Poems about Nani...and others:
Not long after Nani passed away my step father, Neldon, wrote this poem. I think he must have also been thinking of when his own wife, Mary, passed away several years ago...and maybe of his son-in-law's passing just over a year ago. Both wonderful, wonderful people. But I never knew this part of Neldon who, like my own father, retired from civil service at a military base, is very practical, and just doesn't come across as being the most sensetive guy. This speaks to the heart:
One Star
Who can count the number of the stars?
This is beyond the ability of mortal man.
So who will know if this count changes?
Is it possible that anybody can?
You may wonder why I ask this question.
I will try to help you understand.
There is one less star in my own sky,
Taken up by God's gentle, loving hand.
Now my heaven has an empty space,
And God's is one star brighter than before.
Will anyone else but me take notice
That the total count is now one more?
Today my Mom emailed me a couple of short poems. She didn't say who wrote them. I wondered if Neldon did at least one of them:
Not 'til the loom is silent
and the shuttles cease to fly,
will God unfold the tapistry
and explain the reason why
the dark threads were as needful
in the weaver's skillful hands
as the threads of gold and silver
in the pattern that He planned.
This really hit me:
God saw her getting tired,
But a cure was not to be,
He put his loving arm around her,
And said:
My child come with me.
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Some Notes About Nani's Passing
Hello Readers....all two of you, I imagine.
I haven't written on my blog for a long time. I feel the need to now because there are some important things I want to remember...and some things I want to acknowledge. This is the best place to do it; where it will be most accessible to me and where I can share it with my children, family and close friends. If you don't want to read the whole thing in one sitting, at least read the last. Then come back and read other parts later, if you are interested. I owe many people thanks and want them to know of my love for them and for God.
My wife of just over 30 years passed away about a month ago...August 7, 2015. It was in a car wreck, so totally unexpected. Of course I, with my children, have experience a whole range of emotions, from shock and abject disbelief, to thankfulness for having been associated with such an unusual and talented person and for the support and love shown by so many friends. It has been a struggle in many ways, needless to say, being both parents and all. But the hardest moments are when I see something interesting and think "Oh, I will tell Nani about this...." and then remember.
Yesterday, for instance, I took Joseph, Jenny (Joseph's wife) and Mary to the Utah Shakespeare Festival. We were there for the last performance to take place in the Adams Theater because a new and 'better' globe theater will be opening next year. It was quite an historical event. We missed the Green Show, but in the day's excitement I was beginning to explain to my kids how their mother had been one of those girls dressed up like an English lass selling toffee, how we had met just over in that building there and attended classes in those closer by, how we both worked cleaning the old Science Building and...then it hit me. That was before thirty years of marriage....and she is no longer here. I couldn't speak. I was crying silently and could hardly stop to shake Fred Adam's hand as he walked by greeting people. I realized how Nani would have loved to be there with us...and that maybe she was. But I could not hold her hand and see how much she was enjoying it. All I could think of was the two volumes of Shakepeare's complete works we still have on the shelf...with the rest of her extensive collection of fine liturature. I hoped she was with us, enjoying it.
But my purpose here is not just to lament her passing or expose all my feelings about it. There have been several little miracles that I have been advised by others to record before they are forgotten...by those who have been through similar experiences. So, I'm going to trust them. These are not glib expressions meant to minimize my or anyone else's feelings of longing for a loved one passed on. It is a record of some of the silver linings that always accompany the worst of times. And, being the practical man that I am (Nani will cringe) I will list them in order of their happening as far as I can remember what was reported to me. Please read with the knowledge that I miss my wife, but that I want to remember some things about her departure that make it a little more bearable for me:
1: A few days after her passing my brother-in-law was talking to me on the phone. He told me that about three days before the wreck, he kept having a feeling that someone in the family was going to die. He had no idea who, but he told his wife about it.
2: About a week or so fter the wreck that took Nani's life I found out from one of my step-sisters that the man who had T-boned our car was feeling terrible (Nani ran a red light...apparently after stopping she was thinking it was just a stop sign and got out into the intersection before he could stop). I couldn't stand to know that he was suffering, so I found out through my step-sister where he lived and visited him and his wife. We both felt a lot better after that. When I was walking out to my car his mother came out and said there was something I should know. She said that she and her husband had been following their son from picking up his truck or something (I can't remember what) when the accident ocurred. During the chaos after the impact, with police and the ambulance and the snarl of traffic, they found their son very depressed and blaming himself for my wife's death. His father proceded to give him a priesthood blessing. During the blessing the man's father was impressed to say that there were spirits there to welcome and comfort my wife. His mother told me that she and two or three others felt and stated that they had felt a definite gathering of individuals welcoming my wife and holding her as she was introduced into the Spirit World. She said that she actually saw a man all in white, with white hair, acting as if her were cheerfully greeting her.
3: Our Bishop (the leader of our ward or congregation in the LDS faith to which Nani and I belong) and our Stake President (the leader of a group of wards) both advised me to give my children Priesthood Blessings of comfort and guidence after Nani's death, and to have my oldest son give me a blessing. It was a very spiritual and peaceful experience. Joseph, my oldest, is not an emotionally affected man. In fact, he is very scientifically-minded (he is now working on his Phd. in engineering education, or something like that). But as lay his hands on my head and proceded to bless me, he chocked up and became quite emotional. He later said that he knew Nani was there as he gave me that blessing, and could have almost pointed to the spot where she was standing.
4: I spent many years as a Scout Leader. A couple of days after the accident three other former Scout leaders who are very close friends with whom I served happened to show up, unplanned, at the same time...one having just arrived with his wife from a weekend family camp. It was a great comfort for me to have them all there talking and laughing over old times...a visit that I sorely needed. I wondered if Nani had had something to do with it. One of them offered to build her a coffin free of charge. His wife did the lining and it was very beautiful, as many people pointed out.
5: A great friend with whom Nani and I car-pooled to college just after we were married is an accomplished musician. I had asked him and another true friend of ours (the same who made the lining of her coffin) to perform a song that we had both talked about wanting performed at our funerals: "Into The West" from Return of the King. The former invited my son, Jonathan (who had taken his guitar lessons from him years earlier) to join him in accompanying the singer, along with my daughter Mary who did the French Horn part on her violin. As we were in his recording studio practicing all was going so well. We started talking about how music really sets the mood for spiritual events. I felt impressed to tell them that Nani was very pleased with how they were doing this and a strong feeling of confirmation hit me so that I could hardly speak. I teared up. I should mention here that another number was performed by a professional entertainer who gives my son Caleb his voice lessons and has very successfully played the role of Jean Val Jean in Las Vegas and other places. He was accompanied by a sister in our ward. They performed the tune "Going Home" which borrows the second movement from Dvorak's "New World Symphony". Both songs were masterfully done and brought everyone to tears. I couldn't help but feel that Nani loved it.
6: Our Stake President advised me to attend the temple with my children who hold temple recommends. We chose to do some sealings since some of us were limited on our time. As we sat in a beautiful room, dressed in white and listening to the ordinance wherein a couple is sealed for eternity by the power of the Priesthood Keys granted to a worthy leader by God, the miracle of those words spoken when Nani and I were sealed reminded me that she and I are sealed together...that our covenant with God is not broken with her death. It came into my mind to point this out to our children who were there. It took me a while to get the words out. I don't believe there was a dry eye in the room as the Spirit of God testified to us that this is true.
7: A sister (friend...part of a ward family who we might call "Brother Smith" or "Sister Smith") called me a few days after Nani's funeral that she could see Nani standing up by the pulpit, smiling and very happy with the procedings, and that she was accompanied by ancestors. She told me that Nani apparently approved my talk thanking everyone for their support and kindness to our family. (If you are not LDS and reading this you may be tempted to think we are supersticious, support seances and the like. Nothing could be further from the truth. Doesn't Isaiah say that the living should look to God for the living to communicate with the dead? The Spirit World is very real to us and we consider that the veil is thin at times when a loved one passes on; that seeking communications from spirits through "those that peep and mutter" is very gimicky and deceptive. It is very common for those so gifted and guided by the Holy Ghose, a member of the Godhead, to behold spirits of those who have passed on...nothing spooky about it. I don't have this gift except to feel what I think is an occasional presence).
There have been many other silver linings:
A close friend and his brother who showed up just as we were getting home from the ER where Nani's passing was confirmed. They asked if there was anything they could do. I stammered, knowing that he owned the local wrecking lot, that I could use a car until I could find and afford a replacement. I was thinking he might have some clunker that could get me here to there without breaking down. Without a thought he handed me the keys to the car he and his wife had driven to our house and said "Take it. It's yours until you can find something." I tried to resist but it was no use. His brother and his wife, who were also very comforting, drove them home and I used it for several days. I might mention that they were on their way home from their own mother's viewing, where they apparently heard about the accident. I wish Nani and I could have made it to that viewing instead. But you don't find friends like that just anywhere.
Our Bishop and Relief Society President (R. S. is our churches' women's organization) showed up within minutes and several times thereafter. Folks brought brought meals in for several days until we had no more room to receive them, and several slipped me bills which I used to take care of several immediate needs. The members of our ward and other great friends were and continue to be a great support, often messaging us and letting us know we are loved and offering us help.
Nani's family has been amazing...not only in their emotional support but helping us with significant financial contributions for the funeral, getting a car, and other things one needs when one has not the mind to manage money. All this while mourning the loss of their sister.
My own family that I grew up in have been a shoulder to cry on when I felt I needed to talk to someone who would not judge. That is priceless. And my Mother and Step Father have been very generous.
A high school friend and another friend from not as long ago volunteered to watch our house while we were at the viewing and funeral. Just plain Godly service.
Our director at Metcalf Mortuary has been stellar in his service and sensitivity.
My pricipal where I teach, the vice principal, and my fellow employees (including my substitute) have been like a family...incredibly supportive and willing to fill in, listen, or whatever.
I could go on and on. The word, again, is "incredible".
Now, to finish;
The real miracle is my wife, Nani, and the last few days we had together in this life.
You see, Nani suffered from depression...sometimes extreme. There were times in our marriage when she was suicidal; wanted to give up; was sure she was screwing up our children and wanted to save them. Every single day was a struggle....to one degree or another. Yes, there were reasons, but they were not to blame. It was just part of her that she could never seem to shake. Maybe it came with her creativity...her genius. She was one of Dave Lee's protoges...and a prodigy. She graduated Summa Cum Laude in English Liturature from one of the toughest programs around...in three years (she would quietly laugh at the best BYU had to offer). She was even chosen by her professors to edit the campus literary magazine...but gave it up because she did not want her future children to see her name connected with some of the morals displayed in some entries...or lack of them. Above all, she had integrity. For all the struggles, she would never compromise that.
And money was a problem. It was always a problem, whether it was or not. The wick that often sputtered into flame. We couldn't do many fun things that we saw other families doing, as she would step over dollars to save...anything. She just couldn't see it, or believe that we would be okay. But we did what we could...on a shoestring. She wanted the kids to remember good things. About nature. About art. So we did what we could...for them.
And she worried endlessly about the kids. Endlessly. It was so hard to see the positive that everyone else sees without effort. But she kept trying...for them. For me.
But Holidays were the worst for her. There were many times I was quietly angry with her because she made them miserable for both of us...and some days for the kids. But I guessed that she could not control the bitterness of never being able to enjoy them herself. So I forgave, time after time, and learned over the years to coach her at least to a level of peace. But she was more angry with herself than I was. So, somehow, she always managed to enjoy some of it in the end...if for no other reason than to let our kids enjoy it. She struggled mightily to let us enjoy...anything. Heroically.
Some therapists helped. Some medication. But it was always there.
It galled her no end when people would say what a sweet and quiet person she was. "If they only knew the real me!" My thought was 'I you only knew the real you.' And she kept trying...every day...for three long decades.
I was always amazed at how someone could create so much beauty while feeling so much darkness inside.
Sometimes we had hope. Things seemed to be looking up. Maybe she could actually publish; create something that would be appreciated. Some thngs were. Contests were won, including that last of the most prestigeous international poetry contest sponsored by the LDS Church...the Eliza R. Snow. (I have to brag a little.) And some short story contests. Some even appeared in literary magazines. But she always talked herself out of much congratulations. And then she would slide back into the darkness, and hide it.
SHE NEVER GAVE UP, in the end. She kept her Temple recommend current too. She could find a measure of peace there. It saved her many times.
Our thirtieth anneversary was not a good one. It was tough. She refused to do anything until she felt better...well enough to enjoy a play or a symphony. Independence day had not been liberating for her either. It was a holiday. The week brought on another meltdown. That's when I swore to God that things would change...had even found her a therapist with promising reviews. He had handled soldiers with PTSD. It seemed promising.
And she did improve! I was cautiously hopeful. It might actually be coming around. It was certainly our turn...her turn. She had deserved it for so long. And she repented for that bad holiday. She really wanted to improve.
Maybe she bagan to see that she was already good enough. More than good enough. For a couple of weeks things went well. Hope. It rekindled plans to take the kids camping...those who could, even for one night at Pine Valley.
Her last journal writing in this life reads:
"I'm sitting in our car while rain pours down the windows in snakey rivulets between translucent drops. It's been raining all night and, judging from the solid gray sky over the mountain, it likely won't let up for a while...No hiking here today... But the rain-spattered car windows are a beautiful lens for the ponderosa pines and mountains. Maybe my depression is lifting because I want to come back again. Last night, as we set up camp, I thought how much easier it is to go camping with older children. I hope they don't remember much about my mistakes and impatience. Or at least hope they can forgive me.
"Eight minutes to go this morning. What else should I write? Last month, I didn't write morning pages. I allowed depression to shut me down. But, like the morning light that I now see through the western rim of clouds and a screen of ponderosas, maybe the fog of apathy is lifting... On Sunday I'll set up a plan to study the book recommended by my current therapist. I'll make myself do it...
"...The rain has dwindled to heavy plops on the car roof and window. Outside, it's light instead of misty gray. Sometimes I hear a smattering of rain like seconds-long buckshot. Machine-gun fire? Probably not... I just returned from walking to the highway and back. Every needle on each ponderosa bleeds a tiny pearl of rain. The effect of an entire branch, or especially the young pines is enchanting - like a sheen of tiny halogen lights lit by the fairies of a morning sun. It's the first detail of nature I've noticed for a long time."
It was beginning to clear up.
And, since we couldn't go hiking, we did our next favorite thing there...to visit the graves of both our ancestors who are buried in the Pine Valley graveyard. Maybe the Renchers and the Burgesses knew already. But we didn't. We calmly discussed how peaceful a place it would be to rest. That's when she told me she wanted to be burried in Enterprise.
It was just a few hours later that she went to fetch us some catsup and milk.
It was so hard a few days later getting what things we could out of the car before it was towed from the lot where insurance people could inspect it. It was my oldest son's worst day, and one of mine. I swore when I got away from there. Later it wasn't so hard when I picked up a couple of other things. I was all wrung out. I didn't declare the catsup guilty and didn't even look for the milk.
Now it continues to sink in. But facts are facts. And, to me, eternal things are fact. As modern men and women we seem bound by Earth and curse death and everything which takes away animation as if that is god itself. But we're wrong. We mourn, yes, and rightfully so. But mine is more for missing her eyes, her touch, her affection when she was in a good moment. But, I don't believe she is gone. Just through the door that I won't pass through right now. Not even a door. Death is not an end, but a beginning.
Some will say I am too glib (usually it's the sufferer who feels that others are idiots when they say "stupid" things like "She was called on a mission"), but the overriding feeling I have had from the beginning of this episode is that the Love of My Life has graduated. We had a great couple of weeks leading up to it. A wonderful night and day getting rained on without even a grumpy word. And God said to her "It is enough...welcome to my rest." And she is resting. Maybe working, but it's still a rest. And I can't deny that I feel relief for her. She is at rest. I can't wait to see her again, but that's the fact.
She is waiting for me, and she feels happy.
I haven't written on my blog for a long time. I feel the need to now because there are some important things I want to remember...and some things I want to acknowledge. This is the best place to do it; where it will be most accessible to me and where I can share it with my children, family and close friends. If you don't want to read the whole thing in one sitting, at least read the last. Then come back and read other parts later, if you are interested. I owe many people thanks and want them to know of my love for them and for God.
My wife of just over 30 years passed away about a month ago...August 7, 2015. It was in a car wreck, so totally unexpected. Of course I, with my children, have experience a whole range of emotions, from shock and abject disbelief, to thankfulness for having been associated with such an unusual and talented person and for the support and love shown by so many friends. It has been a struggle in many ways, needless to say, being both parents and all. But the hardest moments are when I see something interesting and think "Oh, I will tell Nani about this...." and then remember.
Yesterday, for instance, I took Joseph, Jenny (Joseph's wife) and Mary to the Utah Shakespeare Festival. We were there for the last performance to take place in the Adams Theater because a new and 'better' globe theater will be opening next year. It was quite an historical event. We missed the Green Show, but in the day's excitement I was beginning to explain to my kids how their mother had been one of those girls dressed up like an English lass selling toffee, how we had met just over in that building there and attended classes in those closer by, how we both worked cleaning the old Science Building and...then it hit me. That was before thirty years of marriage....and she is no longer here. I couldn't speak. I was crying silently and could hardly stop to shake Fred Adam's hand as he walked by greeting people. I realized how Nani would have loved to be there with us...and that maybe she was. But I could not hold her hand and see how much she was enjoying it. All I could think of was the two volumes of Shakepeare's complete works we still have on the shelf...with the rest of her extensive collection of fine liturature. I hoped she was with us, enjoying it.
But my purpose here is not just to lament her passing or expose all my feelings about it. There have been several little miracles that I have been advised by others to record before they are forgotten...by those who have been through similar experiences. So, I'm going to trust them. These are not glib expressions meant to minimize my or anyone else's feelings of longing for a loved one passed on. It is a record of some of the silver linings that always accompany the worst of times. And, being the practical man that I am (Nani will cringe) I will list them in order of their happening as far as I can remember what was reported to me. Please read with the knowledge that I miss my wife, but that I want to remember some things about her departure that make it a little more bearable for me:
1: A few days after her passing my brother-in-law was talking to me on the phone. He told me that about three days before the wreck, he kept having a feeling that someone in the family was going to die. He had no idea who, but he told his wife about it.
2: About a week or so fter the wreck that took Nani's life I found out from one of my step-sisters that the man who had T-boned our car was feeling terrible (Nani ran a red light...apparently after stopping she was thinking it was just a stop sign and got out into the intersection before he could stop). I couldn't stand to know that he was suffering, so I found out through my step-sister where he lived and visited him and his wife. We both felt a lot better after that. When I was walking out to my car his mother came out and said there was something I should know. She said that she and her husband had been following their son from picking up his truck or something (I can't remember what) when the accident ocurred. During the chaos after the impact, with police and the ambulance and the snarl of traffic, they found their son very depressed and blaming himself for my wife's death. His father proceded to give him a priesthood blessing. During the blessing the man's father was impressed to say that there were spirits there to welcome and comfort my wife. His mother told me that she and two or three others felt and stated that they had felt a definite gathering of individuals welcoming my wife and holding her as she was introduced into the Spirit World. She said that she actually saw a man all in white, with white hair, acting as if her were cheerfully greeting her.
3: Our Bishop (the leader of our ward or congregation in the LDS faith to which Nani and I belong) and our Stake President (the leader of a group of wards) both advised me to give my children Priesthood Blessings of comfort and guidence after Nani's death, and to have my oldest son give me a blessing. It was a very spiritual and peaceful experience. Joseph, my oldest, is not an emotionally affected man. In fact, he is very scientifically-minded (he is now working on his Phd. in engineering education, or something like that). But as lay his hands on my head and proceded to bless me, he chocked up and became quite emotional. He later said that he knew Nani was there as he gave me that blessing, and could have almost pointed to the spot where she was standing.
4: I spent many years as a Scout Leader. A couple of days after the accident three other former Scout leaders who are very close friends with whom I served happened to show up, unplanned, at the same time...one having just arrived with his wife from a weekend family camp. It was a great comfort for me to have them all there talking and laughing over old times...a visit that I sorely needed. I wondered if Nani had had something to do with it. One of them offered to build her a coffin free of charge. His wife did the lining and it was very beautiful, as many people pointed out.
5: A great friend with whom Nani and I car-pooled to college just after we were married is an accomplished musician. I had asked him and another true friend of ours (the same who made the lining of her coffin) to perform a song that we had both talked about wanting performed at our funerals: "Into The West" from Return of the King. The former invited my son, Jonathan (who had taken his guitar lessons from him years earlier) to join him in accompanying the singer, along with my daughter Mary who did the French Horn part on her violin. As we were in his recording studio practicing all was going so well. We started talking about how music really sets the mood for spiritual events. I felt impressed to tell them that Nani was very pleased with how they were doing this and a strong feeling of confirmation hit me so that I could hardly speak. I teared up. I should mention here that another number was performed by a professional entertainer who gives my son Caleb his voice lessons and has very successfully played the role of Jean Val Jean in Las Vegas and other places. He was accompanied by a sister in our ward. They performed the tune "Going Home" which borrows the second movement from Dvorak's "New World Symphony". Both songs were masterfully done and brought everyone to tears. I couldn't help but feel that Nani loved it.
6: Our Stake President advised me to attend the temple with my children who hold temple recommends. We chose to do some sealings since some of us were limited on our time. As we sat in a beautiful room, dressed in white and listening to the ordinance wherein a couple is sealed for eternity by the power of the Priesthood Keys granted to a worthy leader by God, the miracle of those words spoken when Nani and I were sealed reminded me that she and I are sealed together...that our covenant with God is not broken with her death. It came into my mind to point this out to our children who were there. It took me a while to get the words out. I don't believe there was a dry eye in the room as the Spirit of God testified to us that this is true.
7: A sister (friend...part of a ward family who we might call "Brother Smith" or "Sister Smith") called me a few days after Nani's funeral that she could see Nani standing up by the pulpit, smiling and very happy with the procedings, and that she was accompanied by ancestors. She told me that Nani apparently approved my talk thanking everyone for their support and kindness to our family. (If you are not LDS and reading this you may be tempted to think we are supersticious, support seances and the like. Nothing could be further from the truth. Doesn't Isaiah say that the living should look to God for the living to communicate with the dead? The Spirit World is very real to us and we consider that the veil is thin at times when a loved one passes on; that seeking communications from spirits through "those that peep and mutter" is very gimicky and deceptive. It is very common for those so gifted and guided by the Holy Ghose, a member of the Godhead, to behold spirits of those who have passed on...nothing spooky about it. I don't have this gift except to feel what I think is an occasional presence).
There have been many other silver linings:
A close friend and his brother who showed up just as we were getting home from the ER where Nani's passing was confirmed. They asked if there was anything they could do. I stammered, knowing that he owned the local wrecking lot, that I could use a car until I could find and afford a replacement. I was thinking he might have some clunker that could get me here to there without breaking down. Without a thought he handed me the keys to the car he and his wife had driven to our house and said "Take it. It's yours until you can find something." I tried to resist but it was no use. His brother and his wife, who were also very comforting, drove them home and I used it for several days. I might mention that they were on their way home from their own mother's viewing, where they apparently heard about the accident. I wish Nani and I could have made it to that viewing instead. But you don't find friends like that just anywhere.
Our Bishop and Relief Society President (R. S. is our churches' women's organization) showed up within minutes and several times thereafter. Folks brought brought meals in for several days until we had no more room to receive them, and several slipped me bills which I used to take care of several immediate needs. The members of our ward and other great friends were and continue to be a great support, often messaging us and letting us know we are loved and offering us help.
Nani's family has been amazing...not only in their emotional support but helping us with significant financial contributions for the funeral, getting a car, and other things one needs when one has not the mind to manage money. All this while mourning the loss of their sister.
My own family that I grew up in have been a shoulder to cry on when I felt I needed to talk to someone who would not judge. That is priceless. And my Mother and Step Father have been very generous.
A high school friend and another friend from not as long ago volunteered to watch our house while we were at the viewing and funeral. Just plain Godly service.
Our director at Metcalf Mortuary has been stellar in his service and sensitivity.
My pricipal where I teach, the vice principal, and my fellow employees (including my substitute) have been like a family...incredibly supportive and willing to fill in, listen, or whatever.
I could go on and on. The word, again, is "incredible".
Now, to finish;
The real miracle is my wife, Nani, and the last few days we had together in this life.
You see, Nani suffered from depression...sometimes extreme. There were times in our marriage when she was suicidal; wanted to give up; was sure she was screwing up our children and wanted to save them. Every single day was a struggle....to one degree or another. Yes, there were reasons, but they were not to blame. It was just part of her that she could never seem to shake. Maybe it came with her creativity...her genius. She was one of Dave Lee's protoges...and a prodigy. She graduated Summa Cum Laude in English Liturature from one of the toughest programs around...in three years (she would quietly laugh at the best BYU had to offer). She was even chosen by her professors to edit the campus literary magazine...but gave it up because she did not want her future children to see her name connected with some of the morals displayed in some entries...or lack of them. Above all, she had integrity. For all the struggles, she would never compromise that.
And money was a problem. It was always a problem, whether it was or not. The wick that often sputtered into flame. We couldn't do many fun things that we saw other families doing, as she would step over dollars to save...anything. She just couldn't see it, or believe that we would be okay. But we did what we could...on a shoestring. She wanted the kids to remember good things. About nature. About art. So we did what we could...for them.
And she worried endlessly about the kids. Endlessly. It was so hard to see the positive that everyone else sees without effort. But she kept trying...for them. For me.
But Holidays were the worst for her. There were many times I was quietly angry with her because she made them miserable for both of us...and some days for the kids. But I guessed that she could not control the bitterness of never being able to enjoy them herself. So I forgave, time after time, and learned over the years to coach her at least to a level of peace. But she was more angry with herself than I was. So, somehow, she always managed to enjoy some of it in the end...if for no other reason than to let our kids enjoy it. She struggled mightily to let us enjoy...anything. Heroically.
Some therapists helped. Some medication. But it was always there.
It galled her no end when people would say what a sweet and quiet person she was. "If they only knew the real me!" My thought was 'I you only knew the real you.' And she kept trying...every day...for three long decades.
I was always amazed at how someone could create so much beauty while feeling so much darkness inside.
Sometimes we had hope. Things seemed to be looking up. Maybe she could actually publish; create something that would be appreciated. Some thngs were. Contests were won, including that last of the most prestigeous international poetry contest sponsored by the LDS Church...the Eliza R. Snow. (I have to brag a little.) And some short story contests. Some even appeared in literary magazines. But she always talked herself out of much congratulations. And then she would slide back into the darkness, and hide it.
SHE NEVER GAVE UP, in the end. She kept her Temple recommend current too. She could find a measure of peace there. It saved her many times.
Our thirtieth anneversary was not a good one. It was tough. She refused to do anything until she felt better...well enough to enjoy a play or a symphony. Independence day had not been liberating for her either. It was a holiday. The week brought on another meltdown. That's when I swore to God that things would change...had even found her a therapist with promising reviews. He had handled soldiers with PTSD. It seemed promising.
And she did improve! I was cautiously hopeful. It might actually be coming around. It was certainly our turn...her turn. She had deserved it for so long. And she repented for that bad holiday. She really wanted to improve.
Maybe she bagan to see that she was already good enough. More than good enough. For a couple of weeks things went well. Hope. It rekindled plans to take the kids camping...those who could, even for one night at Pine Valley.
Her last journal writing in this life reads:
"I'm sitting in our car while rain pours down the windows in snakey rivulets between translucent drops. It's been raining all night and, judging from the solid gray sky over the mountain, it likely won't let up for a while...No hiking here today... But the rain-spattered car windows are a beautiful lens for the ponderosa pines and mountains. Maybe my depression is lifting because I want to come back again. Last night, as we set up camp, I thought how much easier it is to go camping with older children. I hope they don't remember much about my mistakes and impatience. Or at least hope they can forgive me.
"Eight minutes to go this morning. What else should I write? Last month, I didn't write morning pages. I allowed depression to shut me down. But, like the morning light that I now see through the western rim of clouds and a screen of ponderosas, maybe the fog of apathy is lifting... On Sunday I'll set up a plan to study the book recommended by my current therapist. I'll make myself do it...
"...The rain has dwindled to heavy plops on the car roof and window. Outside, it's light instead of misty gray. Sometimes I hear a smattering of rain like seconds-long buckshot. Machine-gun fire? Probably not... I just returned from walking to the highway and back. Every needle on each ponderosa bleeds a tiny pearl of rain. The effect of an entire branch, or especially the young pines is enchanting - like a sheen of tiny halogen lights lit by the fairies of a morning sun. It's the first detail of nature I've noticed for a long time."
It was beginning to clear up.
And, since we couldn't go hiking, we did our next favorite thing there...to visit the graves of both our ancestors who are buried in the Pine Valley graveyard. Maybe the Renchers and the Burgesses knew already. But we didn't. We calmly discussed how peaceful a place it would be to rest. That's when she told me she wanted to be burried in Enterprise.
It was just a few hours later that she went to fetch us some catsup and milk.
It was so hard a few days later getting what things we could out of the car before it was towed from the lot where insurance people could inspect it. It was my oldest son's worst day, and one of mine. I swore when I got away from there. Later it wasn't so hard when I picked up a couple of other things. I was all wrung out. I didn't declare the catsup guilty and didn't even look for the milk.
Now it continues to sink in. But facts are facts. And, to me, eternal things are fact. As modern men and women we seem bound by Earth and curse death and everything which takes away animation as if that is god itself. But we're wrong. We mourn, yes, and rightfully so. But mine is more for missing her eyes, her touch, her affection when she was in a good moment. But, I don't believe she is gone. Just through the door that I won't pass through right now. Not even a door. Death is not an end, but a beginning.
Some will say I am too glib (usually it's the sufferer who feels that others are idiots when they say "stupid" things like "She was called on a mission"), but the overriding feeling I have had from the beginning of this episode is that the Love of My Life has graduated. We had a great couple of weeks leading up to it. A wonderful night and day getting rained on without even a grumpy word. And God said to her "It is enough...welcome to my rest." And she is resting. Maybe working, but it's still a rest. And I can't deny that I feel relief for her. She is at rest. I can't wait to see her again, but that's the fact.
She is waiting for me, and she feels happy.
(Nani Lii during a happy moment
as a cub scout leader
around 11 or 12 years ago)
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