I know, I know, it's been months since I've posted. Trust me, I know (it weighs on me, knowing the posts are adding up). There's been birthdays, family reunions, milestones, trips, house stuff, and all sorts of things I've been planning on posting, but right now there is only one thing on my mind - my dad.
My dad passed away last Tuesday, September 14, two days after my parents 47th wedding anniversary, 5 days after having just seen all his siblings, and 9 days after having been back to church for the first time in maybe over a year. Don't get me wrong - my dad had one of strongest testimonies I've ever heard! When he spoke of the Savior, you could hear the love in his voice, and when he spoke of the truthfulness of the gospel, his resolve was undeniable. And he spoke of it often and freely. But due to his declining health in the last few years, he had a difficult time getting to church. He loved church; he loved his ward; he knew of the importance of taking the sacrament; and he missed it. So the fact that he was able to actually get to the church for sacrament meeting just shortly before passing, that he was able to renew his covenants, and that an inspired bishopric member took the opportunity to renew my dad's temple recommend and even extend a calling to him while he was there, really just means so much!
Last Tuesday, I had just put the kids down for a nap. Mattie was asleep and I was staying with CJ until he fell asleep. I heard my phone ring in the kitchen, but CJ wasn't quite asleep, so I let it ring. Half an hour later, I checked my phone - my brother Nathan had called. I had texted him earlier that week with some trivial question and thought maybe he was calling in regards to that. Or maybe something else. But I didn't think I was going to hear, "Mom found Dad unconscious and not breathing. The paramedics were able to restart his heart, but he has not regained consciousness. We're headed to Timpanogos Hospital right now."
I felt my heart start to pound and my breathing get rapid and shallow, but I also knew that we had been through something like this before. In 2008, my dad ended up in the hospital and needed 5-bypass heart surgery. That was scary, but he made it through. So I had no idea the emotional ride I was about to join. I was able to talk to Nathan, who was at the hospital with my mom, for just a few moments. After going to the ER, they were moving my dad to the ICU where, after he was stable, they wanted to do a CAT scan to determine the damage, if any, to his brain. My kids were asleep, Bryce was at work, and I was alone...and I was actually grateful for it. After getting off the phone with Nathan, I dropped to my knees and sobbed, and as I sobbed, I started to pray. I didn't know exactly what to pray for. I didn't feel like I should pray that Dad would make it - after seeing what his life was deteriorating into these last few years, I wasn't sure that's what he would want, or what I wanted. So I prayed that my dad wasn't in pain, and that if it was his time to go, that the Lord would take him quickly and that His Spirit would be there to comfort both my father, who was experiencing something unimaginable, and the rest of my family here on this side of the veil. I also prayed that if it be possible, that I could make it to him before he passed away. I know it sounds cliche, but as I finished that prayer, I felt a calm come over me. And I think it was that calm that got me through the next several hours.
After praying, I spoke to Bryce on the phone who suggested I look at flights out to Utah. I was a little reluctant - my practical side always taking over - thinking that I didn't need to look at flights until I knew more of what was going on. I needed to know how long to pack for, whether or not to pack for our kids, when the funeral would be (if Dad passed away), etc. etc. But Bryce urged me on, saying that even if my Dad didn't pass away, the situation was grave enough that I needed to be there with my family. The next few hours were a blur of text messages, phone calls, laundry, packing, crazy kids, crying, frustration, impatience, anger, and a strange sense of dreaming, like I wasn't really there. We had decided that the kids would stay with Bryce's parents for a couple of days, I would fly to Utah, and Bryce would stay and work until we knew what the situation was. Now that we live 2 1/2 hours from the airport, it wasn't so easy to get out to Utah as quickly as I would have hoped and my only option for that night was a 7:58 PM flight. I could have bought the ticket, but I didn't think I'd be packed in time (and have the kids packed too), and I still hadn't heard about Dad's CAT scan, so I really didn't know how little time I had. And then the phone call came...the results were back from Dad's CAT scan and it showed massive hemorrhaging in his brain and extensive brain damage. So this was it. He wasn't going to wake up. And I had chosen to pick-up around the house and pack clothes and do laundry instead of getting on the first flight I could. I felt horrible, but I told myself that he was stable and that he could hold on until I got there the next day. And I told myself that I wasn't the only one not there - besides my brother, Brent, who was en route from Afghanistan (they let him go as soon as he got the news and they gave him 16 days leave), my brother Chris, was in Arizona. So I was holding it together pretty well.
After Bryce got home, I finished packing for everyone, picked up a little bit, and we headed out the door. It was a very strange feeling. I knew I was moving - packing, cleaning, etc - but I felt detached from everything I was doing, like I was going through the motions but not actually feeling anything. Bryce kept asking me how I was doing, and I would mumble that I was fine. And as long as I had a task at hand, I was fine. It was probably 9:30 by the time we got the kids all loaded into the car and got out on the road headed for Bryce's parents' house. My flight was leaving at 9:00 AM the next morning and I was looking forward to just sleeping. I was so drained. As we started our drive, Bryce told me how he couldn't stop thinking about how much the Lord loved my dad. He got emotional as he talked about how incredible it was that my dad's last few days on earth included not just seeing all of his siblings one more time, but that he was also able to take the sacrament, renew his covenants, and even renew his temple recommend. What better way to go?! That the Lord would provide those experiences for my dad really touched Bryce, and me too, and lots of other people as well, as I came to find out. I felt a lot of comfort as we talked about this and I almost felt at peace.
As we were about to head into the canyon, I knew I wouldn't have any cell phone coverage, so I called my brother, Nathan, again (he was the one I had been communicating with most of the day). He gave me another status update, as he had done several times in the last couple of hours, and as before, Dad's status was getting worse. His blood pressure was dropping and his vitals were falling. They didn't think he'd make it through the night. This was a blow. Not a shock, really, but just a huge disappointment because I was so hoping he'd stay around until I could get there. I longed to just hug him one more time and feel his scruffy beard against my face. I wanted so badly to hold his big hand while it was still warm, and tell him goodbye. Somehow all the phone calls that ended in "I love you," just didn't seem to cut it anymore and I just wanted one more chance to say it to him, even if he wasn't really there anymore. I was still holding it together until I asked Nathan who was there and he named everyone in the room, which included my mom, my two sisters, my sister Courtney's fiance, Nathan's wife, and then he said my brother, Chris. Chris was there? I know I should have been happy that he made it, but I was more surprised than anything, and then I lost it. I started to cry and Nathan said something about wishing he could teleport me there (so Nathan :), and all I could get out was that I wasn't in Afghanistan, I should be there. As we closed the conversation, I told Nathan that I would call him as soon as we got out of the canyon and we said goodbye. When I hung up the phone, I just started to weep. Mattie was asleep, thank goodness, but I hope CJ doesn't remember watching his mom, and dad, but mainly his mom, sob. After composing myself several minutes later, I felt so tired. I tried to sleep in the car, but couldn't turn my mind off. As soon as we were out of the canyon, about 50 minutes later, I called Nathan. And this time came the news I knew was coming...Dad had passed. About 20 minutes earlier (11:05 PM), after a moving family prayer given by my brother, Chris (which still kills me that I wasn't able to be there for), as my father lay encircled by his family, his mortal life came to an end. And the funny thing was, as soon as Nathan told me, I felt such a sense of peace and relief, and I felt better than I had felt all day. And even now, as I write this, I'm reliving those emotions - the sadness, the longing, the sense of loss, but also the peace, and the undeniable calm that comes from knowing that my dad has moved on to the next phase in his journey and all is well...we will be together again.
It was such a great reunion with my family, and I feel closer to them than ever! Planning a funeral is more work than I ever imagined, but it was nice to keep myself occupied. After being in Utah for 6 days, it was very difficult to leave and come back to my life. I couldn't really function the first day we were back - partly from being so physically exhausted, but also from being emotionally drained as well and feeling totally overwhelmed with my life that had been piling up while I was gone. I came home to two weeks' worth of laundry, a challenging new calling, preschool, potty-training, grocery shopping, cleaning, bills, appointments, etc, etc, etc, and I didn't want to do any of it. I kept feeling like I shouldn't be here, like I should still be in Utah. There are still a lot of loose ends that need to be tied up with my mom, and I hate that I live away and can't be there for her right now. I hate that we're poor and I can't just fly down there whenever I want. I hate that it takes over 12 hours to drive there and costs almost as much as flying. And I hate that I don't know how she is doing. Once my brother leaves to go back to Afghanistan, she's going to be alone for the first time ever. We know it, and she knows it, and I hate that I can't be there to help make it not so bad.
But it is getting easier. I'm pretty much ok. It's only every once in a while that I find myself re-realizing my dad is gone. Like when we went out to eat one day in Utah and the first thing I thought of was what we were going to get to take back to Dad; or when I kept finding myself looking around the corner at their house, expecting Dad to pop his head in before going to bed; or just yesterday, when I found myself thinking, "Oh, it's Sunday. I haven't talked to Dad in a while, better give him a call." But at the same time, I find great comfort knowing that my dad knew I loved him. Last Father's Day (2009), I wanted to do something special for my dad. We had just found out about his tumor on his pituitary gland (no, it wasn't cancerous, and no, that's not how he died) and with serious health issues comes serious reflection. I knew that my dad was in the twilight of his life, and I wanted to do something more meaningful than a box of Applets and Cotlets or a movie of some kind. So my sweet husband suggested I write my dad a letter...and I did. It took me several days, but I wrote my dad a letter telling him how much he meant to me, sharing with him some of my favorite memories of him, explaining to him the influence he had on me and why we named our first son after him, and expressing my gratitude to him for all he's sacrificed and done for me and for our family. I'm SO grateful I wrote that letter - and that I have such an amazing husband who is so in tune with the Spirit - not just because of the chance it gave me to tell my dad how much I loved him, but because of the peace it gives me now, knowing he knew and that I don't have to live with any regrets, wishing I had told him those things.
And so now life goes on. We move forward. And we move forward with faith, faith in the Savior and his atoning sacrifice that paved the way for us to be reunited again; and faith in the Plan of Salvation, which is also the Plan of Happiness, the plan that prepared a way for us to have never-ending joy with our earthly families and with our Heavenly Family for all eternity. I know it. My dad knew it. And I hope you know it too.
Curtis Brent Forsgren
May 1, 1935 - September 14, 2010
