Six Months Later: Ascending the Mountain

Pondering life at the top of the "Y"

I "hiked the Y" yesterday in Provo with Katey and Avery. It was very hard, but completely worth it once we reached the top. We've sort of taken up hiking the last couple of years as a family activity. In hindsight we know the Lord prompted us to do this as a way to spend valuable time together. Jack, in particular, loved to climb around on the rocks and explore the world around him, and I'm glad we had the experience to do that together.

Yesterday, as we were climbing higher and higher, I found it interesting how my perspective of the world changed each time we ascended and paused to rest at the end of one of the steeply inclining switchbacks. When you're down in the world, it's easy to become consumed, and even overwhelmed, by the things surrounding you. But with each bit of increased elevation, I found that the cares of the world seemed less acute when I had the opportunity to view them from higher ground. This really helped to battle some of the discouragement and pain brought into my life by Jack's death and the loss of innocence this has brought to me. Yes, at almost 40 years old I have found that some lessons can still shatter my world view, yet these same experiences teach me a lot and also create much deeper meaning in places where I had not taken time to fully appreciate what I had. This is, I guess, the essence of why trials exist and why the Lord allows them to occur in our lives.

The view from up above is quite spectacular and definitely worth experiencing. LDS temple attendance offers a similar and even greater view of the perspective we should try to maintain in our lives. Too bad we don't take advantage of these things as often as we should.

So, it's been six months. Life is falling into a routine again. We do a lot together as a family. We love each other, and we also drive each other crazy sometimes (a sure sign of normalcy). We miss Jack and think of him often. We pray for him always. (Before he died, I had never even considered the idea of praying for a deceased person, but he's such an integral part of our family--even after his death--that it just feels completely normal to pray for him even though he's not with us. In reality, I know he's just fine; it's us--the people left behind--who need the prayers.) We feel Jack strengthening us, and we cherish the memories we have of him. I know we'll be together again someday. We use these bright spots of memory, faith, and hope, to climb out of the deep valley of sorrow we unexpectedly found ourselves in on January 12, 2015. We use them to help us climb back up the mountain to find joy in the promise of forever tomorrows. We have happiness. We have hope. We're going to make it.


I wrote the rest of this post on Father's Day a few weeks ago (June 21, 2015) but decided not to post it at that time. However, after literally hiking a mountain yesterday to help find some peace, my thoughts have been focusing on Jack and our family and this journey called life, so I've decided to share it now. It's no great epistle, just my personal reflections.

June 21, 2015 - Some Thoughts on Fatherhood

I have no idea what I am doing. The longer I live, the more I realize what I don't know. I'm talking about Fatherhood. It's on my mind today because it's Father's Day.

My annual Father's Day photo with my children,
June 21, 2015

I've been thinking about my son, Jack, a lot. Truthfully, he's on my mind every single day, but I can say that over the course of the last 24 hours or so, he's been especially present. I don't live in a state of melancholy--that's just not the right course for me--but I do experience deep, scorching sadness sometimes. It's a sadness that's hard to describe. I'd never have been able to know this kind of pain had I not become a father.

Fatherhood is a gift and a privilege, but I've always been somewhat insecure about my daddy skills. I often feel like I'm not very good at it. ("It" being raising children.) But I keep going. I keep trying my best. (That's all we can really do, right?) My hope is that somehow, despite me, my children will turn out just fine, and that they will look back on childhood with fond memories. This is very important to me and has become even more so in the last few months. I think back to my own childhood growing up in the Rexburg countryside with much fondness. I want that for my children, too. And since losing my son, I have consciously worked much harder to ensure this happens. I want them to feel safe and secure and happy and loved. When they are all grown up I want them to be able to look back on their time at home with great affection.

So, I get to be a dad. I've been a dad for 11 years now, and everyday seems new and reminds me how little I know but also how much I love my kids.

From the moment my wife noticed Jack whimpering from a seizure in his bed at home to the moment she kissed him his final goodbye and the doctors turned off the machines trying to keep him alive in the hospital, approximately nine hours passed. Nine hours! He was awake for maybe four or five of those. This has caused me to reflect numerous times on what I would have done if I had known we only had nine hours left together.

The good thing is that I have few, if any, regrets, when it comes to raising my children. (Probably because my wife, Stacy, is such an amazing mother and does so much of the heavy lifting.) And now, looking back, I see how we were guided by God in Jack's final weeks to make lasting, meaningful memories as a family. These memories will be cherished by us forever.

So, if you only had nine hours left with someone you love, how would you use that time together? Perhaps I'd take my children on my knee and say something like this:

You are good enough just the way you are. But I push you forward so that you can become what you are destined to be.

Savor each moment in life; precious moments can never be repeated.

Follow your dreams. It doesn't matter if no one believes in you. I do.

Failure and pain are part of life. If you make an effort to live, they cannot be avoided. It's what you do with them that helps determine who you really are.

Don't believe the hype of the media which declares each day that humanity has broken down and the world is coming to an end. It's not true. There is so much goodness in this world. So much more good than bad. You don't hear about that on the news and you can't let the news be the only source for shaping your view of the world.

Avery, Katey, and Jack at Antelope Island, Labor Day 2014

To wrap up: there is great hope, joy, and peace to be had in this world. This comes from faith in God and solid family relationships. With those two things, nothing will overcome us. This doesn't mean it won't be hard, but it most definitely will be worth it.