Papa dear, we love and miss you so!

The last time I posted an entry, um...forever ago, I updated our family adventures up through the middle of March. It was shortly after that time frame (towards the end of March), that the biggest news from March occurred. Not that it was unexpected, nor that we were unprepared for it, but our feelings regarding this occurrence are still somewhat tender at times (especially mine) so writing this post has been one I've avoided for a very long time, mostly because when I sit down to type it out I can't see the keyboard through the tears that well up in my eyes!! Since I am in good spirits and in control of the tears today I thought I'd give writing out what's been in my heart and mind for sometime now a try.

After a long three-year battle with cancer and one week shy of what would have been his 78th birthday, my dear Dad passed away. 

I'm grateful for the wonderful man that my dad was, and for the good, long life he was able to live. I will not remember him as the man that he was close to the end of his life--frail, his once strong frame ravaged by the cancer that ate him away--but rather I will remember him as my "Papa", one of my best friends in this life!

Papa was a very loving man who managed to make friends everywhere he went. I learned a great deal from him, much of which has made me the person I am today. Some of the things that come to mind at the moment: my love of swimming, a deep loyalty for his (and my) alma mater BYU, a constant yearning to return home to be close to loved ones, and a love of music. Though I didn't inherit his talent for whistling, whenever I hear someone whistling, or certain songs that he would often whistle ("Never on a Sunday" was one of his FAVORITES!), I always think of my dad.

If you ever met my Papa, you know he was a very jovial guy, quite the jokester if you will. Apparently it's something that runs in his family because both his brothers are quite funny and somewhat mischievous guys (as are many of my Dad's nephews)! Sometimes my own Li'l J will get a certain look in his eye and I will instantly think of my dad and his brothers, and think what a time they must have given my grandma when they were little! Guess it's fitting that Li'l J carries my dad's middle name as his own. : )

Many of you know that I don't believe in "coincidences" but rather that everything happens with and for a purpose.  With that in mind, I have no doubt there were many reasons why things fell into place so smoothly for our little family to move cross-country when we did.  Being closer to both our families has proven to be a very big blessing!  Even though we sometimes we find ourselves wishing that we lived closer still to our families, we are SO very grateful our children have had many more opportunities here than we did when living on the other side of the country to see, visit, and get-to-know their grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even great-grandparents!

It was two months after our big move, and one month after we had settled into our house that we received news of my dad's cancer diagnosis.  I can remember being up top on the ladder taping off and painting our family room when my mom called to tell me.  It was shortly after that, that we made the trip out to see Papa for his birthday and then again for me to spend a week with my family and to spend some time with Papa while he was in the hospital recovering from his initial surgery.  Had we still been on the other side of the country when Papa first became ill or had we remained there over the last three years, M, Li'l J, and even C-sta would have missed out on having as much time as they did with their Papa Mijo. I am grateful for the time we had with Papa and for the family ties that bind us together and look forward to the day that we will all be together again!

~

When I asked our boys if they have any special memories about their Grandpa, Li'l J said what he will remember most about Grandpa Mijo is that "he always talked to me about playing soccer." M shared this from his journal:

"My favorite memory of Grandpa Mijo is when he was a witness for my baptism.  It was also his birthday. He watched me as I was baptized. I will always remember my Grandpa Mijo."

Here are a couple memories about our Dad that my oldest sister D shared with me the other day that I thought were good examples of who he was:

"Something funny happened the other day. Every week when Dad use to visit, he would make salsa. As soon as he got here he started cooking. Even after was sick he kept coming to visit, and would cook. We would always have to make a trip to the grocery store since I never had the ingredients he liked to use. We loved his salsa. He made the BEST salsa we ever tasted! We miss that and his green chicken. He tried to teach me but I forgot how. The only recipe I remember was the chicken soup. So every time I make it T says, "It smells like Grandpa is here!" Anyway, we were driving the other day and out of the blue T said, "I wonder what Grandpa is doing right now?" I said, "I don't know." There was silence until A said, "I know... He's making salsa!" Then T chimed in, "And he has all the ingredients!" We all laughed!

Another day I was watching television and T walked in front of the TV and stopped there and said "Ohhh my leg!" I yelled for him to move out of the way. T replied, "Mom, don't you remember who use to do that?" Dad used to tease T when he was watching TV and would pretend his leg all of a sudden "gave out", all the while blocking the TV. We all laughed again and remembered Dad."

Oh, and yes, our Dad made the BEST salsa one EVER tasted!!! I have the basic recipe, but can never manage to duplicate the taste or special "flair" he always gave it.

My younger sister A also recently shared some memories of our Dad with me:

About an hour ago as I was outside feeding the dogs, there was something about the way the sun was hitting me as I was standing in my surroundings that made me think of Papa standing out there in his gardening boots. When Papa would feed the dogs, usually around 3 in the afternoon, it would be on his way in from a day of working in the garden. He would greet the doggies, pet them, love them, and talk to them. The only way I can attest to this is because I would sometimes sneak a peek from my bedroom window that looks out onto our porch on the side of the house, (without him seeing or knowing of course).  Papa didn't want people to see him, as what he thought was vulnerable and "unmanly"; he was very curious and unique that way. I loved catching him in those rare unguarded moments and cherish those memories of seeing him so happy and relaxed--something that much of our family, friends, and loved ones didn't get to often see.

Papa had a green thumb, something I always admired and wished I had developed. He had this affinity with nature, almost as if they were good friends. I loved the collage of smells that were on his skin when he came in from the garden: a mix of tomato plant vines, herbs and sweat--that made a distinct smell of his own that cannot be replicated. That may sound odd, but it was something that I looked forward to at the end of the day.

Papa shared a camaraderie with the outdoors that is hard to explain. I'm not sure who loved his routine of gardening more, him or me! I can still picture him with his big straw sun hat, transition lens glasses, blue checkered shirt with remnants of the garden on it, his shirt tucked into his bluish-grey pants, the familiar worn-in brown belt that buckled his pants, and his pants tucked into his black gardening boots that were rimmed at the top with red rubber.

Before entering the house through the laundry room doorway, ever the gentleman, he'd lightly but firmly tap the bottom of his boots to remove the dirt/mud that was encased on the boot tread before he came in the house. There was such a reverence about this daily routine of his, that even his beloved doggies respected it and would watch him with what seemed to be a sense of love and adoration. After tapping his boots he would place them on the brick porch, and there they would stay until the next day...nothing would disturb their peaceful placement, not even the dogs.

The other day while talking to Mama, I was looking at the flowering plants we have sitting on the front porch near the entrance of our house. As I looked at the flowers, a thought instantly came to my mind, "Papa wouldn't like these flowers hiding their beauty away from the sun, he would plant them in back garden!" That was one thing about Papa that I just loved--his tender loving care of all his plants.  If he saw them turning brown or struggling, he didn't give up on them. He would go right to work on making them healthy and happy again, knowing exactly what to do to revive them.  In his hands plants become vibrant, almost as if they were smiling.  There was such a positive energy between Papa and his plants, he handled them with such a gentle spirit...just like he did his own children.  I like to think of him as "the plant doctor".

When Papa worked with his plants, there was an air of reverence about him that made it seem as though nothing could disturb or break the bond of peace he felt during that time. So in remembrance of his love for all plant life and because I wouldn't want him to be disappointed to see the flowers in their current state of disrepair, I've decided I will attempt to replant the flowers currently on our front porch to the backyard garden that was Papa's haven, his place.

~

While I have MANY pictures of Papa, digital and in print, many recent ones that are stored on my computer, as well as many older ones that I hope to one day scan, the one below is one of my favorites.  It was a portrait done when he was in his early twenties, prior to his serving a two-year mission for our church.  In the corner you can see he inscribed it with a message to his dear mother, his infamous BEAUTIFUL signature--he came from a time and place where a lot of emphasis was placed on the lost art of good penmanship, and his cursive was very good!--and the date. 

Since this picture is one of the few I can look at without tears welling up and over, it felt like a natural choice for this post.  There is something about this picture that leaves me with a great sense of peace; maybe because it depicts him as he was long before I knew him, during a time when he looked so youthful and happy and not like he looked throughout his last three years.  When I look at it, I like to think this is what he looks like now...on the other side.

1932-2010

My Dad was known by many names through out his life, but in our family he will always be remembered as: Daddy, Papa, Papito Lindo, Grandpa, or Grandpa Mijo (as our boys call him because he would always refer to them as "Mijo" which is short for "Mi hijo" or "My son", in Spanish).

Papa, each one of us that are left behind: mama, all of us children, grandchildren, siblings and friends remember you, love you dearly and miss you daily! Until we meet again Papa!