1993 - dad

as i've mentioned before, for most of my childhood, my dad had various health problems. from gall stones to hip replacements to heart transplants, we kind of saw it all. i watched him swallow an entire handful of horse pills every morning and night and watched his body swell up as a side effect of prednisone. our cupboards were filled with small glasses and glass stirring sticks for some of his meds and my mom was meticulous about the cleanliness of our house.

we just got used to it.

but the summer of 1993 was particularly rough. earlier in the year, my dad suffered encephalitis and, as the ambulance whisked him away to the hospital, sirens blaring, he had a grand mal seizure en route. when i caught my first glimpse of him lying in his hospital bed, he had enormous, dark purple bruises on his wrists and ankles. apparently he had broken through the leather straps tying him down.

the doctors and nurses gave a grim prognosis - that of a vegetable. throughout the summer, though, he began to improve. one step at a time, he learned to walk again and eventually built up to very slow walks around the neighborhood. as it was summertime and we kids were home, we took turns being his "nurse" for the day after my mom left for work. she'd wake us up and we would lie down in her side of the bed and help dad with whatever he needed.

by the last week of august, miraculously, he was deemed well enough to return to work. although he was back on the heart transplant list, the rest of his health had improved enough that it was decided he could go back a few days a week to help train someone else to do the work he had previously been doing. my sister kelli and i were "off track" that week in our year-round elementary school rotation. so when we both woke up that morning, we had the house to ourselves. we lazed around watching reruns of the brady bunch and doing other very productive things.

around 9:30 am, the phone rang and i answered. it was my neighbor. "hi maren," she said, "i just want to let you know that we are here for you. if your family needs anything, please don't hesitate to ask." completely confused, i responded, "okay, thanks," and we both hung up the phone. 

i went back to my productive morning and about a half hour later, the phone rang again. i ran into the kitchen to pick up the receiver. it was a man named dale russon. he introduced himself as my dad's old mission president and now the owner of russon brothers mortuary in salt lake city, and asked if he could speak to my mom. i told him she was at work, but could i take a message? "you mean they didn't even give her the day off work when her husband died?", he responded, in shock. quickly, i replied, "my dad didn't die!" "oh," he said, and his voice softened. "well, could you just have your mom call me when she gets home tonight?" i told him i would and hung up the phone. 

at this point, i was really confused. two strange phone calls, one claiming my dad had died? who were these crazy people? if my dad had died, i would surely know before they did. my mom would call. kelli was only hearing my side of the phone conversations and was probably more confused than me. we decided everything was fine. if it wasn't mom would call. so we went back to our lazy morning. 

about an hour later, my aunt karen {my dad's older sister} called. "hi aunt karen!," i said. she must have had the presence of mind to realize my voice was enthusiastic and simply asked if my mom was home. when i told her she was at work, she said, "oh! of course! do you happen to have her work number?" after i gave her my mom's phone number, we had a short conversation and then hung up the phone. 

but it just didn't feel right. my aunt karen didn't normally just call in the middle of the day during a random week in september. and she was well aware my mom worked full time and wouldn't be home. and it wasn't normal to get phone calls from neighbors offering general support and help. and we never ever got phone calls telling us our dad had died. so kelli and i stood in the kitchen, feeling a little...i'm not sure what. afraid? sad? confused?  

it wasn't five minutes before the garage door opened and my mom drove in, dan in the passenger seat. he was supposed to be at school but was, instead, red-faced and crying. they walked up the steps from the garage into the kitchen where my mom bent down and said, "girls, your father died today." 

i don't remember if she said anything else. i felt like i got whacked in the stomach. i couldn't breathe. my fears from the morning's phone calls had come true and i could do nothing but stand in the kitchen and cry. 

my mom explained that he arrived at work and collapsed in the elevator on the way to his office. there just happened to be a doctor in the elevator who watched over him until the ambulance came. he was rushed to the nearby hospital where he passed away shortly after. my mom and bishop cobbley of my ward were there. she told him she wanted to tell each of her kids in person, not over the phone - so he knew not to call. she drove straight to scott at bingham high school to tell him the news. he, in true scott fashion, decided to stay at school. he wasn't one to miss school let alone do it to sit around and be bummed all day. then she drove to south jordan middle school to tell dan. as my dad's mini-me, he was devastated and immediately decided to come home with my mom. that's when they drove up to tell us girls.

after my mom explained the delay, i told her about the three mysterious phone calls. i'm not sure exactly how each of them found out, but news traveled fast and my mom felt awful. she was grateful that at least my aunt had the presence of mind enough to notice my mood and not share any information she thought i didn't have yet. 

that afternoon, we had visitor after visitor after visitor. it was my best friend mindee's birthday and i decided to get out of the house to meet her at the bus stop. the morning's events eventually came out and she stopped dead in her tracks. i remember just hugging her for the longest time and being so glad it was her birthday so we could celebrate something and i could feel the slightest bit normal. 

the next few days were a blur. they were full of visitors, tears, memories and lasagna. 

everyone. brought. lasagna.

as much as i appreciated the thoughtfulness, i just couldn't take anymore lasagna. i will be forever grateful to my mom's college roommate marieta, who saw our faces when yet another lasagna was delivered and instead took us out for pizza. 

that was a thursday. it was labor day weekend coming up, so we had a viewing monday night and the funeral tuesday morning. at the viewing, i was quite nervous to actually look in the casket. i never mustered up enough guts to actually touch his body, but i did take a peek. and it looked nothing like him. especially his mouth. it was all wrong. whoever had prepared his body, just didn't set it right and i couldn't get over it. i kept telling my family how much it was bothering me. 

the morning of the funeral, just before it was to begin, we gathered together as an extended family to have a prayer. with the casket open and my dad's body in view, the prayer began. i opened my eyes after the prayer commenced and could not believe what i was seeing. my dad was smiling at me. i know that sounds strange, but it was as real as anything i had ever experienced. he was smiling his perfect corey smile. i was standing next to my aunt denise, her hand around my shoulder. i tugged at her shirt and said, "he's smiling! he smiled at me!" i'm sure she thought i was crazy and had no idea what i was talking about, and it was smack in the middle of a prayer, but i wanted to shout it from the rooftops. i now know that no one else saw what i saw. i truly believe it was my dad, helping to comfort me and to tell me he was okay. i often think about that morning and how grateful i am to have felt his presence and love at such a strange and confusing time.

 {1993}

{funeral program}

it's been 18 years since that lazy thursday morning. my dad was 41 - and would now be 59. sometimes i wonder what he might look like. would his hair be gray? would he have hair at all? would he still be a crazy byu fan? {yes.} would he still call me marsidotes and sweet cheeks? where would he be working? would he be proud of my accomplishments? would he be happy that i found ryan? would he have told me how beautiful i looked on my wedding day? would he love leah just as much as i do and what silly nicknames would he have for her? so many questions. so many what-ifs. but i can tell you, without a doubt, that this experience has been one of the most strengthening experiences of my life. i know for a fact that there is life after death. and i know, with all my heart, that my dad is with me when i need him. he was with me on my wedding day and when i graduated from college. and he also stood by my side that morning i collapsed onto my kitchen floor from hearing leah's diagnosis. and, although i would give anything to have had him physically by my side for all those things and more, my life has been blessed and i have grown in unimaginable ways because he wasn't able to be. 

 {1982}

 {1983}

 {1984}

 {1986}

 {1987 - so thin and sick, with cousins beck and rach}

 {1989 at my baptism}

 {1991 - smiling on the dock at beloved lake merwin, 

wearing a murdock travel hat and a golf tshirt. 

basically a perfect picture.}

also in 1993: