Gone too soon.

It was November before I realized I didn't think about my dad's death on Halloween. He died on Halloween morning. Creepy, eh? Every Halloween since his death 6 years ago, I look at the clock every few hours, and recount in my head what happened. I do this because it's etched into my memory.
7:00 a.m. I'm getting the girls up for school, and am helping them get costumes on.
7:15 a.m. my brother in-law calls and asks to speak to my husband. I thought it was odd, but handed him the phone anyway.
7:20 a.m. I'm in passing in front of the fireplace on my way to the kitchen when my husband walks towards me, and stops me by grabbing my arms. He has a strange look on his face and says, "I don't even know how to tell you this..."
7:30 a.m. I'm in the car sobbing, trying to drive down the hill to my sisters house. We are going to see my mom, who is alone with a police officer in her house.
I'll never forget where she was sitting when we arrived, or how she cried, or how she pounded her fists into her thighs crying, "Why did he leave me??" It was very traumatic. I tell you this not to make you sad. I tell you this because last Halloween I didn't recount this whole event in my head. It never crossed my mind until weeks later. Then I felt guilty. But only for a minute until I felt reassured that this was good. For it wasn't good to just dwell on the sad, and tragic. My dad was a good and talented man that people really liked, and I should dwell on that instead. Because what good does it do to dwell on the negative? It doesn't do any good. He died two weeks after he retired. We had a "graduation" ceremony for my Dad and Mom on October 15th, and when I look at the picture from it, he looks really tired.

Tired because he worked hard. He wasn't one of those dentists that sat down to work on patients. He stood the whole day long. Somedays I'd go into the office at 5:30 a.m. to clean everything up, and he'd be back in his lab working on dentures, or somebodies crown. Somedays he didn't get done until 6:30 or 7:00 p.m., and if you needed him on a Saturday, he'd make time for you.
He had a lot of talents. He was a writer, a great public speaker, a jewelry maker, a sculptor, a wood carver, a builder, and an honest, spiritual man. For as long as I was alive he was either Bishop, or in the Stake Presidency. He always went the extra mile in his callings, and tried hard to make sure he always had time for us. He'd take us out individually, and collectively.
One morning he took me out to breakfast at a diner. A man sitting next to us suddenly fell backwards off the stool, and my dad realized he was having a seizure, so he hopped off his stool, and kneeled next to this man on the floor to help him. That's imprinted on my mind too. I don't have a lot of memories from my childhood, but that's one of them. Sitting on the stool, looking down at my dad and this man, thinking, "Wow, he just saved his life." The man probably wouldn't have died had my dad continued eating, but I was impressed that my dad jumped down to help so fast.
Not only was he a great Dad, he was a terrific Grandfather too. He loved playing accordian for the grandkids while they danced...

Or making swords and shields for them to do battle...

He was a life long learner. He memorized all the names of the books in the scriptures, and was always trying to improve his mind by learning new things. He sent us "D-Mail" by snail mail every month. The letters usually contained stories from his life, or advice for us. He had a lot of wisdom to share.
This is getting long, and I'm sure you don't want to read all about my Dad, so I'll close by saying, Happy Fathers Day Dad. I love you. Wish you were here.