I want to write a bit, but have been procrastinating, because it would be so hard. I feel a bit silly sending this to Matt's family. I feel like a unqualified third party documenting the story, but for my extended family and for our personal family history, I do want to record a few details. I hope I do not misrepresent things based on my perceptions.
On Friday, April 23, 2010, Matt's dad, John Paul Tanner passed away. He was 67 years old. This was an unexpected event, although, as we sort through our experiences of the days preceding his heart bypass surgery, I believe that some of us quietly, almost sub-consciously, guessed what the outcome of the surgery would be. Not that it made it any easier to bear when it happened.
After receiving the news Friday evening, our family hurriedly packed and left on Saturday to join Matt's family in Utah. I am very grateful to all the people here who filled in with pet care, took over paper routes, substituted in church teaching assignments and waived other requirements that we had going on here.
The entire week was emotionally exhausting. It feels blasphemeous to admit that it was also a wonderful time of visiting with family and friends. I was amazed at all the people who dropped everything and came for the funeral service. There were people there who were Matt's childhood friends who he had not seen in close to 20 years.
I thought I would write some of my memories and impressions of John, but I can't quite do that yet. Here are some other things that struck me as profound about the whole experience: I have an image permanently recorded in my mind of Sandy and the 5 children standing in a reception line together at the viewing on Tuesday evening. It was a picture of a beautiful, strong group of people bound by eternal ties of love, who were in complete harmony with one another. Their very lives were the most powerful tribute of John and to him. I feel an overwhelming sense of awe at being allowed to be a part of this family.
Another impression that I had, which I have never experienced, is the deep void that I felt in the feeling of our group gatherings. It was more than just missing his physical presence, I truly felt a gap that his spirit filled as patriarch of the family. After feeling this way for a couple days, one night during the dinner prayer, the feeling in the room changed and felt normal again. It felt complete and comfortable. I think that maybe his spirit was there with us. I now believe that each spirit has a distinct essence -- one that can be recognized and felt. I would use the analogy of how a cook can taste the flavor of each ingredient in a special dish. The flavors blend so well, one doesn't notice them separately until one ingredient is missing and it just doesn't taste right. Well, the void is back, but I am thankful for that one moment, and for what I learned.
I liked how Aunt Becky spoke of John's death in her prayer at the funeral service. She called it a graduation from mortality. In my opinion, John graduated with honors. I know he was on the right path. Although we are sad -- beyond any way of putting it into words -- we also have the hope that he is not gone forever. Becky's words helped me remember the grand time-line of our total existence. Knowing this helps me want to try to be valiant as a wife and mother so that we can claim the privilege of being a complete family through the eternities.
While in Utah, we adults spent a lot of time reminiscing and honoring John, but the grand-kids did not have a formal opportunity to share their feelings and memories. So, here is what our children have to say about their grandfather:
Kadin -- I remember eating pretzels and drinking lemonade and playing Uno. When he came to visit us at our house he brought cherries and they were really good. At his house, it was his job to take out the trash. He had brown hair that was brushed all nice, and it seemed like he was always smiling. We set up a table and Grandpa played Sorry with us in that big room at Mill Hollow.
Maddy -- Grandpa was fun and he loved little kids. I liked playing Uno with him. When we were at his house I saw him taking a lot of naps. He liked to hold Sarah and let her play in his toy pocket. I remember Grandpa on the jet ski in his straw hat at Lake Powell. Grandpa always enjoyed the meals that Grandma made, and he said thank you to her.
Jillian-- I remember when he would be playing cards with Grandma Lesh, he'd say, "If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried," I remember him telling me that even if Grandma Lesh looked like a cute, old grandma lady, she was really mean when it came to cards. I remember going up on the top of the houseboat at Lake Powell, and we watched the sunrise while he steered the boat. He was often squinting and he blinked with his eyes shut really tightly. I remember he fed us a healthy breakfast -- it was gingerbread and ice cream, and then he told Grandma, I gave them bread and dairy! That is what they need!
Dallin -- I remember he'd let us play chess on his computer. He liked to play Hand-and-Foot, or any card game. He liked playing Uno with us, and we liked to drink "beer" (lemonade) and pretzels while doing it. He liked to read the Consumer Reports and I always thought it was fun too. I remember every Christmas he was the garbage monster, and he collected all the trash from the unwrapping. When we were little, we would run past him in his chair and he would try to grab us and hug us. It was fun. He got to drive the house boat and the Jet-skis. He sat on his red chair a lot and would read the paper or hold the youngest grandchild. He would always be the one to cut the turkey or meat, and once he used his power knife thing, and it was really cool. I remember driving to Lake Powel in his car and once we stopped for gas and he looked under the hood, but then it wouldn't close. But he didn't get mad about it. When he lived in Texas and we went to visit, he watched us race our remote control cars.
Kaylee -- He played Uno with us and we had "beer" and pretzels. This happened several times over the course of a few years. We always looked forward to it when we visited. The only time I remember him getting mad at us, I was really little. It really scared me. We were bouncing on the couch, and he came in and called our names, and then made us sit down on the couch and he talked to us. Afterwards he played a game with us, but I was scared of him for a while after that. I remember his chair -- the red one -- that he always sat in. I remember that when we went downstairs he would sit at the computer and show me all the pictures that he had of the grandkids. I also remember the bulletin board with all the pictures. It made me feel loved when I was featured on it. Several times Grandma would be telling us something "mom-like", and it was something we didn't want to do. He would come in and say something funny and nice that would help put it in perspective so that we were more willing to do what she said. But he made it seem like he was on our side, and was our friend. He was always either in a bathrobe, or dressed up nice in khaki's and a dress shirt. There was no in-between. I always found that confusing and funny when I was a little kid. One more thing: He had the coolest pencil collection. They were Ticonderoga #2 (which are the best kind.) He had a million of them and they were all perfectly sharpened and kept in a special place.
Hugs to all of you. Grandpas are special.
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