose a piece, too.”

“Then there is a coin jar in my bathroom where I have been saving quarters. I want you to divide those up among the great grandchildren.”

“OK, mom,” Linda said, smiling at me.

“And also divide the Kinder-egg toys I have been saving with each of the grandchildren,” mom went on. “They are in a bag in my closet.” Mom had discovered Kinder-eggs in Germany when she and dad were there serving a mission for our church. They delighted her, and the grandchildren, when she sent them home for Christmas. Ever since, mom had collected the little toys that came inside the chocolate covered eggs.

“You know, mom,” I decided to change the subject after a few minutes. “I've been thinking about what you said this morning. We have always known what a courageous woman Mormor was, joining the church in Sweden all by herself, loosing the respect and friendship of her neighbors and friends, and even of Grandpa for so many years before they realized she was still the same wonderful person as before, and then having her little foster daughters taken from her because she wouldn't deny the Gospel. It also must have been really hard for her to leave Sweden and move to America when she was an old woman, but she did it anyway, so she could be sealed in the Temple to grandpa and her family for eternity. We have also always talked about how brave Grandma Johnson was, being a widow for 39 years, taking care of Grandpa when he went blind, working and providing for herself, and everything she did throughout her life, even living to be a hundred. They left a very tough legacy for the rest of us to follow. But mom, this last year-and-a-half, while you have been without dad and so terribly sick, you have been proving, mostly to yourself because the rest of us already know it, that you are also brave and strong and a true Johnson. When you get to the other side of the veil, I just know that Grandma Johnson and Mormor are both going to tell you how proud they are of you! You can hold your head up high in their presence, mom. You have earned your place by their side.”

I don't know if what I said helped mom or not, but it sure made me realize how proud I was of her, and what an amazing heritage I possessed.

That night, Krissi and I finished watching the end of “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,” which we'd begun watching the night before with mom. She's the one who got us started reading the Harry Potter books way back when they first came out, and they had remained our favorites over the years.

When the movie ended I helped mom get ready for bed, then tucked her in. I felt kind of silly, to tell you the truth, like I was trying to be the mother and she was my little girl, but I couldn't help myself leaning over and kissing her frail old cheek after I pulled the covers up around her chin.

“I love you, mother,” I whispered, and she smiled tiredly, but didn't open her eyes.

Oh, how proud I was to be the daughter of Eleanor Russell! And, oh! How much I loved my mother!

What Next?

The phone rang about 5:30 on Sunday morning, May 16^th. As soon as I answered it my sister-in-law, LaKay, sobbed, “Can I talk to Moe? I can't wake dad up!”

Ever since Grandma Ashcroft had passed away, LaKay had lived with Grandpa, taking care of him. He'd done really well, but he was in his nineties, and tired and ready to go home.

“Call 911 and have them take dad to the hospital,” Moe told her when he got to the phone. “It sounds like he's had an aneurism, or maybe a stroke. I'll be down there as soon as I can.”

Moe left immediately to go to the Valley, and I stayed to take care of mom and the girls, and of course the horses up at our place. Mom was actually feeling well enough to go to church that day, but as soon as she got home she got sick again. She was very bad for awhile, but eventually the medicine took away the terrible pain and she able to sleep all afternoon. I made lunch, went up to our five acres to feed the horses in the afternoon, then watched church movies with the girls and mom in the evening, all the while wondering how long Grandpa Ashcroft would hold on.

Strange; it was mother whose health was so bad that we thought she would go at any time. I'd never imagined that Moe's mom, my dad, and even his dad might pass away before she did.

“Dad just died,” Moe told me on the phone the following evening, about 6:30. “LaKay and I decided he passed just in time for him to have family night with Grandma.”

“How are you doing?” I asked. “And LaKay?”

“We're fine,” Moe said. “Dad never regained consciousness, but he was peaceful all day, and there was a sweet spirit in the room. Everything is OK here.”

I was glad, but a cranky little voice in the back of my head whispered, “Yeah, everything is OK there, but what about here? Don't you even care about how I'm doing, or mother or the girls?” I didn't voice my thoughts, though. I knew Moe was focused on taking care of his dad and LaKay, which was as it should be. Some day I needed to learn to stop being so selfish.

Moe stayed down in the Valley to help LaKay get ready for Grandpa's funeral, so I continued feeding the horses twice a day, getting the girls through their last week of school, and taking care of mother. Krissi graduated from 8^th grade that year. Graduation was scheduled for Friday afternoon, May 21^st, but it was also the day Moe's family wanted to have Grandpa's funeral.

“I don't care about going to my graduation,” Krissi assured me when I talked to her Tuesday after school. I looked at her hard, but it really didn't seem to matter to her, so I didn't insist that the funeral be changed.

The girls last day of school was Thursday. Friday morning we left about 8:30 to drive down to the Valley, leaving mom in the care of my sisters. We got there at 11:00, just in time for the viewing, then grandpa's funeral at 12:00. Moe did a good job talking, and the funeral was nice.

There was a luncheon right after, since grandpa was going to be buried the next day beside Grandma Ashcroft up in Eager, in the White Mountains, where he had been born. It was nice, visiting with family, and afterward I took my daughter Alyssa's children with us to LaKay's house to watch them so she could decorate a wedding cake for her father's, my ex-husband's, third wedding. Funny how things seem to happen all at the same time.

On Saturday Kami had a special awards ceremony at the Phoenix Zoo, where she was honored for painting an award winning picture of a duck in an art contest. Moe stayed with LaKay, to help her drive up to Eager, but my married kids went to the Zoo with us. As soon as Kami got her award I took Krissi and left to drive home, leaving Kami with the older kids. She was going to spend the first week of summer vacation down in the Valley.

Krissi and I got home about 2:30, just in time to run in and check on mom, then meet Moe and LaKay to drive over to Eager for Grandpa Ashcroft's graveside ceremony.

It seemed strange to come home after that, and find that everything was still the same, but different.

“When did my life become so convoluted?” I wondered.

Dad was gone, Grandpa and Grandma Ashcroft were gone, mom was terribly sick, and still life went on. I couldn't help wondering what was going to happen next?

My brother-in-law, Alan, mom's doctor, was as surprised as the rest of us that mom was still with us.

“Her heart must actually be much stronger than anyone thought,” was all he could say.

At first, every time mom had a bad spell I expected her to pass on, but as time went by I guess we all got desensitized. I knew it was coming, but somehow it wasn't as scary anymore.

But mom was so tired, and lonely for dad, and she just plain didn't feel good even when she was not in pain all the time, which she often was. Still, she was so patient and good, always worrying about other people, that it was easy to forget just how sick she really was. When I sat and visited with her, or when we watched TV together, she seemed just the same as always. It was when I helped her get up into her wheelchair to go to the bathroom, or into bed, that I knew how far down she had gone. She was the bravest, sweetest, most charitable person I had ever known, and I hardly ever even realized it.

Mother Held On

“They said they wished they had video taped me, so they could send it to Funniest Home Videos and make a fortune,” I told mom. “Ha, Ha, Ha.”

Mom laughed, and it was good to see her smile. I had just returned from the post office where I'd gone to mail a package for her. The wind was blowing, and it started to rain just before I got there. I tried to open my car door with the umbrella outside, so I could get out without getting the package wet, but the wind blew the umbrella inside out. I struggled for quite awhile, trying to get out of the car with a wet umbrella and the package under one arm. When I finally made it into the Post office, I found the Post Master and one of the clerks laughing their heads off at me. Their window looked right out on the parking lot, and they had watched the whole unfortunate incident.

“Seeing as how the Post Master is a friend, you would think he could have come out to help me,” I ended my story, and mom chortled again. Maybe it was worth the embarrassment as long as it made her smile.

Mom was sure having a rough time. About all she could do was sit and watch TV, since everything else was too strenuous.

Kami loved keeping mom company at night. They watched old movies and TV shows together, and Grandma really appreciated the company, but Kami had to go to school during the day, and time sure went slowly for her then.

That spring Russell asked Mary to be his wife, and they began planning their wedding. It gave me even more to do, but mom felt bad that she couldn't help. The wedding was planned for the end of April, but by the middle of the month mom was having attacks every few days. One evening just helping her out of her wheelchair and into bed caused her to get sick. I helped her into the bathroom, but mom passed out there. All I could do was kneel by her side and keep her from falling over until she came to, then help her back to bed.

“My chest hurts,” mom told me the next morning, “so I think I'm going to just stay in my bathrobe today.”

I was glad. Getting dressed and undressed was really too much for her. I got into the habit of going into mom's room when she was ready to go to bed, help her into the bathroom, then sit in her chair until she was ready for me to help her into bed. If we took it slowly enough I could usually get her into bed without making her sick, but each night was an adventure.

Russell and Mary's wedding was lovely. Mom didn't try to go, but she assured me that she would be alright by herself while the rest of us were gone. As long as she stayed in bed, or sitting in her easy chair once I helped her up, she was OK.

“Don't worry about me,” she told me every few days when I worried about leaving her to take the girls to school. “I don't get to sleep until so late that I like sleeping in. You just go run your errands or do whatever you need to do in the mornings. I'll wait to get up until you get home.”

That was nice. It gave me time to go out to the place and dig in my pond, which was a lot of fun, and made me feel like I was doing something worthwhile. Plus, I was getting into shape. Of course, I knew it was going to take forever to dig the whole thing out, but then, I had forever to do it. If only I didn't have to leave mom home alone.

Smiling Through

Slowly, bit by bit, mom got her strength back. She had good days and bad days, but overall she seemed to be recovering from the aneurism attack, and I had to wonder if she had really had an aneurism in her neck at all.

“I think I will go to church tomorrow,” mom surprised me by saying three weeks after her attack. “I won't stay for Sunday School or Relief Society, but I think I can make it to Sacrament Meeting.”

I was pleased, and a little wary. The actual going part didn't worry me so much, but the effort of getting ready might be too much for mom. Still, I was proud of her for wanting to go. She just plain wanted to do what was right.

Going to church really did wear her out, and Monday mom paid for it.

“I don't know what's wrong with me,” she sighed when I brought her breakfast into her bedroom. “I just can't get myself up today.”

It was no wonder. She was tired and discouraged all day, and I felt bad for her, but didn't know how to help. The following day, though, mom did better. She even came out to help me make supper that evening, the first time she'd been in the kitchen for weeks. It tired her out, of course, but I think it made her feel good to just be doing something!

That night the girls and I watched an old movie with mom in her bedroom. It was called “Smiling Through.” All my life I'd heard about this story. Mom was in a local theater production of it when she was a young adult, and she had a black and white photo of her in the play, wearing a wedding dress, dying in her husband's arms on her wedding day. I'd always loved that picture, but I'd never known what the play was about until I saw the movie. It was wonderful.

It's funny, isn't it, how things we do when we are young influence the rest of our lives. Mom was in this play about a man who learned how to “smile through” a terrible tragedy, and now here she was, sixty years later, smiling through her own adversity. How proud I was of her!