My dad and I had a conversation last summer, before he ever got sick, during which he informed me that it was his desire to be cremated once he died. Not ever having had to face such an issue before, I felt at that time that this was an individual decision - if Dad wanted to be cremated, that was his choice and therefore, okay with me.

At the time of his funeral in November, I became very thankful for this decision. I don’t think I would have been able to see him in a coffin. And I believe I might have just totally lost it if I had had to watch that coffin being lowered into the ground.

As time has moved on, however, I have at times now wished I had a place to go “visit” Dad - a place to try to connect with him somehow. But this summer, it dawned on me - I have that place every time I step into my backyard. I love to garden, to work in the yard, to plant and work in the soil. This love has been passed on to me by my dad and was passed onto him by his mother (this love also comes from my mother and her grandmother). I have several very tangible connections growing in my yard every year, growing from seeds that I received from Dad.

One is my morning glories (I was wrong, Janet, I have morning glories not moon flowers!). They are just now starting to climb the trellis but will soon take over this entire space and produce pretty purple flowers every morning:

Also making a comeback every year is my hearty hisbiscus, which again, I grew from seeds from Dad - from his hibiscus. It too is getting ready to bloom:

This is what  I will soon see (pic from last summer):

Dad always grew a mass of sunflowers along one part of his fence on the side of his house. Frequently, my boys helped him plant his seeds when we would go visit and then they would get to see the fruits of their labor:

So last year, I planted a few seeds and got 3 big sunflowers. This year we have at least doubled the amount we planted and have started calling them our Papa flowers:

Another feature in my Dad’s yard that they boys loved was a flat birdfeeder he made himself. They helped him fill this feeder up everytime we went to visit:

Knowing how much that feeder meant to all of us, my precious husband made us one this winter for our yard. He found some wood scraps of my dad’s (he was also a woodworker) in his shop and made me this….I am so very, very grateful to have it:

So as I am out there watering, I think a lot about Dad. I think of the times growing up when we would wonder where Dad went, only to find him watering the plants outside. I think of how I would call him to ask him what was wrong with this plant or another in my yard. I think of all that he could have taught my boys about planting and growing things. And I think about how thankful I am for the seeds he has planted in our lives.

Today I am 36 and a half.

Today marks 6 months that my dad has been gone.

Since April, my husband’s grandpa and my grandpa have passed away.

Grief is an interesting thing.

I have learned that no one experiences it the same. But it is something that, if it happens in your life, needs to be experienced. Some people choose to ignore it. Some people bind themselves to it. Possibly somewhere in the middle of those is best…but hard to find - or at least hard to maintain. To not let it define you - but yet it is a defining moment. And I thought I would have more to say but…

today that is all I know to say.

Miss you, Daddy.

My dad and I did not always agree on a lot of things. Like..when I could date, why real flowers were a necessity at my wedding, or whom to vote for during basically any election. BUT, we could always agree that anyone looked good in orange - the orange of Oklahoma State University, that is. OSU has always been a huge part of our family. Dad graduated from there, Mom went there for 2 years, both of my uncles were there at some point, some of Dad’s cousins graduated from there…and the thing that pleased Dad the most? My brother and I are both OSU alums.

If the date at the bottom of the picture didn’t give my graduation year away, the big camera Dad is holding would!

Dad passed on the passion and perseverance that is only known by us Cowboy fans. Being a Cowboy fan in the state of Oklahoma takes a lot of dedication …and hope. That is why our second favorite college team will always be whoever is playing OU. Because if OSU looses a game, the weekend could always be redeemed if OU got beat as well! I know, I have serious issues. Some might call it an issue-of-which-I-should-talk-to-God-about…but I just call it loyalty. Plus I can’t stand that stupid Boomer Sooner song! (sorry to all of my Sooner friends).

Tonight is Bedlam Basketball. If Dad were here, we’d be calling each other before the game, at half time, and after the game. Right now, we’d be secretly asking each other “So do you think we can do it? Can we win?” Though we’d never let anyone else know that we ever wavered in our belief that we can! So in honor of Dad tonight…

GO POKES!!

Last week was a rough one. I find it harder to write here during weeks when the grief is heavy. I was caught off-guard last week, more than once, by the physical and subtle emotional qualities of grief - especially when they became not quite so subtle. It began on Monday.

I had an acquaintance come over to help me organize the photos that sit in my closet and in my computer (something I had hoped to not ever do!). While flipping through an album with her, I came upon pictures of Dad…and I stopped breathing. I actually had to tell myself Breathe, Jenn. Take a breath. It was only momentary but it jolted me. I have photos of Dad around the house…why did these photos do this to me?

My mom is a counselor, working on her LPC (Licensed Professional Counselor) and she volunteers as a group facilitator at a grief center. Ironic, huh. She said, “Jenn, the photos around the house are planned. The others weren’t.” Makes sense, but yet I was surprised at myself. [Note: Mom and Dad had been divorced for 12 years. Though I know she has some grief too since they were married for 25 years, she is able to separate some of that out, bless her.]

Then on Tuesday, I had a frustrating day at work. Because I am part-time and because the agency is going through a re-model, I have no permanent place to do work. Last week, I had to float from computer to computer to complete my work. Now, even on a good day that would frustrate my very AR/Type-A personality. But this was not a good day. It was all I could do to stay the 4 hours I was to work. Immediately upon leaving, I call my precious husband (bless him too!) and completely fall apart. I am sobbing uncontrollably. And I feel like a freak. What is happening to me?

Because it’s not like I can’t function on some level. I don’t go around thinking about Dad all day or thinking about how sad I am. I do the cooking and cleaning. I go to were I need to go. I have even been exercising. But it all takes…so…much…energy. I am so stinkin’ tired all of the time.

Today, my precious mom again gave me a saving grace. She emailed me a hand-out she had in her “grief file”. The title of it is YOUR ARE NOT GOING CRAZY. This is what it says, along with my thoughts:

Normal grief involves a variety of characteristics that are common after a death.  Most people who suffer the loss of a loved one experience one or more of the following:

Feel as though the loss isn’t real.  May feel numb or feel that this has not really happened. (I’m not really doing this one. But I do have moments that I feel numb or that I just don’t care about anything.)

Experience bodily distress of some type.  Tightness in the throat or heaviness in the chest.  Empty feeling in the stomach and loss of appetite.  Tired all of the time.  Difficulty sleeping. (yes to almost all of those.)

Lack of ability to function as before the death.  Feel their mood change over the slightest things, cry unexpectedly and at unexpected times.  Forget or don’t finish things they start.  Feel restless and look for activity.  Find it hard to concentrate.  Lack of organization. (this is so me - all of it. again, really messes with my normal Type-A self.)

Be preoccupied with the life of the deceased.  Need to tell and retell the experience of the loved one’s death. (sometimes - depends on the who I am with)

Be preoccupied with the image of the deceased.  May sense the loved one’s presence, hear their voice, or see their face.  Find themselves expecting the person to walk in the door, etc.  Dream of them frequently. (I have had one bizarre dream with Dad in it. But otherwise, I don’t do much of this - I think because he lived in Texas and I didn’t see him all of the time.)

Feel anger, guilt or hostility which may be directed toward the deceased, themselves, family members, friends, God, medical professionals, or the circumstances of the death itself. (I am not filled with anger but I do feel very cheated - we were suppose to have 4-6 months, not 2 weeks.)

Feel as though they need to take care of other people around them by politely not mentioning their feelings of loss. (yes, I do this.)

Today is a new week. I hope it is not quite as rough. Maybe it helps to know that this might be my temporary new “normal”. I know it won’t last forever. And I know, overall, I am O.K. But I am also acutely aware that grief is a process; this is something I have to go through. I know He is with me. I know He is my Hope and my Comfort. And I know that I miss my dad. All at the same time.

I had a hard time starting the first grade. Being the first-born of a stay-at-home mom, I was not use to being gone all day from home. It was hard for me to make it through a full day at school without crying at some point. I would wake up and feel sick to my stomach and would hope that Mom would not make me go today. After a month or more of this, my parents started to really worry. It was Dad who came up with a plan that, I am assuming, he likely felt was a shot-in-the-dark. But it worked.

He gave me a silver dollar. He called it my magic coin. I was to keep it in my pocket and then hold it when I felt sad. It would make me not miss home so much. And by golly, that is exactly what it did. I took it to school everyday and eventually, I wasn’t so sad.

When Dad went in for his surgery on November 5, 2008, I decided to return the favor. I found two silver dollars, one from the year in which I was born and another from the year in which my brother was born. I took those to the hospital in Texas and gave them to Dad the morning of his surgery, hoping that he wouldn’t feel as scared if he had them. He looked at the coins, looked at me, and with tears in his eyes said, “You must be my daughter.” Behind him, his wife was pulling a purple bag out of her purse. Inside of it? Two coins. A Texas quarter and an Oklahoma quarter.

Oh, how tightly I held onto the coins during the surgery, during his two hospital stays, and during his memorial service. And now they sit on my night stand, reminding me that Dad is still waiting for me to come Home…

When we knew that Dad was not going to leave the hospital, when we knew that the pancreatic cancer was too advanced, my younger brother almost immediately felt that he wanted to speak at Dad’s service. I started to think about doing the same, but felt uncertain as to if I could. And then one morning, I woke up early and the words were just there. I knew what I wanted to say. I knew that I wanted to let people know that, at least for the 36 years I knew him, this was the kind of man Dad was. And it did feel good to stand in the front of the church (thank God for a huge, sturdy altar to lean against!), to look out at all of the faces of those who loved him, and to honor Dad with memories that are full of love and laughter and a legacy. Below are those words. I also plan to detail out some of those memories in later posts, creating a new category called Dad Memories, so that I can have them all in writing - for times when I need them….

Thank you so much for being here today with us to celebrate Daddy’s life. This place is full because there is no one who ever met Dad and didn’t like him. He made everyone feel comfortable and genuinely respected. Even if he ever made you mad, I’m bettin’ you still liked him! But I have to know, if he did make you mad, afterwards did he look at you and ask “Do you want to wrestle?” because he did that to me all the time and I hated it!

Since Daddy was such a good Daddy, the best kind, I have a few parenting tips that I think Dad would have wanted you to know, especially if you are a daddy with a daughter:

· When she is little and she can’t sleep, give her a nose rub. She’ll go right out.

· When she starts first grade and she is scared about staying there all day and she feels sick every time she has to go….give her a silver dollar and tell her it is her “magic coin” – when she holds it she won’t miss home so much and her tummy will feel better.

· When she has dance recitals – year after year after year after….Go! Neither of you will forget it.

· When she is in Girl Scouts and it is cookie sales time, take the order form to work and sell those suckers to EVERYONE! Your daughter just might win “Highest Cookie Sales” and you might just become an honorary card-carrying-Girl Scout, like Dad!

· When she is in junior high and she goes to the movies with her friends, when you go to pick her up, even though you know she sees you, honk the van anyway, just to be sure! This will make her really angry, but for some reason you’ll think it is sooo funny! (And then you can ask her if she wants to wrestle!)

· When she turns 16 and starts to drive, tell her things like “If you get a ticket, I get your keys.” And sound real serious about it. But when she gets her first ticket and hands you her keys, turn all soft and give her keys back.

· Starting very young, keep telling your daughter that Oklahoma State University is the best college around. Take her to lots of games, and you just might brainwash her into going there – and believing that it is the best college around!

· When she is getting married, complain about the amount of money this is costing you, but then cry when you walk her down the aisle. And even though you are quite certain that her new husband will never be able to care for her like you do, love him like a son anyway.

· When she starts to have kids and she goes into labor, be at the hospital – bring her beautiful roses from Sam’s and be sure to bring a fishing pole for your grandsons. Neither of you will forget this either.

· And when your family goes through hard times, keep telling your daughter that you love her. Give her lots of grace and keep asking “what can I do?” even though there might not be anything you can do.

I have two boys, Drew age 5 and Cooper age 7, and I asked them what they liked doing with their Papa. They talked about planting sunflower seeds, feeding the birds outside and the fish in his 3 aquariums, and spending the 4^th of July with him this summer. I asked them how they would describe Papa – and after talking about what the word “describe” means, they settled on “funny – Papa was funny.”

So maybe I could have just told you this: LOVE! Love your family, love your friends, love God, love life. That is what Daddy did. He sowed seeds of love wherever he went. I am a part of the legacy of that love and if you knew him, so are you.

During the past week, some people have said, “Jenn, I am sure you are asking “Why?” right now?” But actually I am not. I don’t need to know why. And though I may feel that all of this is really unfair and may feel a little cheated, there are a few things I have come to believe thus far in my life –

God is very, very big…..He is very, very good….and He loves us very, very much.

I read this in Proverbs 3 this week and thought “this says so much about my dad and so my about my Lord.” So I leave with this from The Message:

Don’t lose your grip on Love and Loyalty.
Tie them around your neck; carve their initials on your heart.
Earn a reputation for living well
in God’s eyes and the eyes of the people.

Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
he’s the one who will keep you on track.
Don’t assume that you know it all.
Run to God!

I’ve been trying to tell a story - a story about my dad that began on October 29, 2008. I have found that harder to do than I anticipated. Remembering the details of those 3 weeks is something I am obviously not ready to do. Maybe, in time, I will go back and journal the specifics of some moments. But for now I will summarize, here in this post, about our loss. There are current day-to-day moments that are entrenched with emotions of loss and grief that I need to process on this blog. In order for those to make sense, I must tell you this part of the story….

Dad had surgery on November 5th, a surgery that was to take approximately 6 hours, if all went as planned. It didn’t go as planned. About  3 1/2 hours into the surgery, the surgeon found us all in the waiting room to tell us that Dad had stage IV pancreatic cancer - it had already spread to his liver and stomach. We were told there would be no recovery from this; treatment was not an option, and we were informed that Dad had 4-6 months to live.

Chemotherapy was discussed but only for what the medical world calls paliative care, that is to say that chemo might make his quality of life a little better and maybe a little longer. But the first priority was recovery from the surgery which left a 6-inch vertical incision down his gut.

Dad was in the hospital for a week, went home for not quite 2 days and was back in the hospital on November 13th, if I remember right. What I do remember right is that we received a call on Sunday November 16th that his kidneys were shutting down, and we drove back to Texas. We were not to have the 4-6 months the surgeon had spoke of. Dad died on November 19, 2008 at the age of 61.

I am thankful we were with him those final days. I am thankful he did not have to endure difficult treatment or months of pain. I am thankful that he is completely healed now and spending eternity with The Almighty. But I am sad. Very, very sad. He was a precious Daddy and Papa. I miss him terribly. I know that with time, it will not hurt so much. But I am also aware that life from now on will have a hole. I have many stories - because life with Dad was never dull! He was quite a character. You would’ve liked him…most folks did. And me, well, I loved him. And I still do.

I guess it is time to tell some more of Dad’s story…something about the fog and drizzle…and the fact that I am worn out….makes me feel sad today.

It was a weird feeling, waiting for his surgery. On one hand, you want time to hurry up so we can just get “this” over with. On the other hand, if the news is going to be bad, you want time to stop, or to even go backwards. Back to before things felt scary and uncertain. Back to Daddy being healthy.

I talked to Dad every day on the phone - but with Dad, it is hard for him to have emotional conversations. So we talked about other stuff - the kids, the weather, how he was feeling today, etc. He was the only one during this waiting period that did not get on the internet and google “pancreatic cancer.” I think even that would have been too much for him - it was almost too much for the rest of us. Because you read things like “This year, approximately 37,680 Americans will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Statistically, 75% of them (28,260 people) will die within a year of their diagnosis. Within five years, only 5% will still be alive – a mere 1,884 people – and most of these will have a recurrence and eventually succumb to the disease.” And then you try to go to sleep. Don’t do things like that, O.K.

I remember that I ran errands one day by myself over that weekend. As I was coming home, the song Something Heavenly, sung by Sanctus Real, played on the radio. I had already loved this song but, that day, I was overcome by The Spirit. I felt again, that God was saying, Hold on, sweetheart, this is going to be rough. Trust that I am at work, that I am truly up to something Heavenly. And that I love you.

By the time I entered the house, I was sobbing. My precious husband looked at me and asked What is wrong? I begged him to promise me that God was up to something Heavenly. Because this feels like total chaos. Promise me that this is something bigger than me. Because otherwise, this ain’t worth it.