Home again

Jeff's dad passed away a week ago today. It already seems like he has been gone forever. We got there last Saturday and spent the next 5 days in and out of the hospital. They were heart-wrenching days. We took turns sitting with Jane by his bedside, rubbing his hand, talking to each other, crying. There was lots of crying. He was a little responsive the first 2 days we were there. That was a tender mercy I will not ever forget. We spent Monday night by his side with all of his 8 grand kids around him. We sang primary songs and herded the kids in and out of the room and created all kinds of noise. He would have loved it. The next few days he began to fade and passed peacefully on Wednesday afternoon. His funeral was on Monday and it was lovely. Jeff and Jane and Gene all spoke and the grand kids sang and it was such a nice tribute to this man we all loved. I think everyone there felt that.

And now we are home again. Today seemed almost normal. Jeffrey and Owen fought over legos. Paige watched Peter Pan. Brooks took a nap in his high chair. I folded loads of laundry. And then Jeff called and told me he was on his way home from work. And my heart broke a little. It was kind of a ritual they had. Most days on his way home he called his dad and they talked. They talked about work and dialysis and school and our basement and the kids and BYU and the weather. They talked about life. You don't realize what a big deal that is until it is gone. You talk to people everyday, at the grocery store, at school, at church, at the mail box.  But how many people do you talk to that really care what you have to say? Jeff's dad really cared what he had to say. And that is the selfish end of this mourning we are going through. He is in a better place, we know that. He is home again with people in heaven that have been waiting for him, people that love him. But Jeff is here and will have the rest of his life to live without him. And that is hard. It is hard to get a raise, or have a baby, or finish your basement, or go on a trip without someone to tell about it. Without someone to be excited for you, to ask about every detail. He was that someone. He wanted to know it all. He liked the details. He wanted to know the exact shade of blue the wall would be and if Brooks looked like a Blackmun and how many students were in my classes and how the lawsuit at Jeff's work played out and what we had for dinner and the deal I got on the vanity and... I could go on and on. He loved to hear it. He wanted to hear it. There are only a few people in your life that really want to hear it. And that makes it hard. Hard for my Jeff who is left without any parents at 33. Thirty-three is not old enough. Not old enough to lose your biggest cheerleader. And that is why my heart breaks for him today.