Peace and love to you all.

I hope you are all doing well. I know it's been a little while, but there hasn't been much to report as of late. We're all just...living, for whatever that means these days.

This week was rough and, if the Internet is to be believed (which is not usually the case but still), it was rough for everyone. This week, it's been five months since Dad passed and also a full year since my Grandma Jane passed. So, as you can imagine, it was a bit difficult for my mom, but she is strong and continues to push forward. 

In that moving forward in life, though, we tend to forget about others. Sometimes we're okay. Sometimes we're not okay. And sometimes you are either okay or not okay as well. We're going to try to be better about reaching out, but please feel free to do the same! Even just a text or a comment saying that you're thinking about us can brighten our days. Let us know what is going on in your lives, too! We're interested in your lives. It's just...tough to reach out when we are so mired in our own thoughts and feelings. It's natural and normal for everyone to go about their lives, but I think we all need each other more than ever right now. We have the three of us but that can be isolating at times.

I'm also going to try to be better about updating this blog. I know you all miss Dad, just like we do, and you want those stories and thoughts and prayers to uplift you as well. I haven't felt much like being uplifting recently, but maybe that's something I can change as well.

We love you all and hope that you know it.

I'll leave you with this quote and I hope it helps you.

Life is like an ice-cream cone, you have to lick it one day at a time.
Charles M. Schulz

Peace and love to you all.

My sincere apologies for the time between posts. It's not intentional but this last month has been a particularly rough one for our family. Starting with the anniversary on the 13th of June, then followed a week later by Father's Day, and then the Fourth of July, it was less of a month of celebration and more of an emotional crucible we had to endure. Going through these days that gave my dad so much joy and knowing how much he would have loved them was difficult, to say the least.

Father's Day...well, we had plans to do things to honor him. Cooking a prime rib roast. Doing Legos at the table. Watching his favorite movies. Things like that. We didn't do any of them. We couldn't. Even pulling the roast out of the freezer was tough for me. So, instead, we just cooked steaks and tried to get through it. 

The Fourth of July was also a struggle. It was always my dad's favorite holiday (aside from Christmas) and he would watch the fireworks on TV and outside, cook steaks and corn on the cob, watch 1776 on DVD, listen to patriotic music, and just feel an immense amount of pride and patriotism. He truly loved this country and it hurt to know that he couldn't celebrate it anymore. But we did the steaks, we did the corn, and we tried our best to be cheerful.

Now, thankfully, there aren't any holidays for a while. The next big event is my birthday and holy COW I am not going to think about that one right now. 

We're okay. We're not great. We're not what I would call thriving. But we are here and we love each other and we love our cats and we are making it through the days and even sometimes finding things to laugh about. We hug and make food and watch things on TV/movies and we just...live. It's not the same. It won't be the same. And it doesn't feel as much like living used to. But we're here and that may be enough.

I hope you all are living your best lives and are loving those close to you with all your hearts. I'll leave you with an apt quote.

​"Grief is the price we pay for love."
Queen Elizabeth II

Peace and love to you all.

On June 13th, 1981, my mother and father were wed in a small, simple ceremony in Grafton, North Dakota. It was a Saturday morning and rainy as all get out. My dad worn a morning coat and apparently looked quite dashing. The Texas family made it all the way up to North Dakota for the wedding but one of my mom's bridesmaids did not, which bumped someone down to usher rather than groomsman. They were frugal and made much of their own paraphernalia, like banners and placecards and all that. 

After a luncheon following the service, they went up to Grandpa and Grandma Thompson (my mom's parents)'s farm and had yet more food because it's North Dakota and one thing that is basically universal when you live here is that if there is a gathering, there will be food and no you do not get to opt out of joining in. Once that was done, they hopped in their blue Honda Civic - which had been so 'nicely' decorated all over with shaving cream - and headed up to Canada. Upon reaching the town of Pembena, ND, the weather was so bad and raining so much that they had to stop to clean off the car because the 'helpful' shaving cream was smearing so badly that they couldn't see.

That night, they arrived in Winnipeg and stayed the night then, the next morning, they hopped on a flight to Quebec and spent their honeymoon at the Hotel Frontenac. From there, we are given such stories as my mother saving the baby corn that came with their prime rib dinner because she had never seen it and it was small and cute and my father leaving his brand-new robe hanging on the hook behind the door in their hotel room as they went off to start their new life together.

Today would have been 41 years together. It is heartbreaking that they have to spend this day apart from now on until God calls my mother home to Him. Which had better not be soon because I'm not dealing with that.

Death takes from us so much - including the future - but it can never take our memories from us. Those memories are ours to hold and to cherish for as long as we like. 

May you have memories of your own that you hold dear and think upon them today.

​Thanks be to God. 

Peace and love to you all.

If any of you have loved ones who gave their lives for our country, please remember them today and how much they meant to you. 

My family is also using today to remember my dad. Though he never served in the military, he moved around a lot as the son of an Air Force officer. He always spoke with pride about the service my Grandpa Roger gave and regaled us with stories of the different bases on which he and his siblings lived. Living that life was always something he looked back on fondly.

We're trying to do the same for him this weekend. We grilled steaks and smoked pulled pork. We drank wine and went for walks in the beautiful weather. We did the things that we wish we could still do with him, even though that's no longer possible.

It's hard. It's been a day of tears, especially for my mom, as she goes through his drawers and puts things away. But it's a necessary process. So, there will be tears and laughter and we will continue to be here. 

All we can hope is that the friggin' hail doesn't hurt the red car this evening. 

I'll leave you today with my hope and fondest wish that you think back in happiness on those you have lost. As long as we remember them, they are never truly gone. 

​Thanks be to God. 

Peace and love to you all.

Apologies yet again for the time between posts, but we have been doing what we can to live our lives. The weather has finally gotten nicer - after far, far too long a winter - so we have been spending more time outside doing different things. Activities like getting flowers with Mom (a task that Dad once managed that has now fallen to me), smoking meats (we have thus far done a couple of chickens and a fantastic pork belly), and simply cleaning up around the yard and enjoying the sun and cool breeze have been on the menu for once. At times, we may even laugh and joke around and all of that. Moments of joy.

There are other moments as well, of course. Yesterday, our Siamese cat Thor got a burn in his saddle, so to speak, and was running around the house, begging for attention. When I tried to pet him, he ran away and baited me further - a common game for our cats - before running into the office. I followed him and watched him walk around the chair there and it felt like a punch in the gut. See, the office is where Dad used to spend the majority of his time, either when he was working or when he was retired, and the cats winding around his legs was commonplace, especially when I would go upstairs to check in and see what was going on with him. Those conversations could be quick or could last a little while as we talked about whatever came to mind. Those little chats became a regular part of my life and something that I was used to experiencing. And now...well, I will not have one of those chats ever again. 

It took the wind out of my sails, to be completely honest. That he is gone still doesn't quite seem real sometimes and that unreality can help with simply making it through the days. So, then, when a blunt force reminder hits you, it can be staggering. I know Mom and Adam are dealing with those as well. 

Yet, we're here. We're together. I recently made a career-related decision that keeps me here and together with them for now and I don't regret it. We're taking it by the day and trying to find those moments of joy and happiness and peace in the middle of Everything Else.

I'll leave you today with a verse and the hope that the moments of happiness come for you and for us like rain in springtime.

Isaiah 61:3
​
"To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified."

Peace and love to you all.

It's been a couple of weeks since I last wrote, I know, but truth be told, there's not a lot going on right now. We're working, we're eating relatively healthily, and we're simply surviving. Notice I didn't say 'living' because, frankly, right now it doesn't feel like we are. We go about our day to day lives with relative normalcy, but there is a hole that is never going to be filled and we are having to figure out how to maneuver around it simply to get through the day sometimes. We've packed some things away. Clothes and the like. It's too tough to look at sometimes. We haven't gotten a lot further than that, but it's something. 

We're all just tired. Tired of things coming up. The aftermath from Dad's passing and subsequent gnarls of bureaucracy we've had to try to untangle. Car issues. Private medical concerns. The weather being gray and gross and rainy and the kind of dreary that just sucks the life out of your bones to the point you only want to stay inside, curl up in a blanket, and forget that the world exists for a while. 

I made the joke a couple of days ago that I wondered if we had upset some sacred burial ground or something recently, given the extreme spate of unpleasantness we've gone through over the past two months, but it's of course just that: a joke. We aren't being punished. We aren't being tormented. It's simply life being life and having to deal with all of it. That does not, however, mean it does not suck.

Where does that leave us? Well, I'm going to try to get back to doing this more often, but I make no promises. What I can say, at least for myself, is this: I am ready to see some light in our lives. 

I'll leave you with a Bible verse and the hope that May brings that light to us.

Psalm 18:28
​For it is you who light my lamp; the Lord my God lightens my darkness.

Peace and love to you all.

Though we are having a bit of a tough day with the first Easter minus my dad, we have many, many fond memories to look back on to fill the day with color. Specifically, hunting Easter eggs.

For decades - and I mean that literally - Mom and Dad would 'contact the Easter Bunny' after church as my brother and I were forced to stay downstairs and watch TV as the bunny worked his magic. At a certain point, we would be called upstairs and view what had transpired. First, we saw our Easter baskets, stuffed with chocolate and things of that nature. They were the focal point. Then, though, we surveyed the upstairs rooms and saw splashes of color dotting many surfaces. Plastic Easter eggs, loaded with little treats as well, had taken over the house. My brother and I were bidden to divide the house in half (in order to avoid fighting...it was a necessary precaution) and begin tossing what eggs we found into a plastic bag we carried. From there, the search was on. Eggs would be behind pillows on the couch, on top of paintings or doorframes, jammed into plants or crocks, hidden behind toys or antiques, or just generally obscured from view. We hunted for as long as we could, spurred on by Dad's constant taunting of 'I can see three eggs from here' or 'Are you sure you have them all?'. Eventually, we called it good, went to the table, and began to unload our bounties. Jellybeans and M&Ms and Reese's Cups and malted milk eggs galore filled our plastic bags with treasure to last...well, theoretically days, but let's be honest, hours at best. 

While that was that, by and large, there was always the second part of the hunt. Weeks, even months later, we could and did come across an errant egg that had been passed over in our searches, often in places that realistically did not provide a fair shot at finding them. We would laugh and celebrate our increased victories, but always sat with the knowledge that there still could be more out there.

Perhaps that's something we can take away from the day. That even if you feel that you have found God, that you have created a place in your life that perfectly fits what you believe your faith to be...maybe there is always more out there to find. Maybe there is always more that God wants from you. Maybe all it takes is time to find it. Like a Hershey's Kiss found in July, maybe you will find renewed faith or purpose at a time where you don't expect it. Wouldn't that be a treat?

May you all have a wonderful Easter full of love and family and the knowledge that Jesus Christ has risen again, and he has washed away our sins again and again through his sacrifice of blood and redemption!

I'll leave you today with a wonderful verse:

“I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” — John 11:25-26

Peace and love to you all.

I'm going to be upfront and honest with you, as I feel that is what you all deserve. We are not doing particularly well. We're all tired. We're all ground down. We all feel like we're in a rut. It has been a month already since Dad's passing, but it has felt like a decade. The weather has not helped and will continue to not help as more dang snow is scheduled for this week. We're all simply over it all.

The way it feels to me is like we are on a boat that has slipped the line and is drifting off into the great unknown. Worse, it feels as if nobody has noticed that we are floating away, which is not a fair assessment. We have and continue to be blessed by love and support from everyone, but you have your own lives too! You have your own work and own families and own daily grind to get through and need to focus on that first. All the same, it feels like we are simply drifting without a way to go.

It's hard. It is. When the shock of the moment and the speed of the following necessities have worn off, you feel the knowledge of what reality is sink in finally. It's like a hole inside you, but the hole has ragged edges, so every time you try to do something, one of the edges catches and hurts. Maybe it's walking into the office and seeing the Legos he was so proud of sitting on the desk. Maybe it's looking into the kitchen nook and knowing there aren't going to be puzzles there for a while, if ever again. Little things. Little memories. They catch and hurt and hurt and hurt.

I don't mean to sound melodramatic. We find joy in our lives too. Every night, we talk about what was good about the day and we always, always find something, even if it's little. We have lots of hugs and jokes and we heal bit by bit. We just...know that what is missing will always be missing. It will never not be missing again. And that stings in a way that is not possible to describe. 

In moments like this, Dad would also say 'let go and let God' and we are trying to abide by that. We are remaining faithful and praying for healing and comfort. It is slow-going, but we remain steadfast in our belief that God will get us through it, even if there's anger and questioning. We will endure with God on our side. Even if it feels like we're adrift.

I'll leave you today with an appropriate Psalm.
​Psalm 25:16-17 
Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted. Relieve the troubles of my heart and free me from my anguish.

Peace and love to you all.

There's not a ton going on right now, to be honest. There are tough days and tough nights and calm days and nights as well. Different things trigger different memories and thoughts and we are just taking them as they come. I know that updates have become sparser and that will get better, I promise. It's just...we're tired. All of us. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Even now, we're tired. 

Tired and stuck. We want to move forward. We're trying to move forward. And there are times where we feel like we are, but it's kind of like trying to get a car moving after it's been stuck in mud (or deep snow). You find little moments of success but, overall, you're where you have been. 

That feeling reminds me of a story. When my brother and I were little and still living in Fargo (the first time), our family took a trip across the state to Medora. If you don't know what that is, let me explain. It's a cute little tourist trap in western North Dakota with a huge Wild West musical and Teddy Roosevelt exhibits and everything. It's cheesy but I remember the trip fondly. Mostly. 

See, because my brother and I were little, we needed to use the restroom frequently and found ourselves needing to avail ourselves of the facilities at a nearby gas station. It was not a high-quality station, to say the least, and the room was small and cramped but ultimately functional. We did our business and went to leave. Here's where we made a mistake. We had been taught practically since we were able to understand directions to shut off the light as you leave a room. (Note: this lesson has been soundly lost in our older age).

We did so and tried to open the door. It did not open. We tried again. No luck. A few more attempts and that creeping, crawling dread settled in our tiny stomachs. We were stuck. Not only that, we were stuck in a pitch-black room with no way to know where the light switch was. That was when panic ensued.

We started screaming and crying and banging on the door, hoping that someone would hear us. It felt like an eternity before we felt the door shift and get yanked open with tremendous force. We rushed out and into our parents' arms as they tried to calm us down. It was miserable and terrifying but a quick trip to the nearby dinosaur museum and a little plastic velociraptor later, I was right as rain. 

That feeling of being trapped, stuck, helpless, and in the dark...that's where we are now. We are stuck in that room, banging on the door, crying out for God to help us. And He is coming. The door is shifting just a little. We won't be free and in His arms quite yet, but we're getting there. We have those moments of hope and light peering into the darkness to keep us going. We have to be patient, something that is not a strength of my family. But we know and continue to know that God will open that door and embrace us again.

I'll leave you with a saying that spoke to me.
I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars.
Og Mandino

Peace and love to you all.

My apologies for the several days between posts. It's been challenging to find the time or motivation as we adjust to life as a trio rather than a quartet. Little things like figuring out taxes, changing accounts over from Dad to Mom, and the almost-literal mountain of thank-yous we need to send out have consumed a lot of our time, to say nothing of actually going back to work.

It's been difficult, I won't lie. Trying to get back to a sort of routine is tough when part of that routine just isn't here anymore. I still - and will for a while - find myself going upstairs to share something fun with Dad only to realize he's not sitting in his office and won't be again. Mom has gotten back to work and driven herself rather than have Dad drive her every day. Little things remind us of where we are at now.

All this is to say that we are hanging in there. We aren't necessarily thriving, but we're laughing and hugging and cooking (an EXCELLENT pan-roasted duck last night, if I can toot my own horn) and simply living. However, you are all hurting too and I know that the stories about my dad can help you as well as us, so I will try to be more diligent about maintaining a schedule.

I'll leave you today with a quote that seems to fit nicely.

"There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief."
Aeschylus