Some more things to remember

I'll be honest, it felt good to write that last one. As much as I was dreading it, and as much as I cried all the way through -- reliving some painful stuff -- it needed to come out of me. And in the process, I've thought of a few more details that I want to remember about this -- some of them aren't even that heartbreaking, actually.

** First, I still cannot believe the amounts of food that were brought to my parents' house from before we even arrived, until after the funeral was over and everyone was gone. It was so touching to see the generosity of neighbors and friends. When we first got to my parents', we had already eaten, but there were two different cakes on the counter, a box of croissants from a bakery, a big ziplock bag of cookies, and the makings for tacos for about 40 people in the fridge. My mom told me her brothers and sisters had loaded up their car with all kinds of sandwich makings, chips, and snacks when they arrived at the airport the night before. And that was just the beginning... another brother brought a huge cooler full of soda pop and more sandwich supplies, Grandma Eva made a turkey dinner one of the days out of the blue, and people from the church and community seemed to come by every few hours with a new offering -- homemade bread and jam, brownies, hot potatoes, pasta salads, banana muffins, etc. At dinner time, three different nights we ended up with TWO complete meals. Once, we even hid ham and potatoes in the oven (which hadn't been used in days), while someone else delivered pizza. We had to laugh at that one! It was really so sweet and so generous and thoughtful of so many people. And, we almost felt gluttonous trying to eat it up and not waste it. My sis-in-law wrote on her fb page when she got home that she had gained 10 lbs in 5 days. I can believe it. Luckily my nasty cold kept me from doing the same. ;( Even though it seemed to be too much at times, I loved just knowing so many people were thinking of us, sending their best "comfort."

** So, we arrived Friday night, and as I mentioned, Brian was still in the middle of a fairly busy stretch. He brought his supplies so he could work at my parents' house during any "down" time. But once he started working, he realized the internet connection was too flaky for him to get all he needed from his colleagues. (Let's face it, my parents live out in the country, so their connection is s.l.o.w.) So, by Monday, he was in need of a good, fast connection so he could really make some progress on his work. That morning, as I was headed to town with the kids, he asked if I could drop him off at the library where he would try to work for a few hours. Unfortunately, the library was closed for Veterans' Day. So, instead I drove him over to McDonalds... free wi-fi. :) As he was getting out, Samantha started making her "order" for what she wanted to eat there. I told her, no, just Daddy was going in and was going to stay there for awhile. "What is Daddy doing there?" she wondered. "He's going to work there for a few hours," I told her. Long pause... "Hmm... I didn't know Daddy worked at McDonalds." ha! Brian and I had a good laugh about that, imagining him slipping into his uniform and flipping burgers for a few hours just to make a buck on the day of the viewing. :) Then again, I wonder what the McD's workers thought of him, sitting in a corner with a laptop, shuffling papers for 4-5 hrs that day!

** I mentioned how Wade's viewing was verrrry well attended, didn't I? And how we ended up staying until after 10:30 p.m.?? Well, we wondered what to do with our kids during that whole long time, but ended up just keeping them there with us. Spencer crashed out on the couch for a good 2+ hours, Nat played or watched someone play someone's phone or iPad, and Samantha "reverently" ran around the building with one of her favorite second cousins, Brecken. They weren't too whiney or bothersome, so we just kind of let them do their own thing, while we visited with friends and family for sooo long. The only down side was that they didn't get to bed until nearly midnight that night... And the next day was the funeral. You can bet I was nervous about how they might behave on so little sleep, sitting for an hour or two during the service. (ie. worse than Stake Conference, ya know?!) Turns out, I worried for nothing. We had another short viewing before the service, and both Spence and Nat were very fidgety and unsettled. Sweet Alicia and Scott got us some paper and pens from their car to hopefully occupy them. And then we went into the funeral. Within 5 minutes, Natalie had curled up on Brian's lap and was fast asleep. Ten minutes later, Spencer crawled under the bench at my feet and was also fast asleep. They both slept almost the ENTIRE service. Talk about a blessing!! Maybe keeping them up all hours the night before was the BEST plan, after all.

** Samantha sat next to me during the funeral, and her cousin, Brittany, sat on the other side of her. They took full advantage of that notepad Scott and Alicia gave us. And, what was so very sweet was that they both took notes about the service. Really mature of them, I thought. And, what she wrote was surprisingly insightful to me. After the service, Samantha asked me to hold onto her notes, which I am planning to put in her book of keepsakes. Here's what she wrote (which she may have copied some of it from Brittany, who is a year and a half older -- but not all was Britt's):
Wade's Funeral Service
1.He had lots of nicknames. 2. ADEWAY (piglatin for Wade) 3.Zwolf 4. Zachary 5. Wade loved to read. Good babysitter. Built forts with hay. Played Star Wars. Swam in canal. Not a fan of school. Good scouter. Loved poetry. Was concerned with everyone. Three farm jobs. Went on a mission in Argentina. Has lived in Boise, ID. Loved gaming. Nice. Liked to stay up late. Caring. Loved his family. Brian, Robert, Wade and Lance are oldest cousins. Always a good photographer. Perfect uncle. Camping is something fun. Blue is his favorite color. Good guy. One of a kind. Good example. Touches lives. Very Smart.

** More than 200 people stayed for the funeral dinner. It was like a huge family reunion, plus we got to meet lots of Wade's friends whom we had only ever heard about. It was a special time, but so sad to me, too. All this togetherness felt like somewhat of a celebration, but the guest of honor was very obviously missing. I got a plate and found a seat (not with Brian, the place was too packed for us to find seats together, crazy!). Then I sat there looking at my food with tears pouring down my cheeks. It was one of those moments where I just couldn't hold back the emptiness inside me. I kept my head down, tried to use my napkin discreetly, and tried not to make any eye contact to avoid an awkward explanation or conversation. As I sat there, feeling so alone, missing Wade so very much, I suddenly felt arms around me from behind. My cousin, Mary, (who is actually my cousin Robert's wife, so technically cousin-in-law, I guess?) was hugging me from behind, whispering in my ear the sweetest, most reassuring things. She didn't really say much, just the occasional, "I'm sorry," "We all miss him," "Our hearts are all broken." And she let me cry there for a few minutes. Then I was better. Sometimes that's just what we all need -- someone to let us cry for those few minutes until we can dry up and move on a little bit.

** The first night we got to my parents' house, we were eating some of those delicious desserts and snacks, and our kids started winding down, getting a little bit cranky. I was sitting at the breakfast bar with my dad and I noticed Spencer getting particularly ornery about something. I called out gently to him across the room, "Oh Spencer, come here, Baby Boy." My dad's eyes filled with tears and he swallowed that lump in his throat as he said to me, with lots of tearful pauses, "I've been saying that all day to myself -- My Baby Boy. He saved our marriage by coming when he did... your mom and I had been married nearly five years with no children... We'd kind of gone our own ways and weren't nearly as close as we once had been. Then, once we found out we were expecting that little Wade Boy, everything changed... My Baby Boy."

I don't know if I can ever say that again without thinking of my dad and his love for his own sweet Baby Boy.

** I mentioned we went up to Wade's house in Idaho Falls on Saturday night, just to start assessing what would need to be done to get it cleaned out and all his stuff stored or divided. Well, with so many people there at my parents' house, kids to be watched, etc., we were trying to decide who should go, who wanted to, who could? In the end, it was my parents, my three brothers, and me. We took Trent's Suburban -- er, I guess it's a Yukon, but close enough. Anyway. It seats seven. And there were six of us in the car. For the first time probably since we all married, we were just in the car with the immediate siblings and parents. And one empty seat. I kept looking at that seat where Wade should have been sitting. I cry as I think about it now. But you know what? That night I didn't cry, couldn't cry. It was another of those moments where we all just felt a little extra comfort and peace about things. I truly believe Wade was sitting in that seat with us, just for that little drive together as a family.

** Blue was Wade's favorite color. It's mine too, I just realized as I sat down to write this. I once saved up my own money at Christmas time when I was 12 or 13, and bought Wade this awesome blue sweatshirt from Big-E (like Kings) as a present. I had to skimp on everyone else's presents because Wade's cost more ... like maybe $12, big money, ya know? I was so proud of it, and was so pleased that he wore it all the time. It was a nice, bright royal blue, and it said SURF in big letters across the front with an iron-on picture of a wave behind it. Good stuff, eh? Well, I wore blue to his funeral, because it was his favorite, and because I don't like black at funerals. For heaven's sake, people! It's heartbreaking and depressing enough as it is to lose someone dear. Well! Black is just a downer. If you ever wonder, don't wear black to my funeral, okay? Wear blue, or white, or red, or anything NOT black, please. Wade's casket was a nice navy blue. I think he would have liked it. Here's a picture or two...


The paul bearers: Lance, Blaine and Trent (brothers), Brian (brother-in-law), Ladd and Shawn (Hone cousins), Brian Alan and Robert (Phelps cousins, who felt more like brothers to Wade)...



**And here's a pic of all the family leaving the funeral together, walking out to the limousines (yes, we got to ride in limousines, and Brian even got to drive one! I think even Wade would have thought that was pretty cool, eh?)

I borrowed these few pics from my sis-in-law, Lisa, because I don't know where our camera is and I know there's not a whole lot to upload from it, since I took very few pictures of this whole sad time. But I wanted to write about walking out after the service. The organist had just started playing a primary hymn, Families Are Forever." Our little niece, Brianna, recognized the tune, since she and her family had recently sung it in their sacrament meeting. She started in at the beginning, then sang the entire song in her little three-year-old voice as we walked to the cars... "Families can be together forever, through Heavenly Father's plan. I always want to be with my own family, and the Lord has shown me how I can." It was sweet and light and full of faith and hope. I loved it, and I think a lot of others took comfort from her sweet song as well.

Okay, I think I'm done for now. I'm glad to share these little bits that have meant something to me through all of this. I also want to share my faith, just briefly. I haven't made this a blog of faith, and I'm not sure why. But I believe in God. He has answered my prayers in real and meaningful ways all through my life -- ways that let me know He is there, He cares, and I am one of His own children. We all are. I have felt His hand in this time of grief and mourning. This is part of His plan, too. I've never faced death with the people who are closest to me before. But I have now. And I will again, and again, because it is part of the beauty and wonder of life. It's a sad part, but it's part of the plan -- for us to live, and then die -- for us to greet each other warmly and learn to love each other here, and then say our goodbyes one by one. I've been so grateful to really mourn and reflect on the beauty of Wade's life, the simplicity of his passing, and the influence he has left with us as he has gone. I believe in heaven, and life after this life. I believe Wade's spirit lives on and is not far from us, but that he has other work to do, other callings from God. He's such a social person, I believe he is meeting a whole new set of friends and family to love and serve. And, in a way, it brings me great comfort to know that he has gone ahead, and will be there for each of our family members, as our time comes. Mortality feels much more real to me now, and I'm feeling more and more at peace with it as I reflect, grieve, and move forward through this loss. I am so grateful to have faith that is seeing me through this loss. It doesn't take away the emptiness I feel at not having Wade here for the rest of my life. But it gives me hope for better things to come.

One of Wade's friends put this together and posted it on Wade's fb page...

Wade took the picture himself, about a week before he died, at Mesa Falls, near Island Park, ID. And the Louis L'Amour quote, well, Wade loved to read, and LL was one of his favorites from the time he was in middle school. :) A fitting tribute, I think. We had it enlarged and displayed it at his funeral.

Good night. A little earlier tonight, thank goodness! ;)

trying to write... but it's hard.

Two weeks ago today my brother, Wade, was killed in a car accident. Isn't he handsome? He took this picture himself, with his own camera in his own "green screen" room. 42 years old, bachelor.

It was actually about this time of night that he died, maybe a little bit later. He was on his way to California, driving through that stretch of Southern Utah where the speed limit is 80 mph. One of his last text messages said something about how it was going to be a fast drive to St. George, with the raised speed limit. Another of his last texts said "YOLO"... and then he explained, for my mom, that YOLO means "you only live once."

Wade's car swerved off the road to the right shoulder and took out mile marker 76, around Parowan, Utah. We don't know why he swerved, but everyone in my family is 99% sure he wasn't asleep... that wasn't Wade. (And no, he wasn't texting... the texts were from when he stopped at the gas station in Beaver.) The police officers who eventually found him said there had been many accidents in that area involving deer. Maybe he swerved to miss a deer?? We really don't know. But he swerved right, then left, then right again, going off the road into some thick sagebrush.

His car rolled several times and Wade was thrown from the vehicle, even though he was definitely wearing his seatbelt. The accident report says he was killed instantly on impact ... severe trauma to the back of his head. His friend in California was tracking his progress with an app on Wade's iPhone and noticed he had stopped moving and was off the road. So, when he couldn't reach Wade by phone, text, or fb, his friend called the police. They couldn't find the wreck in the night, but discovered him first thing the next morning, on November 7.

The police called Wade's friend, and then tracked down my parents, who were on a trip with my mom's brother and wife, in Missouri for the week. I can't imagine how it felt for my parents to receive that call. Even hearing my parents talk about it was excruciating. They then had to pull themselves together enough to call all of my brothers and me. They actually talked to Brian at our house, and he came to find me and tell me the news.

I was in bed with a terrible cold and sore throat, just curling up for a nap, since Brian's mom had taken Nat for the day so I could recover. Brian peeked his head in the door and I thought he was just coming to tell me "good night." I smiled up at him, and saw tears in his eyes. "I have some very, very sad news for you," he told me. I couldn't imagine, not even a tiny bit, what he was going to say. He told me what he knew, and I wanted so badly to pinch myself and wake up. I screeched out "No! No! No!" over and over again in my crackling, scratchy voice. He held me, cried with me, then let me break free and shout "No!" some more. It was hard to breathe, nauseating, suffocating, excruciating. For a long time. Brian let me panic, then held me again, over and over. For an hour or so.

My cousin Jessica called, while I was still laying there on the bed, trying to process it all. She was crying, I was crying. She said, "I'm so sorry, Kam. I know you don't want to talk, but I'm just so sorry, so sad." Hearing her voice was soothing and heartbreaking at the same time. We only talked for 30 seconds, but it meant so much to me to weep with her for that short time. Other friends called throughout the day. I cried openly with all of them. Our conversations were short, but so very meaningful to me. I've been counseled to write what I'm learning through all of this. Well, one thing I learned is how important those voices of comfort are in such a heart-wrenching time; even if you don't know what to say, even if the person who is grieving doesn't "receive you" as you might be expecting; if you feel prompted to call, do it.

I pulled myself together -- sort of -- and called my parents. They were making arrangements to fly home that afternoon. We cried together, and tried to discuss some details/plans of what to do next. When could/should all the family get together? When should we have the funeral? How would we get Wade home from Utah? What about his truck? How could Brian and I help? What could we do?

It was a long, dark day of tears and more tears. I told Randi on the phone, "I believe in heaven. I know the things I've trusted all my life are real and true and good. I even feel comfort from the Lord right now. But somehow, all of this doesn't fill the emptiness that feels so consuming right now. It doesn't fill the hole that Wade has left." Two weeks later, this is still how I feel, though I don't cry as much now.

We picked the kids up after school and brought them home before we told them. Spencer wanted to ride his bike as we got out of the car. No, we told him. Please come inside for a few minutes with us, because we have something very important to tell both of them. Spencer whined a bit, then followed us inside. We sat on the living room couches and told them Wade was gone. We explained a bit of what happened, and how sad we feel about it.

Samantha grabbed a nearby blanket and put it up to her face, to hide some tears. She snuggled into my side and sat quietly next to me for a few minutes. Throughout the rest of the afternoon she quietly helped me with household chores, put on some soft music for us to listen to, and even looked up scriptures about "death" in the Bible and had me read ones that she thought would be comforting to me. It was so sweet to see her respond so compassionately.

Spencer, on the other hand, listened patiently until I was done talking, breaking the news. He was sucking his finger the whole time. Ten seconds after I finished, he pulled out that finger and asked, timidly, "Can I ride my bike now?" Sweet boy. He doesn't understand, and doesn't feel the loss right now. He only knows that Wade used to let him play games on his iPad, and now the iPad is at Grandma's but no one is playing it.

Natalie, of course, doesn't understand it either. She was gone all that day, and Brian's mom brought her back at dinner time -- and she brought us dinner, a huge help. I told Natalie the next morning, as I was cleaning up breakfast. I couldn't stop the tears, and she was concerned. So I told her I was "very sad because Wade died yesterday in a car accident, and we won't see him any more for a long, long time." She gave me a long, sad look and a sympathetic, "oh," as she stopped to process it quietly for a moment. A few minutes later she asked, thoughtfully, "so, will Wade be resurrected tomorrow?" Sweet little one. If only...

Back up just a bit to Thursday night. My throat had been so sore and I had been so weak for nearly 5 days. At Brian's insistence, I finally drove myself to an urgent care center right before it closed -- just to get a quick strep test and make sure I didn't need antibiotics. The doctor there was the most sympathetic doctor I've ever been treated by. He did all but cry out loud with me. He instructed me to be very mindful of my emotional health through the next days, which was something I think I needed to hear. And he listened to my baby's heartbeat to make sure all is still well with this pregnancy. It was a little blessing to me right then, to have a stranger show such compassion and concern. I reflected on his counsel and his kindness several times over the next hard days.

My parents asked us to try to come be with them as soon as we could; all the immediate family was trying to get together quickly. That Friday happened to be a very busy one for Brian. He had informed his work colleagues of our situation, and they were trying to be accommodating, but there was a huge project that Brian was leading, and it was hard for him to know how to step away and leave the work to the underlings. I'm not explaining it well, but it was obvious to him -- and me-- that he needed to do some serious work that day (and every other day until the deal closed last Thursday, turns out... poor Brian!)

We left in the evening, after the kids were home from school. It was a long, tiring drive this time. Both Brian and I were sleep deprived and hurting. The kids were restless, and my legs were hurting from my dumb bad veins that just ache like crazy this pregnancy -- ugh (those veins will be in another post, I assure you.) We were the last ones to arrive at my parents' house. By the time we got there, they had already decided the date of the funeral, and had a basic outline for the funeral program. I was relieved to miss some of those initial planning details, actually. Everyone said there had been a lot of tears, of course. In fact, my brothers coined a new catch phrase, that we all used affectionately over the next few days: cry-arrhea. ha! It's like diarrhea, only with crying... you just get through one wave and you think you're fine, then another wave of tears comes suddenly out of nowhere. Funny, eh? But it's true; I still feel that way. I can be okay, going along through my day, then all of a sudden, I can't even breathe, it hurts so bad. Tough stuff.


Hmm... Long pause for thought.
I don't have it in me to do more play-by-play here. I'm actually proud of myself for writing this much about it here. I've picked up my journal ten different times, or more. And I'm still not past that first moment when Brian came to tell me; it's just seemed to overwhelming to record.

But with all the hard, rough sadness of it all, there have been some beautiful times too. And I am learning things that I know I couldn't learn any other way. One beautiful moment was on Sunday, when all my brothers and dad returned from a loooong drive down to Utah to visit the crash site. They had been gone all day, and it had been by far my roughest, loneliest day. When they finally returned, around 10 p.m, they brought a sweet, calming spirit with them. I believe it was Wade's spirit, and so do my brothers. They said they had felt him with them throughout their drive, all day long. Well, no wonder we all felt so lost and lonely back at home... Wade was with them, not with us. Does that make sense? It felt so very real, just the absence of calm, and then the return of peace. I do believe his spirit was often with us during those first few days, and that he's now moved on to do other things, somewhere else.

Something I've learned, that keeps coming back to me... Every member of my family is grieving in a different way. Things that are soothing and healing for some, are not at all what others need.And that's okay. We all need to do what is best for our own healing. For example, on Saturday, with everyone all together, we went to the funeral home to plan the program and pick a casket. The funeral director mentioned at the end of our meeting, that Wade was in a nearby room, and was fairly "ready" to be seen, if anyone was interested. For me, this was an immediate no-thank-you. But for each of my brothers, it was soothing to see him, even though he wasn't dressed and prepped for his viewing yet.

Another example, we went to Wade's house on Saturday night, to see what was there and how we should plan to proceed with cleaning things out in the coming weeks. My mom and I had similar views with how to arrange his things, how to best organize and go through things. But my brothers had completely different views on how it should be handled. I am grateful to be part of a family that can move through those kinds of "differences" with cooperation and consideration of each others' feelings.

When planning the funeral, my mom really wanted to have the hymn, "God Be With You Till We Meet Again," sung as either the opening or closing song. It was something that felt very comforting and soothing to her. But my dad really didn't want that particular hymn to be sung; I think he felt it would be to hard and sad to bear. I guess they sort of compromised, and my mom asked me to play it as part of a medley of hymns on the piano. If nothing else, that was a comfort to me... just to play.

Wade's viewing was at the funeral home on Monday night, before the service on Tuesday. It was supposed to run from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. When we arrived at 6:30, the parking lot was already quite full, as was the viewing chapel. An hour later, the line of people zig-zagged back and forth across the chapel and out the door down the hallway of the funeral home. It was actually one of the most touching, moving evenings of my life. And the last "guests" did not leave until after 10:30 p.m.

I didn't like seeing Wade there. He didn't look like himself anyway, and I was glad, because it just didn't feel right for him to be laying there. I only peeked into the casket twice, briefly. But mainly I stood with these hundreds of friends and family members, crying, hugging, reminiscing and remembering this wonderful, dear brother of mine. With almost every hug, this baby inside me kicked or stretched, feeling the pressure of the hug. Feeling that little life inside was a memory I'll treasure from that night -- almost like this little one was pushing me to be strong and happy and remember the sweet memories.

So many, many people came. So many bouquets and plants and cards were placed around the room. One that really touched me was a huge spray of lilies, hung on an easel near the casket. It was big enough, I thought it was maybe one of the ones my parents had ordered. I went to read the little card, only to find it was from "the Graduating Class of 1989, Blackfoot High School." Wow. It still chokes me up to think about it. I mean, how many people do you know who will receive a huge spray of flowers from their high school graduating class, 25 years down the road?? Wade must have had more of an impact than any of us can realize.

And yet, listening to the sweet, kind words from his friends over those few days we were together, and reading the many sweet tributes on his facebook page and in the cards and letters we've received... I'm left to wonder; maybe each of us has more of an impact than we may realize. Maybe that's one of the things I'm meant to learn from all of this.

As I have read through so many comments and cards, I've felt so comforted to feel the love of so many people who also loved my sweet Wade brother. And... I've also felt sad that all these kindnesses are coming after he's gone. I mean, I know Wade can probably read what all his friends have written, and he probably knows what people have said in his honor these last few weeks. He's probably on the "other side" enjoying these sweet tributes. But, well, why couldn't he have had that pleasure and joy before he had to go? Why don't we say those precious words to each other when we can benefit from knowing how loved we really are?? Here and now?!? Something else to learn, I suppose. I wish I could learn that one quickly, and apply it more readily. I keep so many of my thoughts of gratitude and love to myself. I can share more with the people who mean so much to me.

My bishop's wife called, one of those first nights. She told me to take time to hold my little ones and let their innocence and distracted-ness be something to help me heal. I have loved that thought, and have cherished some of the sweet, necessary hugs and cuddles with my babies. I hope to not forget this lesson either.

I've also learned a bit about how I grieve, and it's not so pretty. But it's probably good self knowledge: I shut down, go inside myself, hole up a bit. I loved and appreciated so many sweet comments from concerned friends on my own facebook page, but I struggled to be online and read them, just because it seemed like every new comment reopened the wound... still feels that way, I guess. I stayed with my parents for a few days after the funeral. Mainly, it seems like I made small talk with my mom and dad, played the piano, and tried to sleep. That was just what I needed. I was gone to my parents' house for that week, and, when I returned home, there were 17 new messages on our home phone. It took me two days after returning before I could make myself listen to them. In the days since, I've stood by the ringing phone, crying and wishing for someone to talk to, but have not felt up to picking it up and talking to a dear friend who is calling to console and comfort. I have tried to read, tried to write, tried to clean, tried to "go out" for some kind of therapy. Most all those things leave me feeling more emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. This is not depression. It is part of grieving, for me. And it's different from anyone else's grief. I'm grateful to learn this. And I hope for some renewal, with time.

I need to sleep now. Mornings are my worst, and they come early and relentlessly. Natalie is sick tonight, sounds a bit croupy. So, off I go for now. Next time I write about this, I intend to write about Wade. Not about what happened, but about the sweet, wonderful memories I have of Wade, and the blessing he has been all my life. I love him and miss him so much. And I am so grateful for his undying influence in my life.