Hello 2013

Goodbye 2012.  You were a good year.   We spent time with family in Virginia, and San Diego, and Utah.  We married off College Daughter, and renamed her Married Daughter.  We saw prosperity, and some sadness, but all in all you were a good year. 

On Sunday Cool Dad and I were asked to speak in church.  The topic, New Year’s Resolutions.  I was somewhat surprised, mostly because I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions, but I accepted the challenge and started looking for material.  I found a talk by President Uchtdorf from October that talked about a nurse who worked with terminally ill patients, and what they wished they had done differently in their lives.   They had three main regrets, they wished they had spent more time with the people they loved, they wished they had lived up to their full potential, they wished they had let themselves be happier. 

Needless to say, I have been thinking all week about these regrets/wishes, probably brought on even more by the fact that Alzheimer’s has taken my Dad’s memories.   He is no longer the Dad I grew up with.  He will not ever come out of the nursing home.  I won’t ever know if he has regrets.  Rather than worry about that, I would rather list my memories of him. 

I remember always wanting to be outside working with him.  I couldn’t have been more than four; we built a retaining wall next to our house.

I remember at 8 years old Dad would put the 1972 Ford truck in gear and it would move forward as I steered and he would throw the hay bales in the back.

I remember Dad teaching me how to drive the riding lawn mower. 

I remember traveling all over Idaho in our camper following my brother’s baseball games all summer. 

I remember driving to Sun Valley, for the day, just to eat at Louie’s.

I remember meeting my Dad at 12:05 on the road from town.  Not my favorite memory, you did not want to miss curfew at our house. 

I remember my Dad handing out huge burlap sacks of potatoes to all of the widows in the neighborhood.

I remember my Dad walking the floor many a night with Married Daughter.  She was one colicky baby.

I remember my Dad taking a three year old to the mall for a pretzel because she asked with that cute little smile. 

I remember my Dad telling Cool Dad “good luck” when he said he wanted to marry me. 

I remember my Dad caring for my mom with some amazing nursing skills after her bone marrow transplant.

I remember sleeping in the car in Baker, CA (twice) because Dad needed a rest, and he wouldn’t let any of the other licensed drivers actually take the wheel. 

I remember my Dad telling me about how he had to ski for his job when we lived in Lake Tahoe, CA, and wishing he would ski with me, just once.

 I remember that my Dad drove on the Santa Monica Pier, and no, cars are not allowed there. 

I remember moving hand lines at 5am with my Dad.

I remember my Dad letting me name the horses, and yes, we did have horses named Scamper and Spike. 

I remember my Dad hauling my 4-H sheep all over the place.

I remember calling my Dad George (his given name, but not the name he went by) when we wanted to harass him. 

I remember my Dad crying when his new little puppy, Gunda, was accidentally run over. 

I remember that my Dad told me that he loved me all of the time, and even though he doesn’t know who I am anymore, when I tell him that I love him he says it back. 

With the start of 2013, I do want to make a resolution.  I want to be a mom that documents the comings and goings, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  I don’t want my kids to wonder about their memories.  I want to be able to pull out a book and let them read all about them.   I want them to know that through it all we were a family, and I want them to know that I loved being their mom.