To remember

Me and my sisters

On the drive back from Oak Harbor to Seattle area, I made a list on my phone of the things I wanted to remember from the funeral.

Things like my grandpa's service to his country. I heard more about his time in the South Pacific during WW2, but I did not know that he helped with the Berlin Rescue Air Missions in the 1950s. Or how he raised and lowered the flag morning and night outside their home every day, and taught his children how to fold the flag. I do remember many curios and souvenirs in his home from his Navy travels around the world.

My dad and his sisters told such funny and poignant stories, about the Ozarks, about shooting squirrels, carrying a knife, loving his pie (he pronounced my pie "ma pah"), tools, diesel VWs, and never swearing (once he said "son of a gun" after a crash).

I loved hearing about his testimony of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I knew growing up that my dad was not born in the church, while my mom came from the days of early church history.

When my dad was 4, the missionaries knocked on his parents' door on the naval base where they were stationed in California. My grandma said to come back that evening when my grandpa was home, and they did. He had a pipe and offered them a beer, because he had plenty in the fridge. They declined, and proceeded to teach them about the gospel.

They were baptized a year later, and my dad and his little sisters were sealed to their parents in the Los Angeles Temple. He remembers the long day and being dressed in white. They soon moved to Oak Harbor with the Navy, and met in a home in a small branch -- and they were needed. Their testimonies grew there.

Some things happened that could have shaken his faith or his resolve, but they didn't:

-They wrote to their families in Missouri and told them they found the truth. Their families were not interested.
-The missionaries that baptized them went home and fell away from the Church. My grandpa would write to them.
-On January 11, 1979, my grandpa's birthday, his son Bruce was shot and killed by his roommate in his sleep at BYU.
-My grandma died too early of cancer.

Each time he moved forward with faith, even though it was extremely hard. From my aunt: "He got up, showered and shaved, and walked to church."

He served as a bishop, stake patriarch, a missionary and an ordinance worker in the temple. He was obedient. He did family history and read scriptures.

What a legacy.

From my aunt: “My Dad recognized the truth and never hesitated. He moved forward with faith and never looked back.”