That Day in June

There is an old hardback book on a shelf in my grandma's house. It's been there my whole life, well, at least as long as I can read. It's called, "That Day in June." It's about when the Teton Dam broke back in 1976, flooding cities along the Teton River (including Sugar Salem and Rexburg, Idaho) killing 11 people, 13,000 cattle, and costing about $2 billion. It was devastating to the area, the  biggest disaster in the history of the area. Growing up so near Rexburg, I was very familiar with the story. I've even seen the broken dam. It's a tragedy that is still talked about today, and it has even been mentioned in General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, multiple times, and mostly to talk about all the miracles that happened. They can't talk about the dam without talking about how all the people in Rexburg and the surrounding areas organized, mobilized, and got to work with rescue and clean-up before the government could jump in and help. It is a story about the goodness of humanity in the face of a horrible tragedy.

I now have my own "That Day in June." It was a horrible thing that happened in my life, something that I wasn't expecting, and something that rocked my world in a terrible way. That day for me was June 12, 2019 when my mom called to tell me that my dad had died. Most likely from a heart attack. Most likely instantaneously. Someone found him next to his car at work. My mom found out when she called him after an appointment so they could meet up, and a stranger answered her phone call That stranger let her know that my dad was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. I think that stranger--a co-worker of my dad--even met her at the hospital. That day was a bit of a nightmare for me and my siblings, the kind of thing that is so unexpectedly terrible that it has to be a bad dream. But, I don't want to focus on the terrible parts of that day. I've written it all down somewhere else, but here, in our public, family record, I want to focus on the good things of that day.

Mr. [Fred] Rogers is quoted as saying that when a tragedy arises, you should look for the helpers. Just as there were plenty of helpers uniting and working at the Teton Dam failure, there were many helpers to our family, and many miracles too. It started out with the gentleman who found my dad.

After my mom called to let me know that Dad was gone, I told her I would call my grandparents so that she wouldn't have to. I was grateful to know that they were with my aunt at dinner, and that this aunt just happened to be in town. She is cool under pressure, and I felt so much better knowing that she was there for my mom.

Brian's coworkers didn't bat an eye when, after getting my call, Brian said, "My father-in-law just died; I need to go." They sent flowers to our house the day we got back home after the funeral.

On his way home from work, Brian called his mom, who then must have gotten word to Lea. As we were in our shocked haze and trying to pack, Lea showed up, hugged me, and, in typical Lea-fashion, jumped into our broken mess and called Hale Center Theater to exchange our tickets for that Saturday's performance of "Matilda" to another date and another show. I handed her my planner and she took care of it. She helped us pack shoes, and she took our dog for the week we were in Idaho. She even made our kids dinner before we left to head north. I will forever be grateful for Lea. When I grow up, I hope I can be like her.

As we were leaving, I had to shoot out a few texts to cancel some things that we had going--a babysitter for the next day and a scouting activity. Our ministering brother and good friend happened to reach out, not knowing what had happened, and we told him the news. He reassured us that he would watch over our house in our absence, and he went over and mowed our lawn while we gone. And those texts going around must resulted in prayers on our behalf because there was no way we could have done what we had to do without the peace and strength we felt. There were texts, Facebook messages, and a few phone calls. When we returned after the funeral, one friend knocked on our door and had a bunch of groceries for us. I'll never forget her thoughtfulness.

When we finally made it to my mom's house after the longest drive of our life, we found out that my mom had had people with her all evening--neighbors and friends dropping by to offer support, love, and comfort. They also brought food. My mom's fridge, her camper fridge, and a plug-in cooler were full with food for all of us. Someone brought soup. Multiple people brought over lunch meat, sliced veggies, rolls, and sliced cheese. Someone brought muffins. Someone else brought bags of cereal and milk. There were cookies, Chex Mix, and so many other things.


Brian took charge of the kids; I didn't have to ask.  I asked Brian if he could make a slideshow--a terrible thing to ask him--and he didn't hesitate. His heart was hurting too, and I'll forever be grateful for him taking care of our little family so I could focus on taking care of my dad. The day after the funeral was Father's Day, and I told Brian that I planned to go to church. He intentionally didn't wake me up that Sunday, knowing how desperately I needed sleep. I would have protested had I known, but hearing about the songs sung in Sacrament Meeting, I was glad that I didn't have to hear them.

My insomnia was out of control through this whole thing, and I was so grateful to be armed with Vitamin B-12. I couldn't have done this without it, and I'm so glad that I figured out part of my sleep issues before this whole thing happened. I also know that I was strengthened to do what I needed to do. I needed a clear head to write his obituary, write the first draft of his life sketch, plan the program, send in the program, wash his temple clothes (though I did forget to send his white shirt with his clothes), create his guest book (because I can never just go with the standard option), write a talk, pick out pictures to print, and help my siblings with all the logistics.

There were random strangers that mourned with us. When Mom and I went to Walgreens to pick up our photo order for the funeral, which included his guest book, the lady at the counter said, "This was a hard order for me." She knew what was going on. She'd just lost her own mother six months before that. We hugged her and cried together in the middle of the store. When I went with Mom after the funeral to work on taking care of all those little things that need to be taken care of after someone dies, one of the ladies at one of their banks cried with us as well. I learned that so many of us out there are mourning, despite the smiles we try to put on our faces, and we should always, always be kind. When I broke down in Michaels when I saw the patriotic decor on display, there were a few ladies that gave me an odd look, and I wanted to wear a sign that said, "My dad just died and his funeral is tomorrow" so that they'd understand that I wasn't just a crazy person crying over nothing in a craft store.

My siblings and I stepped in to take as much off my mom's shoulders as possible. Cal caught my mom trying to call the funeral home, and took the phone away from her. He talked to the people at the cemetery and the funeral home and scheduled meetings with both places. We always had someone drive my mom every where. We rallied together, and I'll always hold our time mourning together and planning my dad's funeral together as sacred times. We cried together. We laughed together to keep us from completely losing it. We picked out a funeral plot, the type of headstone, and a casket together.

  A group of sailors from Seattle flew in for a few funerals on Saturday, June 15, and they were able to attend my dad's funeral as well to assist in giving him his final Navy honors. It may have been a small thing to them, a duty they were bound to do, but it meant the world to us.

After making the arrangements with the funeral home, my mom, Taryn, and I went over to the floral shop to order a few arrangements for Dad's service. My mom was worried there wouldn't be any flowers if we didn't order some. Since he'd have a flag draped over his casket, we wanted to have a red, white, and blue arrangement, and then, since dad wasn't really into flowers, we had a very green arrangement made, his favorite color. When we arrived at the funeral home for our family visitation on June 14, I was so touched to find not only the two arrangements that we had ordered, but several more, and while we were there, they kept bringing in more. There was an arrangement from my roommate and dear friend Natalie, and that meant to much to me, as well as one from one of my high school friends and her family. After we got home, our BYU friends sent us an edible arrangement.

The day of my dad's funeral, we were surprised when my dad's brother Dean showed up at the house. In the 32 years that my dad had lived in that house, his brothers had never come to visit. His sisters Rachelle and Melanie came as well. All of my mom's siblings were also there, and a few of my cousins as well.

We had a public visitation before his funeral, and the line stretched out into the hall and wrapped around the chapel. The funeral got postponed 30 minutes so our friends could come and pay their respects, and I think they finally had to close it down so we could get started. We were overwhelmed by the love of so many friends, neighbors, my dad's co-workers, and family.

My amazing in-laws, Kirt and Julie, traveled up to support us at the funeral, which meant they spent 8-10 hours in the car in that one day. As we were heading to the cemetery, I told Brian that I wanted pictures, but I didn't want to be the one to take them, so he got Kirt to come over so I could ask him to step in as photographer for me. I popped my camera into auto, showed him how to work the back-button focus, and tried to reassure him that he'd do great (which he did, by the way). Brian's siblings worked together to make a beautiful photo album for me and for my mom of all the pictures of my dad from the slideshow that Brian put together. It's an album I will always treasure.

  The in-laws were amazing. The brother-in-laws served as pall bearers, alongside my brothers, and my amazing sister-in-law (and nearly sister-in-law), helped with kids are were so supportive of the whole thing. Thomas wore his dress uniform and presented my mom with Dad's flag, and David played TAPs. They all handled the kids and other logistics during the visitation as the six of us stood up with Mom by Dad to greet everyone. They kept our ships from sinking.

I wouldn't wish this kind of thing on anyone, but since we had to do this, I was so grateful to have these six people in it with me. There is something about being a part of the family from the beginning. I've never been so grateful for my brothers and sisters and for my mom. We have a code word for when things are hard. All I have to say is, "This is stupid" and they all know exactly what I mean. We came up with this somewhere in the middle of planning the funeral, and all these months later, we still use it. I couldn't have survived this whole thing without them.

The miracle in all of this is that I know I'll see my dad again. I know he's without pain, that he's in paradise. There is no doubt in my mind about that. I'm so grateful for Jesus Christ, my Savior, who has been the ultimate helper in all of this. There is no lasting sting in Dad's death, and his grave will not have the ultimate victory. Christ's sustaining power and grace have been with me since that day in June, helping me along. My heart physically hurts when I think about my dad no longer being on this earth, but I know that through Christ, that tangible pain will one day cease, and I will hug my dad once again. I'll tell him that I love him, and that I made it home too.

That day in June was one of the hardest days of my life, but thanks be to my Jesus Who will turn this tragedy into a triumph, and Who sent countless angels to lift us up in the meantime.