hitandmiss: To Celebrate

I'm just wondering how things are done in the spirit world. Do they celebrate the mortal birth and the birth we call death? We hear conference talks from time to time reminding us to celebrate life's important events, including birthdays and anniversaries, so I have come to the conclusion that they will be important even after this life. And I'm wondering how it will be done - angel food cake? (Is there such a thing as chocolate angel food cake?!?)

Aunt Lois, Uncle Lynn, Uncle Duane, Dad

Today is the first time I won't be able to wish my dad "Happy Birthday" and tell him what a great dad he is and how much I love him (and miss him). I'm sure that when I was a little girl I would make him cards, and that as I grew older I would spend some of my babysitting money to buy him some kind of a gift. I remember making him a pretty cool coin dish when I was in 6th grade. I think most of the presents I have given him in my adult years have been either clothing or books. So original. Last year I was able to visit close to his birthday and made him an apple pie, and I felt like that may have been the best birthday present I had ever given him.

How does a daughter ever say or do enough to express recognition and appreciation for all the sacrifices a dad makes? For being a dad who taught the importance of work and play? For the example he set of treating every person as someone of value and worth? For appreciating the beauty of this world and providing every possible opportunity to explore and discover together? For being funny and strong and patient and long-suffering? For loving my mother and treating her royally, which sometimes meant being a royal tease. I can't, I simply can't. But, oh, how grateful I am that I have so many wonderful experiences that I draw on daily, and I know that the example he set is one I will always be trying to follow. As my sister, Sandy, said at his funeral, "His humility probably kept him from knowing that he was one of the world's great men."

A few simple memories that have been on my mind most recently:

My dad taught swimming at Granite High School, and for several years my brother, sisters and I would go with him and take lessons. I tried so hard to be able to make it into his advanced swimming classes and lifesaving classes but didn't ever succeed. He never made me feel like I wasn't good enough, though.
Early summer mornings when we lived on Oakwood Street I remember going into our back yard and picking raspberries and peaches with him for breakfast, as well as helping him irrigate.

He and my mom pulled off some pretty spectacular Halloween parties. Once he was a mad scientist, complete with some crazy zapping thing that scared the heebie jeebies out of most of us little kids. Another time they put together a huge maze out of appliance boxes that went through most of our house. Kids had to find their way out before they could get their candy. (My sister, Janis, continues the tradition, and the year she didn't do it she got in trouble with all her neighbors.)
I was about five when Dad decided I could handle a fishing trip. I was sooooo excited! Before I went to bed I set my clothes out. I did not like it that he woke me up so early, though, it was still dark. And I couldn't wear the cute outfit I had picked out because it was too nice. And then we had to drive f.o.r.e.v.e.r. to get to a lake in the middle of n.o.w.h.e.r.e. (Strawberry Reservoir). And then we had to launch the boat, and that was b.o.r.i.n.g. And then we sat on the lake f.o.r.e.v.e.r, and that was b.o.r.i.n.g. But then I caught a fish! And everyone was really happy for me - until it was reeled in and discovered to be a carp. Garbage fish. I had caught garbage, and so it was thrown back into the lake. Then my dad and my Uncle Duane caught some fish, and they got to keep theirs. And then I had another bite! And it was another carp. That was when I decided fishing was really dumb and I couldn't wait for the day to end. Even though I have never made any effort to try fishing again I have always appreciated my dad's love for the sport and his patience in trying to teach me to love it too. He never made me feel bad for being a bad sport on that trip, and he never tried to convince me to try it again. When we would go to Flaming Gorge to fish I learned to love being able to hike around the lake and enjoy everything else but the fishing. And I definitely loved eating the catch of the day.
The first time he pulled me up on a slalom ski I think he was just as excited about it as I was. I can't wait to hear him say, "Atta boy, girl!" again.