Where do I begin. I have never lost anyone so dear to me. I mean, when you spend every day for the past 5 1/2 years in contact ALL day, talking & serving & receiving & laughing & everything else we did with/for each other, the loss is being felt even more and more as the days pass. I feel the need to express here for my family and friends who knew him, or who didn't, what he meant to me.
My children are all home sick today with what might be the H1N1 virus, and I can't escape over to my friend's house next door to take my own "time-out". Who is going to tell me that it's going to be okay? Who is going to tell me a joke and make me smile when I don't want to? Who is going to tell me that "every mom thinks their kids are the WORST", but that even though at times they can be the worst, it will pass, and I will like them again soon? Who is going to buy me bananas, because I'm ALWAYS out of bananas? Who is going to take me for a drive and scare the CRAP out of me, because he learned how to when he was a taxi driver in New York? Who is going to tell me stories about the War and not hold anything back, even though I'm a "lady"?
How do I write about a man who I care for as dearly as my own family? It is true that we grow to love those we serve. Yes, I had the incredible opportunity to serve him and do things for him he couldn't do for himself anymore, but in doing that, I grew to love him so very much. It wasn't one-sided service. He was in constant service to me as well. He was unable to physically serve me the way he served the whole freakin' neighborhood and their kids, but he always had a treat or a kind word, or a gallon of milk or fruit, and most of all, he loved my kids even though they are CRAZY noisy and energetic. He loved me even though I'm not chatty and I don't wear make-up, and my hair is always a mess. (Quote:"You're a pretty girl, if only you would put on some lipstick and quit wearing black shirts!)
I only got about five years, but I think I got the best. I'm jealous of those who knew the robust Dave, who built a swimming pool (complete with deck and shower), subsequent trampoline, not to forget that amazing train set (with 8 + different trains and computer to organize the chaos). But, I got the Dave who was so humbled by physical limitations, and so tender and sweet and kind...most of the time!
I was pregnant with Peter when we moved into the Richard's home. When I brought him home from the hospital, I went right over to Dave's house and set that little tiny baby in his palms. Dave felt a special bond with Peter from the beginning. Maybe it was because I made Dave hold that little boy every time he was around.
Maybe it was just meant to be. Either way, I knew they were kindred spirits. Peter was so tiny and sweet, and honestly, he knew Dave's name before Daddy's! As Peter is growing older, he is showing the same feisty, sensitive, proactive spirit that Dave (and Clay) possess. I just hope he learns to be as honest and forthright as they are as well!
In January a few years ago, out of the blue, he asked me what time my church was. I told him what time, and that I would be home at a certain time and that he could come over then. He said, "Would it be okay if I went with you?" I was floored. He proceeded to tell me that he wanted to have what Clay and I had. I'm not sure what he saw, but I was thrilled to have him come. It was an interesting couple of years. He would come to Sunday School class and ask very interesting questions. He was so open, and thank goodness for people like Kent Christensen & Matt Hanson, who taught the class on a weekly basis and did a great job addressing his questions. He is the kind of person who would not tell a lie, and would not do something he didn't really believe. He did what he said and said what he did, and church was nothing different. I couldn't sit with him in the class, but made Clay go in with him. There was too much contention and it upset me that he didn't get what we were trying to explain to him. He was listening, it just took a while to get it. Line upon line, right? After about two years of listening to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, he decided to be baptized. He was 86. A year later, he went through the temple so he could attend Michelle Bonham's wedding. Michelle is a fine example to me of someone who is not timid about sharing the gospel. I've always been one to wait for someone to ask me the questions, but Michelle put the required pressure on Dave to progress and be baptized, or not. He changed tremendously after his baptism. His coarseness was not so profound, and he became more gentle and meek, especially when it came to spiritual things.
Memories keep flooding into my mind and I am so overwhelmed. I miss him, but I am happy for him. I mean, he is no longer held back by his broken body. He doesn't have to THINK about getting up out of his chair, but probably just does it and then runs around for a while just for the heck of it. He said that when he dies, he wants to be in service for Jesus. He wants to be one of his guards so that no one will ever hurt him again. I think Jesus would want someone like Dave on his side. I'm glad I have him on mine.
