I didn't sleep much that night. Maybe a few minutes here and there. Full of shock, denial, and heartbreak. How could this be reality? I tossed and turned and prayed for some kind of peace. Some kind of solace. And then the lyrics to "It Is Well with My Soul" raced through my mind.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well
with my soul
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come
Let this blest assurance control
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And hath shed his own blood for my soul.
It is well (it is well)
With my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious though
My sin, not in part, but the whole
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul!
It is well (it is well)
with my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul
It is well (it is well)
with my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul!
I could imagine my dad loudly and happily singing this song. If you know my dad, you know he LOVES to sing. I was comforted to think of this scene in heaven.
I woke that morning, packed my bags, and caught a flight to Arizona to be with my family. As I was trying to pack for this unexpected trip I stood in my closet frozen at the thought that I would need to pack something to wear to my dad's funeral. I knew immediately that I didn't want to wear black . . . but I didn't know what I wanted to wear. I texted my sweet friend, Rachel, and said I couldn't think straight and didn't know what to pack or wear. She asked if he had a favorite color. I said, he loves BYU football - BYU blue would be perfect.
I arrived at the airport in a daze. Watching all these people going about their day and lives like everything was normal. When nothing was normal. Everything was completely different. I struggled to keep from crying in public and was grateful that the people seated next to me didn't seem interested in conversation.
My sweet sister in law, Amber, picked me up from the airport. We embraced and cried and talked about our experiences over the past 18 hours. Still in complete shock. She took me to my parents' home where my mom and sister, Audrey, had just finished talking with the bishop of my parents' ward about planning the funeral. How was this real? We all hugged and cried and talked and cried and sat in silence and cried.
Mom got a message from the mortuary about setting an appointment to go over everything. She asked if we could do a viewing on Thursday or Friday and a graveside Friday or Saturday. The woman kept saying, "I don't have access to calendars - those dates and times may work, but you have to talk to Miguel." Throughout the day Audrey, Amber and I each tried to get in touch with Miguel but were all told the soonest he could talk to us was Monday morning.
We were frustrated but trusted that they would be handling everything and we decided to go ahead and schedule the memorial for Friday, June 7th - no matter what. My boys were going to be leaving for a 2 week service trip to Peru on Saturday and it was very important to me that they be able to come to the funeral, be with family, and say goodbye to their Papa.
