Five Years

I had a realization this morning. Well, it started yesterday. I realized that I have been at my current place of employment for 5 years this week.

As a point of reference - that is more than double the time I have been employed anywhere else in my adulting life. It's monumental. Maybe I should be looking for a new employer...

Anyway, I realized there was something nagging at my brain. Today, five years ago, I was purchasing a burial plot for my dad - who wasn't quite dead yet.

(I realize this attempt at humor will not appeal to all who see it, but it is, no lie, what went through my head that day. And he's my dad, so too bad.)

I also was working on his obituary.

I didn't tell my employer about my dad when I interviewed, or even when I was hired. First of all, I guess I didn't think it was their business. Secondly, I probably selfishly hoped that by not treating it as an issue, then - perhaps - he would stick around a little longer. But during the day on Tuesday (the day after I started) I talked to my mom who said she didn't think my dad would live much longer. I went in and told my employer about my dad and explained that I was sorry, but I had to go that night and I didn't know when I would be back.

My brother, IV, picked me up from the airport and although I don't recall the specifics of our discussion on the drive to Provo, I can tell you it is the most real and adult conversation we had ever had.

The next 3 days were spent sitting around talking with family and friends who came and went. And sitting with dad at his bed talking, even though he couldn't really respond. Just letting him know what was going on with things - new job, some family history and genealogy work I had been doing and how the kids were doing. And that I loved him.

One the evening of the 9th of August, after church representatives and lots of extended family had left, my brothers and I gathered downstairs for some Mario Kart and other video games. It was a way to escape for a little while. At some point, some of the brothers decided to leave and I as ready to get a little bit of sleep.

However, across the hallway, in my dad's room, I sensed something was different. My brother VII was in there and I joined him and his wife. We let the other brothers know who were still at my parent's house and my mom. My mom called the two who had left, as well.

We all sat around my dad and waited - mostly quietly - as we watched my dad die.

I sat.

Helpless.

At times very disturbed at what I was witnessing.

Mourning.

Sorrowing.

Yet...at peace.

The unpeaceful nature of his passing was offset by peace. Peace knowing that death is part of God's plan. That some things transpired just prior to his passing that were a real testament to me that others were in that room who were not seen by us. That death is not really the end.

But I am not going to lie - as a human being, I had to work out some feelings and thoughts on that experience. I was not prepared for watching my dad die. If you can prepare for it, I highly recommend it.

I miss my dad. He wasn't perfect. He wasn't the greatest person to ever live. But he was my dad. And he taught me things. I learned from him by watching and doing. I also learned from him by watching and not doing. But he was a good man who just wanted to be a good dad. And he was that.

So there you go, I have to always remember that my work anniversary is tied to the anniversary of my dad's death.

Ahhhh....Scout Camp...$$!!**@@&&^^##%%

There are not enough cuss words to adequately describe just how excited I was to go.

I volunteered a few months ago to go to scout camp last week. There were many reasons, not the least of which being that I had two sons who were going, so I figured it would be a nice thing. That was the bright spot, really.

Plus, my dad sacrificed a week of his vacation every year for a LOT of years to go to scout camp - sometimes even when one of his sons wasn't going. He was scoutmaster for a lot of years. So, surely I could do that for one year, right?

On Friday, as I left work, my coworkers said, "Enjoy your vacation!" This elicited a more than a slight chuckle from me. Vacation? Okay...sure. I will be helping to babysit 12 boys for a week to make sure they don't get lost in woods, drown, start a forest fire, cut off any fingers, or deface any national monuments.

***Spoiler alert***  I am happy to report that we were successful in that regard.

Yes, there were multiple pocket knife injuries, but nobody lost a complete body part. ***End Spoiler Alert***

Scout camp - full of dorky songs and yells and stupid schedules and expectations of attendance at campfire programs and flag ceremonies every day. Can't they just leave you alone and let you camp and go to your classes and have fun?

Why the )*(&!#*$(*&!#(_%*& songs and yells?  They are so $*(!)(&^#!&$)!^$^ stupid!!!

And the expectation to be at the programs where those songs and yells are repeated over and over again!!! Shoot me!!

That's how it felt at the start of the week. If you knew how my scout troop operated when I was a scout, then you would understand why I feel that way.

But, this week, we adult leaders made the kids go to flag every morning. We made them wear their uniforms. We hiked them up the hill to campfire.

We made them sing the (*$!%^%$(*#!)&^$ songs and yells. We made sure nearly every merit badge signed up for was completed before leaving - about 95%.

Then Friday came along.  The entire encampment was together for the closing flag ceremony.

The yells were louder than they were on Monday. The songs were louder, too. The excitement was way higher. The participation level was clearly much higher. Even leaders were getting into it.

Even I was getting into it.

It could have been that everyone was tired and loopy from no sleep all week.

It could have been that everyone was just excited to be going home the next day to shower in a real shower, use a real bathroom and sleep in their own bed.

It could have been that the Pavlov conditioning was working and everyone was being brainwashed into it.

Or maybe...just maybe...the experience meant something and everyone was giving back in the moment because of the week they had.

Maybe everyone was truly enjoying it.

Maybe seeing that change over the course of a week is why my dad kept going back year after year. So...we stopped by to see him on the way home...

I also might have been a little bit proud of this moment: (Listen carefully for Nick's description of the Utah State Flag)

Deep Thoughts

Or not. Maybe just thoughts.

As I was driving toward St. George on Saturday night after a satisfying trip to Lavell Edwards Stadium, I found myself thinking again. Nick on my right and Josh behind me.

It was a good trip. I found myself wondering if my boys will remember this trip like I remember certain trips with my dad and brothers. And will they remember it fondly?

(I think I did a pretty good job of keeping Gollum in check.)



 We just were 3 boys having fun going to a football game; eating nachos and hot dogs and cougar tails. I just wanted it to be fun. I want them to have a happy memory.

This is Josh adding to his signature collection on his football. Ask him about...but only if you're prepared to spend the time listening. He loves to talk about it.





I tried to point out to them the beauty of the landscape we were speeding past in the dark. The beauty that you could only see because of the soft, white blanket covering the ground between Fillmore and Beaver. That blanket was reflect in a strong light radiating from the moon.

Part of me wished I could just pull over and enjoy looking at it for a little while. However, I didn't have any snacks or beverages in the car that would allow for a prolonged trip. But I imagined what it would be like in my mind.

My dad taught me to appreciate things like that. Hopefully, in those moment between the glowing screens in front of their faces, they truly caught a glimpse of it.

See, I had a birthday a little more than a week ago and I sort of had some sudden realizations that I am starting to not be that young any more. (Starting) My body tries to remind me of that now and then when my mind isn't so convinced.

I am having conversations about things with my kids and telling them it was 30 years ago. Really? Thirty years? It doesn't seem like it was that long ago, but 30 is kind of a big number looking back.

The boys did get to enjoy playing in the median of the freeway for a little more than an hour as we waited for this mess to get cleaned up the next morning just north of Valley of Fire. So, that's a memory, too.

The smoke is rising from the second of two accidents ahead of us.

If you look at this photo closely, life flight is just taking off.

This was the cause of the second accident.

Two Years

No, it doesn't always seem like it's been that long.

Yes, I think about that night a lot.

No, I am not always comforted by things I know to be true, regardless of how surely I think I know them.

Yes, I do find hope and peace in certain memories from the experience.

My friend tells me that some of the pain I have eases over time and that I will start to let the peace and hope outweigh the pain, distress and regret.

It's still hard to not be able to call my dad and just talk. It's not like we did that all the time, but I like knowing I always could. Whatever it was - politics, BYU football, something the kids were doing. It's nice to be able to talk to your dad about those things - especially when you are on the same page. And we were.

And he was always supportive of me and what we were doing. Any other disagreements we had didn't wash away the fact that I knew he loved me and was proud of me and my family.

So, today, two years from that early morning hour when I watched my dad pass from mortality, I miss him.

One of These Things Is Not Like the Other

I have watched 3 living souls die. Two humans and one dog.

How's that for a starter to a blog entry?

The most peaceful death I witnessed was that of my family's dog, Pepper. Just over 2 and a half years ago, she was blind, she always smelled because of some sort of sickness she was in the middle of, and she could barely move around the yard. So, we decided that she needed to be euthanized because I couldn't bring myself to save $100 and just take her north on US95 a few miles.

And it was sad. It was hard, but very peaceful. She went to sleep and then died. One second our puppy was there. The next second, she wasn't; just her body. And Nick and I cried together in that moment.

In 2007, Nick and I were on our way to a "Fathers and Sons" outing with our church. I don't intend to get into all the details, but I witnessed a horrific crash when a vehicle traveling on I-15 in the opposite direction rolled 3 times and landed in the median. I was the first vehicle to stop and the first person on the scene. Nick stayed in the van watching a movie.

As I knelt by a little girl, I watched her grandma breathe her final breaths. It was not a pleasant memory. It was violent and can still, from time to time, disturb my thoughts more than 8 years later.

Lastly, we are coming up on the 2 year anniversary of my dad's death. I was there in the room when he died. Also in the room were my mom, 3 brothers and a sister-in-law. And while I would like to say that watching his passing was as peaceful as watching Pepper die, it wasn't. No, it was much closer to watching the woman die in the median of I-15.

It's a thought that I can't seem to get out of my mind right now. It was not an easy, peaceful thing to watch. It was painful and disturbing.

Yes, there was an experience associated with it that can bring peace to my soul if I can focus more on it than the mere physical and mortal experience. But I am not always able to do that. I wish it was a less disturbing memory, but it isn't.

I have a friend who was with her husband when he died of cancer and I spoke to her recently. She assured me that the disturbing part of the memory will fade over time. It's been 13 years for her.

So, I hold on to that. There is an experience linked with the event that brings peace and has profound meaning. I try to hold on to that and push back the other.

Good Grief

Grief.  I suppose it can be good.  It certainly doesn't help us a lot if it isn't, that's for sure.  If it's not good, I can definitely tell you it is funny.  Not funny, "Ha Ha," although that is how I often deal with the grief when it comes.  More of a funny, "That's interesting or odd" way.

See, just now I almost spelled odd "ood."  That's funny, "Ha Ha."  I am now picturing myself carrying around a glowing ball through tentacles hanging from my face.

Anyway, there's a phone call I used to make.

In the three previous years, it's been a commiseration call. Other years, the call is celebratory in nature. Sadly, it was to be another commiseration call.  I was realizing this morning that I don't get to make that phone call this year, or ever again in the future. And I suddenly realized I am going to miss that call.

I owe the connection I have to BYU football to my Dad. Make no mistake, my Mom is a fan, too. But, as a boy, I always looked to my Dad when it came to sports - particularly BYU sports. This was passed on to him from his Dad - in large part by legend, since his Dad died when he was eight years old.

I will miss the BYU-Utah game FAR less than I will miss calling my Dad afterwards, whether that night or the next day.  Then I realized that there will be other things that will come up in the next while where I will suddenly notice a hole in my life. Some I might be able to predict, others I will not.

For example, two weeks ago, when I went to the BYU-Texas game, I went down to visit with my family, like I do at every game. I knew my Dad wasn't going to be there, of course. However, when I looked across my brothers, nieces, nephews, and Mom, it was all I could do to not break out crying. My Dad wasn't there. (At least, not that I could see. He's a big enough fan that, I suppose if he was able to arrange it, he was there.)

Here's another example. The week after we got back from Provo and my Dad's funeral, I called my Mom every day. One day, I was in my car, using my Bluetooth to make the call. I suddenly realized the number was stored in my car as, "Mom and Dad Avery."

Moments like these strike when I am not really ready for it.  Hey, my relationship with my Dad wasn't perfect, but he is my Dad.

Evolution of an Obituary

Does anyone look forward to writing an obituary?  I'm not talking about imagining one for your worst enemy from High School.  Maybe you didn't even do that, I mean, neither did I.

No, I am talking about an obituary for someone you love.  Say, your Dad.

My Dad had not passed away yet, but I needed to do something besides just waiting around.  And not just sitting downstairs and playing the Wii with my brothers - or nieces and nephews so I could actually win.  Something productive.

I started by going to purchase burial plots - yes plural - at the Orem Cemetery. Probably best to reserve the space for my Mom next to my Dad, we figured.  The employee asked me, "Are these for a funeral?"  Using my best Bill Engvall impression, I looked at him, cocked my head and said, "Nope.  I'm a pirate and I'm looking for a good place to hide my treasure.  Perhaps you have a cross-shaped headstone I can turn 45 degrees and use to mark it?"

One of his very next questions was, "Has your father passed?"  I had anticipated this one and was ready with, "Well, he's not quite dead, yet."  Okay, so I got that finished and I went back to my parents' house to start writing the obituary.  I wanted to get something for my Mom and brothers to use as a baseline from which to expand.

As I started, I realized that there were lots of details that I didn't know and that sort of lent to the tone of the original draft.  Here it is:

John LeGrande Avery died at his home in Provo on Some Future Date, 2013 after an eight month battle with brain cancer.

John was born in Provo on October 7, 1942 to Floyd and Sadie Avery. He is survived by his wife Pamela Cardon Avery and his eight sons, Matt (Nicki), Brian (Chris), Danny (Staci), Peter, Andy (Sarah), Wes (Melissa), David (Jannet) and Alex – most of whom are married with 22 kids between them. Matt has the most, so that makes him the best.

John, or LeGrande, or Bud – depending on which circle of friends he was in – served faithfully in Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints his entire life in a variety of callings, most recently as an Executive Secretary in a Young Single Adult Stake where Tom Holmoe serves as a counselor in the presidency. However, the majority of his life was spent in service of young men in a multitude of Boy Scout leadership positions. On some date a while back, he received the Silver Beaver Award, one of the BSA’s highest awards.

A viewing will be held on Friday, Some Future Date, from 6pm to 8pm at Lindon Mortuary E, S, in Lindon, UT. Funeral services will be held on Saturday, Some Future Date at 11 am at the Edgemont 6th Ward Chapel (the “Red Brick” building – or the 4th ward’s chapel, for those of you in the 4th ward) at 4000 N. 650 East, Provo, Utah. His body will be buried in the Orem Cemetery.

I found some details that I didn't have when I just jotted the original draft:

John LeGrande Avery died at his home in Provo on Some Future Date, 2013 after an eight month battle with brain cancer.

John was born in Provo on October 7, 1942 to Floyd and Sadie Avery.  He is survived by his wife Pamela Cardon Avery and his eight sons, Matt (Nicki), Brian (Chris), Danny (Staci), Peter, Andy (Sarah), Wes (Melissa), David (Jannet) and Alex and 22 grandchildren.

John, or LeGrande, or Bud – depending on which circle of friends he was in – served faithfully in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints his entire life in a variety of callings, most recently as an Executive Secretary in the Spanish Fork Young Single Adult Stake.  However, the majority of his life was spent in service of young men in a multitude of Boy Scout leadership positions.  On September 11, 2004, he received the Silver Beaver Award, one of the BSA’s highest awards.

A viewing will be held on Friday, Some Future Date, from 6pm to 8pm at Olpin Family Mortuary 494 S. 300 East in Pleasant Grove, Utah.  Funeral services will be held on Saturday, Some Future Date at 11 am at the Edgemont 6^th Ward Chapel (the “Red Brick” building – provided the 4^th Ward does not revoke its permission to use their building) at 4056 N. 650 East, Provo, Utah.  Internment services will be at the Orem Cemetery.

That night, another detail crucial for an obituary became known.  At this point, there was a lot more participation in the edit process, thankfully.  But, you will definitely note some influence from Avery V who graduated from PA School at the School up North.

John LeGrande Avery died at his home in Provo on August 10, 2013, after an eight month battle with brain cancer.

John was born in Provo on October 7, 1942 to Floyd and Sadie Avery.  He is survived by his wife Pamela Cardon Avery, his eight sons and six daughters-in-law – Matt & Nicki, Brian & Chris, Danny & Staci, Peter, Andy & Sarah, Wes & Melissa, David & Jannet and Alex – and 22 grandchildren. He is also survived by sisters Ara and Sue, and brothers Barry and Con.  He was preceded in death by one sister, Dena Joyce, and one brother, Chad.

John, LeGrande or Bud served two years as a missionary in New Zealand and continued to serve faithfully in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints his entire life in a variety of callings, most recently as an Executive Secretary in the Spanish Fork Young Single Adult Stake.  He influenced countless young men as a Boy Scout leader, helping many of them achieve the rank of Eagle - including his eight sons. He was given the Silver Beaver Award, one of the BSA’s highest honors. He loved making itineraries and lists and repacking cargo space prior to and during any outing involving a vehicle. He had a love-hate relationship with long road trips. Driving fast was his specialty.

Dad spent a career in Computer Engineering, but preferred to spend his time in the outdoors hiking, fishing, camping, skiing, backpacking and bicycling.  He was skiing when symptoms of the cancer were first noticed. He was also an avid BYU fan and held season football tickets for decades, but it should be noted that the last football stadium he entered was Rice-Eccles, home of the Runnin’ Utes.

He received wonderful care and attention from the staff of Horizon Home Health and Hospice for several months. Prior to that, he had great care from Drs. Reichman, Clark and Rich.  Thank you so very much.

A viewing will be held on Thursday, August 15, from 6pm to 7:30pm at the LDS Chapel at 4056 North 650 East, Provo, Utah, happily bumping any ball bouncing in the gym.  Funeral services will be held on Friday, August 16 at 11 am at the same chapel (the “Red Brick” building – provided the 4^th Ward does not revoke its permission to use their building) with a viewing from 10:00am to 10:45am.  Internment services will be at the Orem Cemetery.

In reality, there were many edits and much discussion that went into this version.  There were ideas and input that I am not including here.  (To summarize, when you get more than one Avery brother together in a room, reverence is short-lived.  It's not that we don't know how to be reverent.  It was taught to us by our parents - drilled even; sometimes literally.)  Yes, we had moments of raucous laughter followed by silence that was only interrupted by sniffling and stifled crying - then soon followed by more laughter and stories.

It's been quite an emotional 3 days, so far.

One last thing: I heard your question.  I did.  "What's with the 4th Ward?"  I am glad you asked.  This is really an inside joke that likely only members of the 6th and 16th Wards can fully appreciate.  "Three wards in one building, one ward to rule them all."  You will see that the reference was removed for the final version.  We couldn't bring ourselves to be THAT irreverent.  You can read the final version here.

So very weird to expect to see my Dad here at my parents' home and talk to him, but he's not here.  I love my Dad.  And I miss him.