Last First. Last Last.

This past year I haven't been able to help marking the days and months by firsts and lasts. 2025 is the first whole year that my Dad will not be here. Today marks the last time I had the privilege to sit with Dad at home. To look across the room and see him walking towards me. To hear to his voice. Admire the twinkle in his eye. To Listen to his stories and experiences. Admire the cute curl in his hair I love when his locks get a little long. That day replays again and again every day in my mind. I'm so glad I stopped by. I'm so happy I gave him a hug and told him, "I love you". Though still each and every time wishing that I would have hugged him a little tighter and held on a little longer... not knowing then it was my last time embracing him in this life. 

People say the first year is the hardest. I have felt my capacity grow to manage the grief and sadness of missing him. Yet thinking that it's been a year since the last time I've seen Dad and shared the same space with him and that that moment will continually get farther away from the present as time keeps going... that's tough too. 

As I've rotated through all of the stages of grief, I've seen it bring me closer to God. Grief has put me in the place where hope through the Savior and His gift of the atonement and His promises are the most important thing to me. I've said it before, and I say it again, as much as I don't like to admit it... that even in death {I decided I don't like that word because I know he is still living and vibrant somewhere. I love Dad, not loved him. He IS a great man, instead of was a great man. I know him, not knew him.} Dad continues to teach me new things. In my last FB Father's Day post written to and for Dad when he was here, I wrote how he exemplified and gave me a healthy pattern for me to know and love my Heavenly Father. I continue to learn more about Him as I think about Dad. It's not any of the things I hoped or expected he'd teach me this past year. Yet I suppose they are some of the most valuable lessons I could gain. 

Every day I still hear myself thinking, "I want you, Dad! I want you here. I want you with me." 

One day I heard a quiet response; "I never left. I'm still here." 

My knee jerk reaction was a tantrum yelling back to that voice in my mind, "NO! YOU'RE! NOT!!" 

I'm surprised that in my stubborn mood the next little small, humble thought made it through, "But, what if it's true?" 

As I pondered upon this thought now that Dad has become heavenly, my thoughts turned toward our Heavenly Father. I am separated by both in this fleshy tabernacle. Did I mourn this way about the idea of being separated from my Heavenly Father as I feel about being separated from my earthly father? If so, I'm glad the veil wiped that out. ;) Yet as I think of that, I would choose to take this pain in remembering Dad rather than be ignorant of those years of memories and be without this sadness. "Tears are the price we pay for love." As is common with my blogposts... I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, pondering upon the similarities of my dad in heaven and my Heavenly Father.

Why must we be separated? What can I learn? What does this pattern teach me? If His physical presence was always before us, we would take it for granted. I would not do the personal and spiritual work it requires to seek His face. Since I am not currently able to physically see Dad's face, or Heavenly Father's, there is something that pushes me to learn more of them - from something higher - when all that I have of them is what has been recorded. To know God I look to the records of prophets in the scriptures and those who lead us still. What an incredible gift! Now that I can’t physically be with Dad now every written word, picture, and video has become much more prized, sacred, and holy. 

* I told a friend a couple of days ago that I am now a collector of memories. If you are reading this and you know my Dad, I would LOVE to have a record of your memories of my Dad. Please send them my way to add to my collection. TIA! Okay, back to my musings. 

Since I no longer get to see Dad's face, I have become much more dedicated to seeking and searching to spiritually fill that gap left from the void of his absence. People pass out of this world to be forgotten by many... yet not by those who truly love them and wish to keep them alive through their own actions and their deeds; That through our lives, we can become a living memory and legacy to the person who has passed on beyond the veil. 

When we have someone physically present before us, we always think that there will be time and another opportunity to ask them questions, to seek their wisdom. The character of the natural man is to always put off and procrastinate what can be done today until tomorrow. When the realization comes that we can no longer see them face to face, our efforts and our attention turn to seeking their faces spiritually and connecting to that realm where we know that they still exist, but we haven’t yet entered into ourselves. It pushes us to sharpen our spiritual senses to see those things that can’t be seen with our physical senses; to hear those things that can’t be heard with our mortal ears. Why is this so important? I don’t know fully yet, but I am learning this pattern of holy and divine learning is made evident in the life of our Savior. He is not always present before us, but that does not mean that He is not always with us. He is with us whenever we remember Him. He is with us when we speak of Him. He is with us whenever we seek Him through his prophets and through his recorded word and through them on those special occasions when He truly does appear to those who believe Him, remember Him and continually seek His will in this life.

Because I don't get to see Dad now, I give many of my thoughts and my efforts to remembering him; to remembering the things that he taught to the things that he stood for to the things that he loved and the things that he enjoyed; looking for him in all the things I encounter and experience. Doing my best to care about the things I know are most important to him. It’s not the same, but I’m finding that as I remember Dad, and as I remember both of my heavenly Fathers, neither one of them are truly gone from me in this world. Not really when we were all spiritual beings before we became physical ones and so much of this life is about learning to let the spiritual part of us rule the physical part of us until the day when we are all glorious resurrected beings together again. But that next time it will for always and eternity - forever.

We learn to be and to do so much more when the one who can do it all is no longer there to do it for us. Instead I learn through many ways {mostly clumsy trial and error} to become my own problem solver. It hard. It’s difficult. I yell out in frustration. But He’s never very far. I feel their help. And I hear Him as I sharpen those spiritual senses and await those answers in regular every day acts. It's a real effort of intent and energy. But it’s worth it. 

I was thinking of how God can make masterpieces out of messes. With all the mass of individual choices and personal agency that He is dealing with in us {it seriously boggles my mind - my limited brain just can’t compute it} how’s He’s orchestrating so much good in the lives of individuals, especially as He brings them together to love, support and {yes, even} mourn with one another. How so many things that fall apart in our view often times lead to better and greater opportunities and miracles. 

I have been blessed to see His hand in my life and in the lives of others. I see His love. I see His attention. I feel the healing only He can give. That through Him heartbreak and darkness have an end. It’s hard to see or even to acknowledge that when I'm in the depths of despair {I borrowed that from Anne of Green Gables :) ) and the darkness is so thick we can’t see the light. Maybe though it's only dark because I’ve been to squeezing my eyes shut to hide. But there must be a purpose to it. All encounter it. 

In my last Father’s Day letter to Dad now in heaven, I wrote how I wondered how any future could make up for the time and opportunities I’ve felt have been stolen from me here. There are two quotes that have helped me to think less myopic and more eternally:

“All your losses will be made up to you in the resurrection, provided you continue faithful. By the vision of the Almighty - I have seen it.” Joseph Smith

“[Mortals] say of some temporal suffering, ‘no future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that heaven once attained will work backwards and turn even that agony into glory… The blessed will say, ‘We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven.’”

C.S. Lewis 

Believing and hoping in these promises gives me hope. I know God can do what He says and that He always makes good on all His promises. I’m so glad I know Him, and that He is my Father. That He is all powerful and all loving. 

I await that day of reunion with great anticipation. But, while trying not to get in a hurry. :p

I still struggle every day imagining the rest of this life without you, Dad. But I’m learning that I can focus on one day at a time and I am doing my best to remember you, infusing my life with your memory and living up to all the good you are. I focus on Christ's promises and the ways I can find you in each day. 

I love my dad. I will always miss him. I know that though I say and feel, "I've lost my dad," that really he isn't far away, and he most definitely is not even lost. I KNOW that's not the wishful thinking of a broken heart, but a witnessed reality. I can't wait to hear the stories he will tell me of things that he's been called to do since he left. Sometimes I imagine what his current mission might be and think of ways I can be his companion working with him from this side of the veil. It brings me a piece of purpose and joy.