A note about this post. As I mentioned in February when my grandmother died, this blog is a record of family activities. I use it as our annual family history. Because of that, this will be a long post about my dad, one which may not be interesting to the casual reader (as if I have a lot of casual readers--until only recently, my own husband didn't regularly read my blog). Please feel free to bypass this entry if you would rather. More upbeat entries to come.
It was a sad but sweet weekend as we paid tribute to my dad. I have wanted to record my feelings, but I have needed a bit of distance from the actual events in order to adequately put into words all that has transpired. This was the most physically and emotionally draining few days of my life, and yet at the same time, a spiritually nourishing and comforting time, too. I have been with my family, including Uncle Charles and Rosemary Bosco, and felt the strength that comes from loving and supporting each other during trial and pain. I have felt so blessed to live close to those I love most. I have also been comforted by the outpouring of love, concern, and service from friends, and prayers I know many have offered on my and my family's behalf. Those sincere, compassionate acts and words of love have buoyed me up during this difficult time. My gratitude overflows.
On Thursday, Mom, Eugene, Christopher, and I went to dress Dad's body. In the spirit of how Dad would say things, he looked pretty good for a dead guy. It was hard to see his body so lifeless. We really are but clay without the animating force of our spirits. I was responsible for sharing time on Sunday and the theme was, "My body is a temple." I had been thinking about this prior to going to dress Dad, and as I looked at him, I was saddened by the mortal nature of our bodies and the knowledge that we will all die, but I was also overwhelmingly reassured that my dad's existence was not at an end. He was not there with us in body, but he was certainly there in spirit. I know that his spirit is very much alive and well. I was happy to be able to clothe him in his temple robes in preparation for his burial, a final act of service to my dear dad.
On Friday evening we had an open house in my parent's backyard in place of a viewing. We felt a formal and somber gathering would not really honor my dad in a way he would have liked. So we had a party. The Saturday after Dad died, Kent and I joined Mom, Aunt Georgianne, Uncle Tom and Aunt Darlene, and my cousin KateLyn to work in the yard. We weeded, trimmed, raked, and planted, and by early afternoon, the yard looked like we were having a wedding, not a funeral. It was all beautiful. Friday afternoon we set up a display table with pictures (some below), a sign-in table, and a TV and DVD player with a short video of pictures of Dad. Tysen (SIL) and Shaley (her sister) put it together and it made me cry every time I watched it. It is especially hard for me to see a picture of my dad with a grandchild. He loved our kids so much and I am sad they will not know him in this life.
As a treat on Friday, Steve Cox (neighbor and Tysen's dad) made root beer, Mom's visiting teacher Karen Carter and her roommate Darla Winger made ice cream, and many friends and neighbors brought cookies. The weather was beautiful and we had many, many people come to talk, laugh, and cry with us. It was a wonderful mix of current and past ward members, friends from high school, and work associates. Each of us, from Mom down to Mikayla, had people come just for us which was particularly touching, as well as those who know and love us all as a family. It was wonderful to see so many people I haven't seen in years and to celebrate Dad's life.
On the table with the book to sign your name, we also had quarter sheets of paper and asked those who came to share a favorite story or memory of Dad. These were both touching and funny. After everyone had left, we read them out loud and laughed and laughed. Dad had such a way with people; I was grateful for the stories that people shared.
Saturday morning we had the more traditional viewing prior to the funeral.
Remember how I said Dad didn't look too bad for a dead guy?
We had many, many people come, again, some we haven't seen for years and years. We laughed and cried with them too. Uncle Tom gave the family prayer, and then we had the funeral which was very well attended. We filled the chapel and the cultural hall. I'm sure Dad was pleased by the turnout. Each of us children participated, as did my mom. Bryan read a life sketch and Blake represented the grandchildren and told about some of the fun things they did together. He will remember my dad, unlike the rest of the grandchildren. Mikayla played a beautiful arrangement of Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing, one of my dad's favorite songs. I spoke followed by Eugene and Christopher, and then the Lamb sisters sang I Know That My Redeemer Lives. Dad loves the Lambs and he loves the Savior, so it was fitting to have both included on the program. My mother then spoke and shared such sweet memories of my dad from the earliest days of their relationship clear back in high school. My parents loved each other and worked hard at their marriage. It was often rocky and they were frequently at odds, but they were in it for the long haul and made it work.
Bishop Glenn gave a few short remarks, and then the stake president spoke, though he was not on the program. President Warner gave a most profound and touching talk, addressed to us as a family, that provided enormous comfort and encouragement. It was powerful. I told my mom I want to transcribe his comments when we get the recording of the service and revisit them as a family at a family home evening. After the service he found me and thanked me for my comments, but I thanked him for his. He said, "They were not from me." I am so grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who provides us with all that we need when we really need it.
As we filed out of the chapel towards the hearse and the parking lot, the high priests in the ward formed an honor guard, lining each side of the sidewalk. It was a beautiful tribute to my dad, their fellow quorum member, as well as to us as a family. It made me cry (some more), to see those good men who were friends of my father, offering their silent but kind support.
These pictures courtesy of my FIL George.
Thanks George!
On the light side, Kent and Brandt came a bit late to the viewing. Blythe and I were ready before the boys, so I took her with me and they followed after. When they arrived, Brandt was wearing socks but no shoes. He came up to me as I was in the receiving line and said, "Mom, do you have my shoes?" Indeed I did not. Kent had not been able to find the shoes Brandt normally wears, but there was a second pair in the shoe basket by the front door, but he didn't think to look there. So Brandt was shoe-less. Just after the family prayer, as we were preparing to go into the chapel, Brandt walked out of the room with cousin Luke. I thought Brandt was going ahead to "guide" the funeral director. Brandt likes to offer direction and tell people where they should be going, and I figured he would be right in front of us. Not so. As we walked toward the chapel, he was nowhere to be seen. Blythe was looking like she wanted to make a run for it, so Kent picked her up and went to find Brandt. He didn't return to the chapel for a long time. Kent was sort of in and out with the children, but mostly out. I didn't really see them through the service until the end, when Kent needed to give the closing prayer. I went into the foyer to be with them, and then managed to hold on to them from there.
Turns out Brandt and Luke went outside to check out the scooter which has returned home after a long absence at Kent's office, as well as Grandpa De's Harley which Eugene rode up to the cemetery. While outside, Brandt stubbed his toe. He and Luke walked across the street to Grandma's house, Luke found a band aid, and upon their return to the church, Makenna helped patch him up. All this while the funeral went on without them. Personally, I was unaware of their absence. Brandt did lead the casket, pallbearers, and funeral directors out the door and down to the hearse, directing them where to go. He likes to be in charge.
Dad is buried at the East Lawn Cemetery, next to Grandma Hare. It is a lovely spot: on a hill, under some trees, overlooking the valley. It is quiet and peaceful. It will be a nice place to go and visit Dad. Uncle Lauren dedicated the grave. As a family, we all gathered around the casket and asked others to take our picture. It was moving for me to look at all those who had come to support us, family and dear friends who love us. Made me cry, again.
Brendan Dalzen, Bryan DeMartini, Michael Dalzen, Michael Hare, and Will Knight
Charles DeMartini, Eugene DeMartini, Christopher DeMartini, Rock Ellison, and Kent Barrus
Blythe, Crew, Griffin, and Ava, taking a flower from Grandpa's casket.
Blythe came and gave me the orange rose she selected, along with a tight hug and a sweet "I love you, Mom."
All the family.
From left to right, working front to back (more or less): Ava, Rosemary Bosco, Missy, Sharae holding Collin, Makenna, Blake, Uncle Charles, Bryan, Luke, Sue (Mom), Kent, Brandt, Katherine holding Blythe, Crew, Griffin, Eugene (blocked somewhat by Blythe's head), Christopher holding Lyla, Tysen, Mikayla.
This is a courtesy name plate placed by the cemetery until we get the permanent headstone.
They spelled DeMartini without the R, but to their credit, did fix it later.
The Dalzen Contingent (my cousins)
Amber, Rachel, Brendan holding Dex, Uncle Lauren, Laurel, Michael, Kristen, Kathy, Georgianne, and Laurel
I found, at the end of the day, that I could hardly function. I felt that I had been emotionally strong, collected as I gave my talk, and spiritually supported. When all was said and done, however, I was drained. I came home and rested for a bit, but had to make some dinner and tidy up the house for the Sabbath. I felt like I had been put through the wringer, and really, I suppose I had.
Sunday was a good day. Sharing time went well. I was able to testify that our bodies are the temples of our spirits, a powerful and true bit of doctrine. I felt uplifted by kind comments from many people and reassuring hugs from ward members. We gathered as a family for dinner, all of us there, with Charles (who left on Monday) and Rosemary (who left today), and all the children. We laughed and ate and then went outside to watch the children run around. They were playing Red Rover and Mom and I joined in. We sat under the tree in the cool of the summer evening and talked, just like we do many summer Sunday evenings.
Cute Collin
Limber Lyla
Aren't they darling. Lyle was born in March last year, and Collin in October
Rosemary and Sue
Mikayla and Charles
Blake, Eugene, Sharae, and Collin
Blythe.
She ran around in her foo foo skirt windmilling her arms and shrieking.
She is so sassy.
See how sassy?
She is telling Mikayla something she feels strongly about.
Now she's giving Charles an earful.
Playing Red Rover
It felt so normal which I found both sad and joyful at the same time. Dad loved having us all around him, presiding over his wild, loud posterity . He wasn't there, at least not in body. We still are here, however, and we are going to carry on, remembering and loving him always. He will be in my heart until we are reunited, and I am grateful for all the wonderful memories I have of him. I am grateful for his example and his love. I will cry when I think of him, as I am doing now, but I will laugh too, as I am sure I will do often.
My dad in high school.
Playing football and his senior picture.
Mom and Dad at their senior ball.
On each anniversary, Dad bought Mom yellow roses.
As Mom has a yellow rose corsage, I think this tradition must have started at the beginning.
Dad and his brother, Charles
Dad always wore wild patterned pants.
With a wee Blake on the Harley
I love this picture of my parents with all their grandchildren at the time (missing Lyla and Collin).
They look so happy to be surrounded by all these little people.
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