Forgetting

Dad loved to wear a Santa Hat during Christmas

The thing I fear most is forgetting. Particularly forgetting what it felt like to hug my Dad, or have him place his hands on my head. I'm afraid of forgetting his voice calling me, "Goose" or making up songs and singing them as we drive or clean.

Sometimes I wonder why it's so easy to forget the good things of life. The happy memories and feelings. And yet so hard to forget pain, heartache and anguish.

I don't really have an answer to that. But I miss my Dad. I'm afraid I'm forgetting

There are two places I go where I feel like I can talk to my Dad again; both mountains. The literal mountains and the mountain of the Lord- temples.
It wasn't long after my Dad passed away that the fear of forgetting him started to swell up inside me.  I wasn't afraid that I'd forget that he lived or that he was my Dad, but that I would forget the tiny things- the quirks, the sayings, the expressions, the looks that made up my Dad.  It wouldn't be something that happened consciously, but more of a slow slip from my memory that I wouldn't know was happening until it was too late.

My friend Emily sent me a text message after she heard about my Dad's passing.  She had lost her Dad suddenly 2 years earlier.  I expressed my fear of forgetting... especially forgetting what he sounds like.  I still am.  In fact, I haven't heard his voice since December 27, 2011.  I miss it.

The Monday after my Dad passed away I went for a hike.  Hiking is therapy for me.  I escape a little bit from the busyness that surrounds typical life, and just get to enjoy the natural beauty of this earth, ponder, meditate and pray all while hiking.  Sometimes I stop and do it.  Other times I have an ongoing conversation with Heavenly Father as I walk.  That day I expressed my fear of forgetting my Dad.  I expressed how worried I was that my future family wouldn't get to know him in this life.  They won't know what it is like to be hugged my him, to sit on his lap, to hear him pray over them, to hear him sing songs he made up.  I mourn over those losses.  So as I hiked I wanted some inspiration of how to remember my Dad, how to carry his legacy on, and how to honor him and the people, places and things he loved in this world.

3 things came into my thoughts...

1. Keep his shirts and make a blanket out of them.  When I wanted a hug from my Dad I could wrap myself up and be surrounded by him.  I decided to also give my siblings something.  I didn't have enough to make them all quilts so I made them pillow cases and gave it to them on Father's Day this year.

2. Start a yearly David Smith Memorial Uinta trip.  My Dad went hiking in the Uinta's each summer starting with the boyscouts in Oak City.  Those trips are the stuff legends are made of. 

3.  Hike the whole Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).  When we lived in California my Dad set the ambitious goal of hiking the PCT.  It runs from the Mexican to the Canadian Boarder.  Every now and then he'd go hike for a few days doing a section at a time.  Usually he took my brother Rob.  Once I got to go.  I've been fascinated by the idea of hiking it for a long time.  In fact, when my Dad came to Washington to move me back to Utah last year, I mentioned I just might go hike the trail.  Worried for my safety, he advised against it at the time.  But if I can rope people to do portions of it with me each year, I think he would approve.

These pieces of inspiration have brought me much comfort over the last 6 months since his passing.  I know these won't satisfy all my fears.  But I think that by actively participating in the activities he loved to do, I can honor and remember him.

Nothing brings me more comfort and satisfaction than seeing that my nephews still remember Grandpa David.  A few days ago I was browsing through some pictures, when my nephews saw a picture and exclaimed, "Hey, that's Grandpa David!"  They often ask me to show them pictures of him.  I loved going to Dad's grave and seeing notes about Grandpa David left there by my two oldest nephews. 

I also love to tell them things about Grandpa.  On the way up to camp this last weekend, Andy asked my nephew Danny if he knew why we were driving all this way to go camping.  Andy then explained that this was Grandpa's favorite place to come.  The next day I said something about how Grandpa loved it up here, and turned to Danny and said, "Did you know that."  "Yep, you and Dad told me that in the car."  I hope they continue to remember Grandpa, and share those memories with me too!