11 years ago today my dad died...

I don’t remember a lot about it. Well, I do and I don’t. It’s interesting how the mind semi-suppresses traumatic events. Of course I remember, but only sort of. Those moments--waking up at 3 in the morning to a phone call saying he wouldn't make it, rushing to the hospital, watching him flat-line--they are etched into my memory. Yet, the images themselves are faulty, almost fluid. Muffled. Like watching a scene unfold underwater--the sights and sounds distorted by the murky depths of a dark, ominous body of water. I remember some details, like touching his cold hands… because his hands were never cold. He would always warm my hands, but his felt like ice. It was all wrong. I remember my mom crying, but only vaguely. I remember lots of hugs, but the faces are muted. I couldn't tell you who was present and who wasn't. What I can remember with any certainty are the emotions. They are vividly seared into my psyche, into my soul. The abruptness of it all. His death was unexpected. There was disbelief combined with raw, gut-wrenching, soul shattering sadness--the kind of despair that can’t be described, and can only be understood by those who have lost someone very dear to them.

I was 14 years old, and my daddy was gone. 

My whole world had been ripped out from underneath me.

11 years. It’s strange, really. I've lived almost as long without my Dad as I did with him. I've done a lot of growing in this last decade plus one. I graduated high school, college, I’m married, I’m a mother… by all accounts, I’m a grown up. A full-fledged adult. But, he wasn't here to see any of it. I didn't get a daddy-daughter dance at my wedding and I’ll never see him hold any of my babies. It’s funny how days like this can cut me down, and make me feel 14 again--a broken little girl who wants nothing more than to be held by her daddy.

Just as I wrote that, as that old familiar sting of sadness began to settle in, my sweet, intuitive little daughter came over and demanded to be held. I was typing while she played with her toys. She was completely engrossed in them, independently, contently playing. But, the moment I needed her... there she was. A timely intervention. I was about to get lost in myself, and in that moment she redirected my attention. She climbed up, relaxed her little body, and snuggled into me. I got lost in her instead. Those of you who have (or have had) a 1 year old know that (apart from sleep time) these moments are quite rare. I think she knew I needed her. She reminded me what is important. She reminds me what's important. 

My Dad's name was Klair. I am Autumn Klair. My daughter is Klair Marie. 

I suppose I can't be held by Klair, so I hold Klair instead. 

She brings light to my darkness. 

I miss my dad. I miss so many things about him. I was always such a daddy's girl. I will always be one. He was an incredible person--the kind of individual that people liked to like. Dad was a “people person,” so to speak. Instantly endearing. He had a warmth about him, a gentleness, a kind smile. He was extremely humble. He was real. He didn't have a pretentious bone in his body and he accepted people for who they are. He really, truly loved people. He was very Christ-like. 

When I was little I would fall asleep in his arms every night. 

(These are just scanned from a scrapbook so please ignore the not-so-ideal quality and cutesy scrapbook decorations.)

My dad was funny, in a quirky kind of way--always telling silly jokes, making the kind of puns that would elicit a smile and maybe even an eye roll. He was a devoted Utah Jazz fan, hunter, fisher, painter, guitarist, and a blue-collared man all his days. He worked hard with his hands to provide for his family. And, even though we often barely scraped by, we never felt poor. 

My dad loved to learn. He was extremely intelligent and hungered after knowledge. He had a particular fondness for the Discovery Channel and History Channel. In another life he would have liked to have been a history teacher. I think it's a large part of why I chose to be a social studies teacher. 

He had a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I remember him telling me that it all fit together "like a puzzle" and that it "just made sense." He said it so matter-of-factly. I don't know if he realized the impact that conversation had on me. I have reflected on this often as my own testimony has grown. 

He was a fun dad. He took guitar lessons with me, even though he already knew how to play. We had regular movie nights on the weekends complete with too much junk food. He coached my sister's softball and my soccer team—always on the sidelines cheering us on. In the summer we played catch, Frisbee, and went for bike rides and long walks with our dogs. In the winter he would come outside and play in the snow with us. He bought a hat at Disneyland that said “I’m never growing up” and this was his mantra. He was big kid at heart. 

He had two girls, and loved us. Some men who only have daughters mourn the fact that they never had a son. He never did, and he never put us in a box labeled “girl.” He gave us every opportunity and encouraged us to do whatever we could dream of. He took us hiking, camping, fishing, and boating. He played and watched sports with us, and we had regular video game nights. He even let me go hunting with him (despite my perpetual “Bambi” references and petitions). And, when the occasion called for it, I remember him fumbling to try and do my hair. 

I definitely look like my dad, and I like to think that I inherited some of the qualities that made him so lovable. I know that my little Klair Bear certainly has. At first I wondered about naming her after my Dad, thinking perhaps it might be too painful. Now, I’m so glad that we did. 

She has brought new life to his name, to his memory.

I miss my dad, but I am confident I will see him again. I know that he watches over my family. 

I know that he is waiting on the other side to receive me and give me a big “bear” hug. 

How grateful I am for the atonement of Jesus Christ and the knowledge that family relationships are perpetuated beyond the grave.

On days like this, it's enough to calm my troubled heart. 

Also, this song is currently stuck in my head. 

Do you ever feel like a song speaks so perfectly 
to what you're feeling that you're convinced it 
was written just for you in that moment?

Four Years Down, Eternity to Go...

Yesterday was the 4th anniversary of the day I married this hunk.

He is the love of my life. Cliche? Maybe. True? Absolutely! I try to be the type of person that recognizes blessings and expresses gratitude. Yet, inevitably I find myself caught up in the ups, downs, and in-betweens of life and  I end up taking Sam for granted. Thus, I am thankful for times like these which cause me to reflect and realize what I have.  It's pretty humbling.

First off, he is kind. Now I know this may seem like a pretty simple, maybe even trivial compliment to pay a person. What good qualities does he have? Well, he's... kind! That's not the case for Sam. His kindness, his goodness-- it is all encompassing of his personality. It is the central tenet of who he is. Furthermore, one might wonder why I would choose to highlight this quality first. After all kindness isn't very "manly" by the world's standards. Why not focus on how strong he is?

His kindness is his strength. 

His goodness is a light that shines so brightly that a person could deny it as readily as the night can deny the rising sun. He is the kind of kind that complete strangers recognize, garnering their immediate trust and admiration. He possesses genuine charity--the pure love of Christ-- and this quality (a lifelong aspiration for many) flows so freely from Sam. He makes it look easy. He genuinely loves people, and they love him back.

He is steadfast and true. In a culture where faith is becoming increasingly taboo and deemed antiquated, my husband is valiant in his beliefs. He doesn't stand on the corner or shout from the rooftops in grand gestures. Instead, it is in his small, simple acts that his faith is made evident. He goes to church every Sunday. He accepts and takes pride in whatever service is asked of him--such as getting up early to help shovel snow at the church, or staying up late to prepare lessons for his 9 year old primary class. He is a worthy priesthood holder who constantly blesses his family, and takes advantage of any and all opportunities to serve those around him. He takes time to lead his family in prayer everyday. And, when someone asks him about his beliefs or the occasion arises to discuss them, he eagerly seizes the opportunity to speak of his love for Christ and his gospel.

He is hard-working. He rises early every morning and goes to work to provide for this family, and he faithfully comes home every night to us. (And, when he comes home he skips the couch and spends every moment he can playing with Klair until she goes to bed). He works long hours (sometimes forgoing sleep altogether) and travels to the far corners of the world to give us a roof over our head, food on the table, and so much more. He enables me to stay home with Klair--a priceless gift and privilege that has brought me more happiness than I know what to do with.

He is fun. He makes me laugh. He makes Klair laugh. He even laughs at my jokes! We really get each other. He is my best friend in the world and I enjoy sharing life with him. The most beautiful destinations in the world would seem dull without him by my side.

His an incredible father. Or should I say "Da da?" He loves that little girl more than life, and she adores him. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. How about two?

  

I could go on forever talking about his qualities. To sum it all up, he is the best man I have ever known. I don't deserve to have such an amazing, selfless man by my side. He is my light, my life, and my champion. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I owe every good thing in my life to the decision I made to marry him.

Sometimes when I think of God He seems so distant, so incomprehensible... and I find myself wondering what He is really like. In times like these I immediately think of Sam and the love he shows me. And, suddenly, God doesn't seem so mysterious anymore.

"The closer I come to you, the closer I am to finding God. You're a miracle to me."
                                                                                                                             -Anberlin