Memories and Musings

This morning when the hospice nurse came, she was surprised to see Jeff's vitals good and his breathing better. She then told us it could take up to 2 weeks for his body to shut down. This brought up some interesting emotions because as much as I love my husband and have felt it an honor to serve him in this capacity, I think we are all anxious for him to move foward. I will not push him in any way, but I wondered what he was holding on to.

In my musings, I had 2 memories surface that helped me understand a little bit about what is happening with him. The first was when he was 19 years old. He had joined the LDS church when he was 17 and determined at that time that he wanted to serve a full time mission. He knew it would be hard to leave his family and his girlfriend (me) behind. But the gospel of Jesus Christ had such a profound effect on him and he loved it so much that he wanted to share what he knew to be true with others. He was thrilled to be called to serve in El Salvador.

The day he was supposed to leave for his mission, I went with his family to send him off, but that airport was fogged in and all flights to Salt Lake were cancelled for the day. He was told to come back in the afternoon. So we once again prepared to say our farewells. When we got there in the afternoon the air was clear, but the connecting flight coming in from Seattle was delayed and by the time it got to Spokane, the fog had rolled in and the plane never landed. One more time we were sent away and told to try again. The next day we tried for the 3rd time to get him on a plane so he could start his mission. This time the airport in Spokane was just fine, but Salt Lake was socked in and they were not letting anyone on planes heading there. This was a final straw for Jeff. He knew how much his leaving was hurting us, but he had been called by the Lord and felt at the very core of his being that he needed to answer that call. So he got a bus schedule and within an hour was on a very long bus journey. The look on his face through the bus window haunted me. There was so much excitement about his new adventure, but so much sadness and concern about what he was leaving behind. He put his trust in the Lord and his family in God's hands and just forged onward. He returned with honor two years later, with wonderful memories of service and love. The reunion with his loved ones was filled with joy.

The other memory that surfaced today was a very sad memory. I share this on the blog so that those who are reading it will have a deeper understanding of who this man is that I honor and respect so much.

The following is an excerpt from a book I wrote several years ago concerning some of the challenges we have had in our lives. This particular event took place when we had been married about 8 years. Jeff had finally opened up to me and told me that he struggled with some very serious issues and needed some time away from the family to sort things out. This is how I wrote about the following day.

While I was talking on the phone, Jeff went in and got some things together. It was when he came out with his bag packed that I lost it. Arguing, yelling, or contention of any kind was something I deplored. As a result, we didn’t fight like other couples I knew. Most of the time when we did get upset with each other, we handled it with silence rather than yelling. In my naivety, I had perceived this as a sign of a strong marriage rather than one in trouble.
What took over my body at this time was totally foreign to me. It was as if a frenzied animal was let loose and I vented all the hurt and suppressed anger of a lifetime on my husband. I don’t remember what I said; I only know that it was vicious and ugly. I wanted to kill him, literally. I wanted to rip out every strand of his precious hair. I wanted to make him feel pain to match mine. The sad thing is, he probably would have let me. He had been beating himself up for years, and probably felt like he deserved whatever I said to him, so he didn’t even try to defend himself. Nor did he refute any of the ugliness I was hurtling at him.

I don’t know how far my rage would have taken me if I hadn’t seen my three-year-old daughter standing in the hall, shrinking in terror as she witnessed this uncommon exchange between her mommy and daddy. I got control of myself only because my nurturing instincts were stronger than my desire to inflict more pain.
“Mommy, why are you so angry?” she asked.
At that point, Jeff picked her up and put her on his lap to comfort her. She was the ultimate snuggler and adored any time she had with her daddy. They had such a sweet relationship. It tore me up inside to realize how much they both would lose if our family disintegrated.
“Daddy made some mistakes,” Jeff told her. “It’s okay for mommy to be mad. She’s not mad at you.” As Emily relaxed a bit and snuggled deeper into his arms, I told him I had decided to go home for a while. I needed time . . . Time to figure out what was best for me to do, what I wanted in life, and what my priorities were. He said that was probably a good idea. There was nothing else to say so we just sat there in suffocating silence. The revelations of the past and the uncertainty of the future left us in a very precarious situation. With our foundation so damaged, I was afraid one wrong move would be the final catalyst that would destroy it all.
Our uneasy silence was broken when our 7-year-old son, burst into the house for lunch. We lived down the block from the school and on occasion I gave him permission to come home rather than eat at school. He was thrilled to see his daddy awake and ran and jumped on him, as was their usual custom. But he sensed immediately that daddy was not in a playful mood so he protectively withdrew.
He sat down and ate his lunch in the heavy silence, not sure whether to eat quickly and escape back to school, or to dawdle so that he could hang onto the precious time he had with his father. Finally I urged him to hurry, mostly so my own agony would not be prolonged. I told him to tell Jeff good-bye because we probably wouldn’t see him again before we left for Grandma’s house. Dutifully, he went and gave his daddy a hug. Jeff clung to him and tried to hold back the tears. But they could not be stemmed as thoughts of his innocent young son gave way to the torrent of anguish he was feeling. Seth had never seen his daddy cry like this before and he took on the comforting role. Of course in his mind, he thought we were only going for a week, so he told Jeff not too miss us too much, we would be back soon.
As I stood in the background witnessing the interchange between father and son, I wasn’t sure who the grownup was. My heart ached for them both. For Jeff, whose own desperate needs had led him to choices with consequences that could devastate his entire family. And for Seth, who was going to have part of his own precious childhood torn away from him when he realized that his unspoken fears of losing his dad were going to become a reality. I knew that he had felt something was wrong for a long time but had not had the words to voice his fears. As the oldest child, his role was going to change dramatically. I was afraid for him.
The pain was so intense I almost cried, “No, we won’t go, you need us too much. We can work this out.” But I couldn’t do that to my husband, or to myself. We both had to have time away from each other to get a clearer perspective. I gently broke them apart and shooed Seth back to school. I asked him if he wanted me to walk back with him. He declined the offer and assured me he would be fine on his own. But his eyes reflected a deep sadness that was starting to surface. I watched out the window as he slowly made his way down the street, stopping several times to look back as if to somehow freeze-frame happy childhood memories.
When I turned away from the retreating figure of my sad, frightened little boy, another heart-wrenching scene crushed my heart. Jeff was playing with 15-month-old Jason, too young to know that this day would possibly alter his life forever. They were wrestling on the floor and Jason was squealing with delight as his daddy gave him raspberries on his tummy. After witnessing my rage, Emily had been quiet, clinging first to me, then to Jeff. She also had sensed something was very, very wrong, but was too young to know how to express what she felt. Most of the time she had just wanted to be near us, but had gone off on her own when Seth had left. Now she heard the laughter and with great relief had come running to join in the fun.
Always before, the sound of my children’s giggles while playing with their daddy had been a balm of comfort to my heart, a sweet reassurance of the joy of family unity. But now their peals of laughter only made the pain more intense. What if my husband chose the lifestyle that beckoned him? Would Jason even have any memories of his father? Would Emily’s memories of her snuggling companion fade into haunting vagueness? I knew that if he left us, he would do what he could to support his family financially, but I did not know if I would want to be subject to hurt over and over again. Nor was I sure I would want my children exposed to something that was so contrary to what I believed. But if we divorced, how could I keep my children away from someone they loved so much? I could tell that Jeff had many of these same thoughts, because those inner conflicts that had been so private had risen to the surface and were mirrored on his face in spite of the game he was playing with his children. It was agony to watch.
Finally, they tired of the game and he just held his two youngest children close to him. They both snuggled deep in the warmth of his strength. Our other daughter, Charla, was in all-day kindergarten and wouldn’t be home until later. I couldn’t stand dragging this out any longer so finally I just asked him to go.
This was the saddest day of my life. I had no idea what the future held and I was so afraid. I could not understand how anyone could choose to give up something as sweet, pure, and rewarding as the love that our children so freely gave in order to pursue something that to my understanding was evil, ugly, and degrading. The enormity of his struggle was beyond any comprehension.
Before Jeff left, he came to me and held me with a tenderness that I had not felt in a very long time. As we clung to each other, I could feel his internal battle. I was losing him, and I knew it. There were no words that could shield us from the intensity of the pain, or the terror of what might lie in the future. The hopelessness of it all settled around me like a coffin blanket.
“I’m sorry,” he tried to say. But saying sorry could not change the situation. Finally, he dragged himself away with a promise to call to make sure that we got to Spokane okay. Once again, I watched out the window at a retreating figure. The slow, reluctant shuffle was the same as his son’s, as was the one last furtive look. I wondered if there were happy memories he could freeze-frame to pull out in times of loneliness to warm his chilling heart.

When this memory came to my mind this afternoon, I understood a little bit more about Jeff's reluctance to once again leave the family he loves so much behind. The truth is, 15 years ago, we were separated for about 6 months. But then we both made a commitment to somehow save our marriage and our family. It took many years of struggle, but we have now been married 27 years. There is nothing but gratitude for the journey and experiences we have had. for they led us both to learn how to access the enabling power of the atonement of Jesus Christ so that our hearts could heal. It is because of the experiences of the past that we have learned the lessons of unconditional love, forgiveness, and charity that gives us the strength to face this current challenge.

So tonight Jeff is once again facing a new adventure by himself, but he is not really alone. I have no doubt that there is a big welcome home party waiting for him as soon as he lets himself move forward. I also believe that there will be a joyful reunion with his sweet daughter (I have to admit I am a little jealous about that one). But I know that there will come a time when there will be other reunions. Oh, how I look forward to that day. But for now, I am just trying to get the message through to Jeff that it's ok for him to move forward. We will miss him, but there is only love and gratitude for the choices he made that kept our family together. How we honor him for those decisions. And we now honor his decision to go home a little earlier than the rest of us. I have told him I expect him to have an awesome mansion built for me when I come to join him....many, many, many years from now.

Thanks for letting me share these memories and musings. Perhaps it will help you understand us a little better.

Chris