December 31, 2017

It's just after midnight.  And the night is quiet as all the kids have gone off to bed.  I must admit, I'm feeling quite melancholy.  I noticed a lot of people were saying how ready they were to leave the year 2017 behind, how difficult it had been, and how much they were looking forward to a new year and a new start.  But as the ball slowly dropped in Time Square, and the seconds counted down, I felt an ache for all that had been during the year 2017.

My Dad was here in 2017.  He was alive and well and vibrant and very much a part of my life.  We visited each other, went on vacations together, shared family history adventures together.  We talked and played and sat side by side as we rode up the tranquil ski lift in Park City.  And now, like a stranger moving in, 2018 is here.  And it feels a bit empty.  It's like I've walked through another door, into another room, and my Dad isn't here.  And he's never been here.

I remember asking my dear friend Mya how she felt on that New Year's Eve a few years ago just after she lost her husband.  Her daughter was at our house for a little party.  At midnight, we all pressed our faces against the back windows to watch the fireworks bursting high in the sky around our neighborhood, and suddenly Mya's daughter said, "My dad isn't here anymore."  She was looking out the dark window, but I was looking at her.  We all sat silent for a moment.  My heart broke for her.  So, I asked Mya later,  "How does it feel?"

She told me that it was so strange to walk into a year that her husband will never see.  Like, every new day and every new year is leaving him farther behind.  We shed a lot of tears together about that.

I never could have dreamed that I would be looking out the dark windows just a few years later, thinking those same thoughts, "My dad isn't here anymore."  It feels like I have to take a deep breath and face that reality all over again.  I started thinking about how my Dad has been here to ring in the New Year every single year since 1952.  And he's been ringing it in with my mom since the early 1970s!  So, yes.  This is different.  This is new.  This hurts a bit.

All day, I've been thinking about what I could write to end this year.  It's been on my mind as we played our new, awesomely fun game, Catan.  I've thought about it as we played Jackbox TV and laughed to Brian Reagan, the comedian.  It was on my mind at church, as I led the music and listened to the speakers.  What can I say to sum up my feelings about this year?

First of all, I am so thankful that I set the goal to write.  I am so grateful for the prompting to do so, because I could have never dreamed or anticipated all that has happened.  I thought it might be fun to sit down and record some thoughts every day.  But, it has become a precious gift in my life.  Each day, as I have looked back over my day, I have recognized blessings that I didn't see before.  I have felt my heart grow in love and gratitude.  I have felt closer to my Father in Heaven as I have typed out my thoughts and poured out my heart.

I didn't know that I would be the PTA President, or how the marathon would turn out.  I didn't know that my Dad would get sick and die, or how I would survive through that.  I didn't know that I would be called to be the Relief Society President, and how I would love serving in our ward.  I just didn't know.  But now I do know.  And I've written it all down.

I've talked about this before, but years ago, I helped edit my Grandma Fowler's life history.  She had been gone for a few years, but I could still hear her voice as I read her words.  During one week of her life, she decided to write down every single thing that she did.  She thought it would be interesting to see all that she did as a busy mother of eight children, a wife, a business owner, and a Relief Society President.  I cherished every word she wrote that week.  It gave me such an intimate look into her life and her heart.  And it inspired me.  When she wrote that, I wasn't even a blip on the horizon.  My parents weren't even married.  She probably wasn't thinking about how much it would mean to her granddaughter someday.  I can't wait to tell her how much fun I had reading her detailed description of that week.

And somehow, I've done mostly that...for an entire year.

When I started, I wanted to write little essays or tidbits each day.  I just wanted to spend a little more time writing.  But before I knew it, my daily life was spilling out onto these pages.  I started feeling pressed to write about my day.  Each day.  That day.

At church today, we had a lesson on Family History.  I love Family History, and I will be forever grateful that I took the time to sit down with Dad so he could teach me how to do it.

One of the comments really pierced my heart.  The teacher said, "If you think you will have more time when you retire, you are wrong.  Prayerfully consider how to add it into your life now.  You never know what the future holds, and if you don't make some of these important things priorities now, they won't be priorities then."  And then he said, "You never know how long you will live."

I thought of Dad, and the feverish pace he kept up with family history.  He had this little bell above his computer, and he would ring it every time he found a new ancestor for our family tree.  He would keep at it day and night, ringing that bell as he went.  And that's exactly what I thought about today in church.  Yes, we just never know how long we will live!  I wanted to stand up on top of my chair and shout it to the class.  YOU NEVER KNOW HOW LONG YOU WILL LIVE!  I wanted to tell everyone to stop procrastinating the important things!

At the end of one of my favorite movies, Second Hand Lions, the little grandson of the sheik says, "They really lived?" Meaning, those men from Grandpa's stories are real?  But the answer came back, "Yes, they really lived."  And at that moment, you get it.  They really lived.  They had adventures and love and heartbreak and stories to tell.  They really lived.

Awhile ago, I told Greg I was going to try out just two goals for this next year.  Somehow that had worked for 2017.  I ran the marathon and wrote every day.  So maybe I could keep up my winning streak.  I told him I was going to write a book and become a decent golfer.  He was SO excited about my goals.  First, he loves to golf.  Second, he's always wanted me to realize my dream of writing an actual book.

But then, I got called to be Relief Society President, and I told him that maybe my book-writing dreams would have to wait.  His face fell.  "No!  Rindi, you have to do it," he almost begged me.  And I had to smile.  I felt so loved right then and there.  He is the best husband ever.  And he is so supportive!

Maybe that's part of why I have felt a bit melancholy to see this year end.  I just can't see where I am supposed to go.  But I know that if I turn my life over to my Savior, He can show me where to go.  He can help me see the important things, the things that must not be procrastinated.  He can help me to really live.

My sister, Stalee, texted this morning that Dad's name appeared in an article in the Standard Examiner about all the influential people who had passed away in 2017.  Dad was on there, directly ahead of Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.  My dear sister-in-law Laura's dad, Rick Favero, made the list, too.  We were all heartbroken when he died suddenly in January.

I felt kind of mad when I heard about this article.  I just didn't want it to be true.  No, I thought, I don't want him on any list like that.  I want him here!  But then I started thinking about how influential my Dad really was.  And my heart swelled with gratitude that he was so influential to me.  I am so grateful for every good day I had with my Dad.

Mom sent us all a beautiful text.  She identified all of the blessings from 2017.  I cherish her optimism and love.  She reminded us how blessed we are to have our dear, brother-in-law, Jaron, with us, and how blessed we are that he recovered from his brain surgery.  She pointed out all of the blessings we've all experienced with Dad.  And high on her list of blessings from 2017 was the week we all spent loving each other between watching Dad slip away in the hospital and gathering for his funeral.  I thought a lot about that.  Some people might think that would rank as one of the worst weeks of our lives.  But instead, Mom claimed it as one of our greatest blessings.  And I totally agree.

With a mother like that, how could I ever go wrong?  So, I'm adding her to my list of absolutely blessed things about 2017.  I dreamt last night that I saw my Dad.  We all ran to him, but he told us that he wasn't able to hug us.  Instead, he raised his hand, and one by one, we slowly pressed our palms to his.  I instantly recognized the warmth of my Dad's hand.  I would know that hand anywhere.  I woke up after that, and even still I can feel his large hand against mine.

Maybe that's the way the year is supposed to end.  Dad stood on the side of 2017, and we pressed our hands warmly together.  Then he turned back, and I stepped across the divide into 2018.  With all the love and the feeling he could muster, he touched my hand and sent me on.  He gave me everything I would need.  Go, Rindi, he seemed to say.  Go ahead.

I've got this, Dad.  I'm stepping into uncharted territory.  But, I've got this.

And then I thought, Welcome, 2018.  I wanted to make a sign for all the world to see on January 1, 2018 that said, If you wake up this morning, get out of bed, and are able to take a deep breath, be grateful.  Please, be grateful.  Not everyone made it to 2018.

But I did.

And with gratitude for my very life, I will make sure that I make it the best year ever!

Oh, what exciting things will happen tomorrow...