Happy New Year!

For most, January first marks the beginning of a new year. A chance to start over, reclaim those resolutions that have fallen so far behind and begin the year with a fresh start. Last year we said 2011 was going to be a year of much needed change and looked forward the experiences ahead with anticipation. Instead, 2011 has been a year of reflection. No. Excitement? Not really. Anxiety? Sometimes. Struggle? Occasionally. Crying? You bet. How about if we say that 2011 has been a year of who knows what? BINGO!

You see, at the beginning of 2011, Jona and I felt unsettled, but in a good way. We knew something was going to change, perhaps a new job for Jona coupled with a move to another town, or hopefully another baby that we have tried so hard to have these last few years. What we didn't know, however, was that God had something much more important planned for us. Can I honestly say that I accept and appreciate the change? Not yet, but in time (cross your fingers!). On April 17, everything stopped with one phone call bearing the news of our anticipated change – my dad had been in an accident and before the words were said, I realized that he was no longer with us.



**Side note - How's that for a first post on a new blog? :) What better way to start off a conversation than talking about a super comfortable subject – death. Of course I could make this a sad, depressing post, but honestly, I've had too much of those feelings this year (I'll just save that depressing post for later… cross your fingers for that one too!). **
Devastation quickly set in, as did nausea, headache, chest pain, trouble breathing, etc., etc., etc. It's a wonder that I didn't pass out from the shock. He seemed fine the day before – so go ahead and add confusion to my list of feelings. In time we learned that he had a massive heart attack, fell into the water, and despite lengthy attempts by caring and compassionate strangers, was unable to be revived. Yuck (which coincidentally rhymes with a much more appropriate word for what I was/am feeling at this moment). This is, by far, a much more difficult situation than anything I've encountered – much more than dealing with mom's cancer, recovering from her death, or even dealing with our infertility struggles. But somehow we managed to get through those minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and finally we have arrived at the (drumroll please…) one year anniversary mark! WooHoo! Cue the confetti, the noise makers and don't forget the sarcasm! Happy New Year! How can time go by so quickly and stand still all at the same time?
I made no resolutions on January 1 – just hope that 2012 would bring peace, and well, something a little less dramatic than 2011. On April 17, 2011, part of my world came to a screeching halt and now, one year later, I think I am ready to shift back into drive. So for me, April 17, 2012 is my Happy New Year – happy because we survived a year of confusion and mourning. Happy because surely God will have some mercy and let us continue to heal before slamming us with another big shockaroo. Happy because we have no where to go but up - figuratively and I guess literally given the subject matter. Happy because I can't carry on my mom and dad's spirit by being sad all the time – they were so full of life that I have to keep that spirit alive in everything I do. Happy because I know that mom and dad are together and are a force much more powerful now than before (scary and comforting all at the same time J). Happy because I am ready to stop trying to understand why things happen and begin embracing the changes given to us, no matter how devastating. Happy because we made it a year without dad, almost 7 without mom, and I think we are going to be okay – which I'm sure has something to do with what awesome teachers mom and dad are.
So as I reflect on this past year, I find myself back at the computer, reading dad's eulogy that I composed without hesitation. And I'd like to share that here, because when you lose someone special, having everyone forget how meaningful that life is, is almost as sad as losing the person in the first place. Thank you for letting me share how important love and life are with you.

6 years ago I had no idea that we would be standing here again. But here we are, and I can think of no better reason than to celebrate the life of an amazing man. Thank you all for simply knowing and loving our dad.

When I was younger, Jonathan and I spent a lot of time with dad. Mom worked nights and we had "adventure weekends" with dad so mom could rest. We went fishing – although it was more work than fun for him untangling our lines. We toured every single harley shop in south texas – just for him to sit on a bike – for hours! Yes, his obsession with motorcycles extends way beyond his recent Harley purchases. We went skiing – but first we had to buy all the gear – just so he could sit on the couch in his ski bibs to watch the snow report on the weather channel. in Edna. Where there is no snow. Oh Larry. He was very particular about things sometimes.

And then we grew up. Graduations, college, marriage, babies. I vividly remember him telling me as he walked me down the aisle – it's okay Jennifer, I can take back all the presents for you if you want to change your mind, all the while knowing that he already loved Jona as his own. And 4 years ago, when I had my daughter Cadyn, he was right there with a grape popsicle that I requested immediately after. He was always taking care of me, even though I was growing up – because that's what parents do. When I became a mom, suddenly every action, every decision, everything my parents did made perfect sense. Everything was done out of love and care.

And that's what dad did – he took care of things. Whether it was taking care of something for a friend, or work, or the community, he did so with dedication and loyalty and perfection.

But dad's ability to take care of things went beyond family and friends. I read, not too long ago, a short piece, 1950s advice to a new father – "the best gift you can give to your child is to love his mother"

When my mom was diagnosed with cancer in 2000, my sister, brothers and I learned what true love really means. My dad did everything he could to make things better – and sometimes that was waking up at 4:30 in the morning just to sit with mom and cry. Other times that meant sitting calmly and patiently when mom may have gotten just a little too excited about something, or perhaps decided to paint a few choice words on the bedroom wall. If she needed him, he was there, no question – putting aside his own needs to make hers better. His dedication and love to her during a time when you are forced to focus on the uncertainty of life made them both realize how special love really is. And when mom passed away, a part of his heart went with her. Dad missed her every day.

But my relationship with my dad is more than just these experiences. We had a very special relationship. We shared a lot – of good and bad. We took care of mom together, helping each other when things got too hard to understand. We shared tears and laughter, joy and sadness. We stood by each other and watched her take her final breath and continued to stand by each other in the days, months, years after. We talked about everything, and I realized that my relationship had grown from being a child to also being his friend. Words cannot express how much I love this man. Even though I'm 30, he still had the ability to comfort me as if I were 3.

And not only did I get to have 30 precious years with my dad, my daughter Cadyn has had him wrapped around her finger for the past 4. She loves her "little Grandpa" with the same kind of admiration as me. They were buddies – anything she wanted she got without question. I saw him look at her with love the same way he looked at me, and for that I am forever grateful for the short time she got to spend with him. And, when she gets sad and wants him to come back from being with Granny in the stars, she just tells him – Grandpa – you get your booty down here right now! She did a pretty good job of telling him what to do!

Dad is my hero. Not because he saved a child from a burning building or escuedaitten from a tree, but because he taught me how to love.

He loved fully, unconditionally and pure. He was silly, he was stubborn, he was goofy, he was full of life. My brothers and sister and I had a lot of fun with dad – there was always laughter and smiles – and he had a great smile. The first thing Ryan told me when we heard the news about dad was "he's with mom now and we are a strong family. We've done this before and we can do this again." That's the beauty of life. I have amazing siblings. We were blessed with amazing parents who taught us to love unconditionally without limits because they did so with each other and with each one of us. I miss my dad terribly, but I am at peace knowing that he is finally with mom and their love is what will help us carry on.

I see dad in all of us – Heather, Ryan, Jonathan, Aubrey, Claire, and Cadyn. And for those of us who were very special to dad – and you all know who you are – I'll leave you with this from a card dad gave me my first birthday after mom had passed. And in true Larry fashion, this is a bit corny and sappy.

"If you have a happy feeling from your head down to your feet,

And you really can't explain it, but you know it's quite a treat,

If you feel a bit like dancing as you're walking down the street…

Perhaps you have an angel on your shoulder.
May you always have an angel on your shoulder,
May you always keep a song within your heart
And may you always know how much I love you –
That's been true right from the very start."
Dad, I love you and be careful.
With that, welcome to our new blog – Sunshine and Sassypants. Sunshine because Lord knows we've seen our share of storms and need a little sunshine now and then. Sassypants because life with a 4 year old princess definitely includes a little, who am I kidding – A LOT of sass! May your day be blessed with your own Sunshine and Sassypants. Y