Family Memories - by Mark Robertson

I'd like to share a collection of memories us kids have about growing up with Dad.

We had Family scripture study, family prayer and family home evening.
Some of the family home evenings involved great preparation with visual aids, learning new music and of course refreshments.
One time, dad gave us each assignments to get the house cleaned up and ready for family home evening after dinner. We washed the dishes, dusted, vacuumed and straightened up so that our home felt clean and beautiful. Then we gathered for a very special family home evening. We sang a song, prayed and then dad was ready to present the lesson. He smiled and said, " tonight's lesson is love one another, now let's go get ice cream at Foster Freeze". That is one of the best lessons he taught us.

Dad taught us all to ride a bike.
He would hold the seat and run behind us until he was sure we could keep our balance. Dad gave us the confidence to do whatever we needed to do in life.

He loved both of our mom's, Mary in the early years, and then Roberta. He would always have a good bye kiss, and a hello kiss when he returned. He taught us to respect our mother.

Music was important to Dad.
We remember playing musical instruments together, singing in choirs he directed, and helping him teach summer school orchestra.
He had big quality speakers in the front room to listen to music.
As we gathered to kneel in prayer each night, we would pray for the two oldest cousins on their missions, Jim in Japan and Bruce in Hawaii.
Somehow, as Jim was half a world away, Dad arranged for him to purchase a quarter size violin, perfect for four year old, Esther. Dad was working on his master’s degree at SDSU and they needed some trial students for a new way of learning the violin, the Suzuki Method.
In our world of hand me downs, she actually had her own violin.
It was a beautiful violin with a shiny golden honey finish. Each week she rode with dad in our white Lincoln Continental to her lesson.
When you come from a family as big as the Robertson Clan, the alone time with Dad was her favorite part.

He taught us to work by the sweat of our brow. He was frugal.
He raised bees for honey. We had chickens for eggs, and then butchered them when they stopped laying.
We had chore lists posted in the kitchen.
We planted and weeded the
garden together. And picked fruit off a dozen trees he had planted.
When Dad was working on a car, which was often, he would always have one of us little helpers there to hand him tools.

Other memories are:
Learning to hang glide on sand dunes in Mexico and then in Santee and Phoenix.
The fraternity paddle on top of the fridge, that helped us remember to behave.

Fathers blessings

The trip back east, towing a tent trailer.
Water skiing with the Materns.

Root beer floats in bird mugs after Family Night.

Camping with family at Yosemite, Grand Canyon, Beach Camping and many other places

We would sit on his foot as a child until he would bounce us up and down and sing "To market, to market to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggity jig!"

Some of the kids used to get a
kick out of coming up behind wherever dad was sitting and messing up his hair and then running away. He would just shake his head and brush it back into place with his hands.

Before the last time Dad hiked Half Dome in Yosemite he wanted to condition himself so he could make the long hike. So he carved out steps in the dirt slope that went down to the creek behind the Braddon Way house and for weeks and weeks he would spend time going up and down the steps in the hill each day. Anna remembers being down by the creek with the neighborhood kids fishing for crawdads and seeing dad going up and down those steps.

Dad remembered fondly hiking down from half dome in the dark with Marybeth.

We ate healthy. But we didn't like the tigers milk each morning with oil, brewers yeast and molasses in milk. Dad's handful of vitamins was much bigger than the few we took. Oatmeal was our usual breakfast.
But we loved having tacos for dinner.
Dad's forehead would sweat from the homemade hot sauce he put on his tacos.

Things dad said:

Are you part of the problem or part of the solution?

No small task should take more than ten minutes. That includes washing dishes.

It will feel better when it quits hurting.

You need the right tool for the job.

A good dish dryer can handle a few dirty spots on the dishes.

On occasion Dad would come to the table for breakfast unshaven and put his scratchy cheek against one of the girls and say, good morning.

Dad would comb the kids hair with his pocket comb on Sunday mornings.

He used his watch as a toy to entertain babies.

Anytime we did something stupid, like putting regular gas in the diesel Volkswagen, he would put his hand on his forehead and shake his head with a smile.

There were great bike rides, like down from the tunnel at Zion National Park.

Tubing the Merced river in Yosemite.

Zip lines, home made root beer, go karts in the rain, swimming on hot summer nights, Singing Rose, rose around the camp fire, playing Rook, the Round Robin, hay rides, fasting and praying for Grandpa Robertson when he had his stroke, are all memories of the intense effort and plan to have a united close knit Robertson family.

We loved Christmas mornings, Dad handing out the presents, caroling on Christmas Eve, swimming in our above ground pool and eating peaches off the tree; diving for pennies, ice cream at Thrifty’s, and going to church as a family.

Last January, 8 of us got to go on a Caribbean cruise. One night,
Michael, Marybeth and I sang Edelvise for karaoke. Afterwards Dad said "Those are my children".

In the last two months, over 80 family members came to visit Dad. He loved family more than anything. We can't think of a better way for him to spend his final days.

We love you Dad.

Eulogy

Bert Melbourne Robertson – Eulogy

Delivered 19 Jul 2014 by Michael Robertson

Provo, Utah

I join with you today in remembering and honoring a righteous man—a loving father, grandfather, and friend—one who is faithful to sacred covenants and to family responsibilities. I love and appreciate my father and his example. I appreciate so many of you family and friends being here with us today.

Bert Melbourne Robertson was born October 23, 1921, in Lovell Wyoming, to John Wesley and Edna Harmer Robertson. Second of six children, he was born to a family rich in pioneer heritage. Dad lived a life full of family, music, faith, and service. Airplanes held a special interest to him, but he also loved camping, hiking, snow skiing, and water skiing. Yosemite was a favorite family reunion gathering place.

Dad’s older brother Jay was born 20 months before, so they were close growing up. Although a younger sister Beth lived only a few hours, the family grew with the birth of siblings Elaine, Donald, and Marilyn. All his siblings, except for Elaine, are here with us today.

With their father in elementary and secondary education, the family moved several times, living in Springville, Utah; Byron, Wyoming; Huntington, Utah; and Kelsey, Texas. One summer was spent in Palo Alto, California, while their father attended Stanford. Dad’s memories of these years are filled with music, learning to play the piano, alto horn, and baritone. He played duets with Jay and received awards in musical competitions. Of course, he also remembers getting into mischief, including hitching a sled ride behind an automobile.

After a year at a junior college in Texas, Dad struck out on his own, hopping on a boxcar to ride the rails back to Provo, where he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps. On completion of his service in the CCC, the aircraft business was booming due to the war in Europe, so he took a bus to Los Angeles, where he learned to be an aircraft mechanic.

Dad married Martha Gray in April of 1942. He was drafted shortly after the United States joined the Allied Forces of World War II, was inducted at Fort Bliss, Texas, and then sent to Camp Kearns, Utah. He was especially proud of qualifying as an expert on carbine and 50-caliber machine gun. Although he was on his way to instrumentation technicians’ school, learning to look after instruments and airplanes, soon to be headed overseas, the band was in need of an alto horn player. He soon was a member of the 390th Army Air Force Band, rehearsing hours every day for their radio show, for garrison parades, and for playing the troops off to the train as they were headed to war. In time, they replaced their alto horns with French horns. Dad spent the entire war in the band at Camp Kearns. After the war ended in 1945, Dad moved his family back to Los Angeles, where he got an Aircraft and Engine mechanics license on the GI bill and worked on the flight line for Douglas Aircraft. Their daughter Diana was born in March, 1946, but after a few years, Dad’s marriage to Martha ended.

With his love of music, it made sense for Dad to go back to college at UCLA, majoring in music, with the intent of being a music teacher.

I am not sure of the timing, but at some point my Grandfather Robertson completed optometry school and set up practice in Los Angeles. He was called to serve as bishop of the Mar Vista Ward, and enlisted Dad to accompany the ward choir.

My mother, Mary Doan, records the following in her life history.

“While singing in the Mar Vista Ward choir, I met my new husband to-be. Bert was the choir organist. For our first date, in May 1952, we went to a ward square dance. That was to begin, if not the happiest, certainly the most exciting and busiest part of my life thus far. Bert showed me a part of life I had never seen before. Music played a big part in his life. He was finishing college at UCLA to become a Music Teacher. He took me to my first opera. I attended my first ballet at the Hollywood Bowl. We took trips to Yosemite and Sequoia and Kings Canyon. I saw snow for the first time on these trips.”

“Bert had a yellow convertible when we met, and although many said it was the convertible that first attracted my attention, I knew that it wasn’t the convertible, but the driver that I liked. The yellow convertible was just [one of] the fringe benefits.”

Mary was a recent convert to the church, whose previous marriage had also ended. Bert and Mary were married in the Salt Lake City Temple, in August 1953, where they made sacred covenants and were endowed with power from on high. After they were married for time and eternity, my mother’s two children, Roberta, age 10, and Rodney, age 8, were sealed to them. They settled in Campo, California, fifty miles east of San Diego, where my father started his teaching career at Mountain Empire High School. He taught girl’s and boy’s glee and beginning instruments and band. The band marched in many parades, including the Mother Goose Parade of El Cajon and the Toyland parade of North Park.

With the long drive into town of an hour or more, Dad got quite a bit of experience delivering babies. They had five children while living in Campo. I was born in December 1954, on the side of the road at the Julian turn off on Highway 80 between Guatay and Descanso. With a retired doctor living in Campo, Rebecca was born at home in March 1957, but Dad still delivered her and was cleaning up as the doctor arrived. Mark was born in December 1958, along Highway 80, near Flinn Springs Park—they were getting closer. Marybeth was born in February 1961, making it to the hospital with minutes to spare. Esther was also born at the hospital in June, 1963.

The first of their grandchildren were born the same year as Esther. Deborah was born to Roberta and Don Roberts in May and Richard was born to Rod and Barbara in November.

The Campo years were filled with life. The family faithfully attended church every week, spending Sunday in town. Dad built an airplane from a wreck that he and Mom would use to fly to the Los Angeles Temple. Grandpa Robertson would pick them up at the airport, and return them on completion of their service. They also took Mom’s parents on trips to Catalina and the Grand Canyon. One year, Dad almost died of appendicitis, Mom suffered from Scarlet Fever after childbirth. Although our sister Diana usually only spent the summers with our family, it was decided she would live with us during the school year beginning her sophomore year in high school.

In 1964, the family moved to El Cajon. Dad recalls “The plan was for me to commute to work and the family to live in town. I bought the house even before I got the job. I had [received] my masters in the hopes that when a job was open at Mountain Empire High School I could be a vice principal but it never happened. They completely ignored me in that area. So I was pretty much out of there. I got tired of hauling the family to church and it was time to find a job in town. I got a job with the Santee School District.”

After moving into town, we lived close enough to church to walk and Dad was able to ride his bike to work. He built up the music program in the schools where he worked. We had music in our home. We all sang and played an instrument. Although he had me start out learning to play the Baritone in elementary school, he talked me into switching to violin so we could have a better family ensemble. The whole family played stringed instruments. One year, Dad was enlisted to teach Spanish in Jr High. Since he did not speak the language, he had to keep one lesson ahead of his students. He was glad to return to a curriculum of all music the next year. We always had fruit trees and a vegetable garden. Dad liked to be self-sufficient and everyone enjoyed of the bounty of his garden.

Dad and Mom were always looking out for their children. When Rod and Barbara’s marriage ended, Dad and Mom took in their children, Richard, David, and Sheri as their own. When Roberta’s marriage to Don ended, Deb had a place to come after school.

Tragedy struck our family in April 1971, when on a family vacation, our car went off the road, ending the life of our dear mother, Mary, and our sister, Rebecca. Family and friends rallied around us, helping to strengthen our faith and understanding of the plan of happiness, knowing we would one day be reunited as a family. Although our family has still not overcome the full effects of this tragedy, we are still working on it.

And so began a new chapter in our family story. Roberta came to live with us temporarily to help with the house and children. In time, she looked to our father as an example of a righteous priesthood holder and father, and made lists of his qualities by which to measure future marriage prospects. He in turn looked to her qualities as a mother and potential companion and was impressed to ask for her hand in marriage. They were married in the Los Angeles Temple for time in December, 1972, and six weeks later were sealed there for time and all eternity.

In their union, they grew the family with the birth’s of Elizabeth in November 1973, Eve in May 1976, and Anna in October 1979, while another generation was growing with the marriage of children and the birth of grandchildren, even until now with great grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren. Although it depends on how you count, Dad claims at least 86 descendants—it's a moving target.

While still in El Cajon, he served faithfully as high priest group leader then as counselor in the bishopric, both while still directing the ward choir. All his life has been one of service. He has helped many people with their car troubles, and could often be found on the ground under a car. Dad and Roberta would host family gatherings on the first Sunday of every month and on Holidays. Family Christmas caroling was an annual tradition.

In 2001, after all the kids had been raised, Dad and Roberta moved to Hemet, California, where he began serving in the Redlands Temple. They made new friends and found old friends too.

In 2006, Dad was impressed to move to Provo, Utah. He couldn’t even wait for his house to be sold. Once he found a place, he left the Hemet house in Rob’s care and took off. Most of us were surprised to find they had moved. Aunt Elaine called me to see if I knew why their phone had been disconnected. The move was good for Dad. He enjoyed serving in the Provo Temple, playing French horn in the American Fork Symphony Orchestra, and serving as the ward organist and choir director. He also enjoyed being close to the BYU Campus, where he could attend concerts and participate in events. He bought a snow blower and enjoyed clearing the walks for his neighbors.

It brought great joy for Dad to see his children and grandchildren receive sacred ordinances—to be blessed, baptized, serve missions, and to be endowed and sealed in the Temple.

As a gift for his 90th birthday, Gail Woodfield, a family friend who is a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, invited Dad to sing as a guest member of the choir during a rehearsal. He had a great time! At the end of the rehearsal, they introduced the four guests, telling their name, where they were from, and a sentence about each of them. Dad was introduced last. They gave his name and said that he had just turned 90 the week before. The choir and audience clapped politely. Then they said that he has been a ward choir director for the last 57 years. The entire choir gave him a standing ovation! Gail said that she has never seen the choir do that ever before! Needless to say, Dad grinned the whole time!

In these last two months since his diagnosis, over 80 family members have visited. Although the cancer made him very tired, he would get up every morning, spending most of the day in his chair in the living room. He enjoyed listening to people visit. He especially enjoyed the laughter. He was alert until his very last days. We appreciated the opportunity to visit and say goodbye, and are thankful for the blessing that he was not in severe pain.

We honor Roberta, who has opened her heart and home to many. For her love and care of Dad and for the great companionship they shared for 41 years—for being a devoted grandmother to their grandchildren and great grandchildren. We know she will miss him, but are comforted by her faith they will be reunited.

I was the first of five children born to Bert and Mary in the covenant. I was taught the gospel of Jesus Christ as I grew, and I looked forward to the day that I could be baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. From my youth my father taught me many things—how to enjoy life, to work hard and to play. From his example, I learned to love and cherish my wife and our children. I always knew that my father loved my mother. I attribute my love of music to him. But above all, I learned to love God and to serve Him.

Thank you, Dad, we love you.

Life’s trials and challenges are but learning opportunities—obstacles in our path to help us become who the Lord would have us become on our way back to our Father. I know that the inequities of this mortal world are healed through the Savior’s atonement. I bear testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the plan of happiness, through which we are all reunited, and do it in His sacred name, even Jesus Christ, Amen.

Peace

My phone rang around 5:30 this morning. It was Mom.  My Dad passed away around 4am.

I talked to Mom around 9pm last night to see how Dad was doing.  She reported that there had been no change.  That he was still sleeping and had not woken up.  Mom had managed to get quite a bit of rest during the afternoon mostly sleeping by Dad's side.  Yesterday morning Mom could hold Dad's hand and there was pressure and a bit of a grip from his hand onto hers.  By last night there was no more pressure in his hand.  She knew the end was near.

Yesterday I asked Mom when the last time was that she had had a conversation with Dad.  She said it was Thursday Afternoon - She had told him she loved him and he had told her that he loved her too.  I can't think of a better last conversation to have.

I will forever be grateful for the time that I have had to spend with my Dad and see so many of my family members. My Dad spent the last 2 months surrounded by those he loved. By my Mom's counting there have been 80 family members come to see my Dad.  He loved family more than anything.  I can't think of a better way for him to spend his final days.

I am grateful for the time I had yesterday to hold his hand.  To stroke his hair.  To feel his unshaven face against mine.  (As a little girl on the rare occasion that Dad would come to he table for breakfast unshaven he would put his scratch cheek against mine or Elizabeth or Anna and tell us good morning - feeling his face made me feel like a little kid again)  To loving adjust his oxygen mask because it had slipped down from his nose.  It is a very surreal experience to literally watch a parent die but it will forever be a sacred experience.

This morning Mom told me that she was sitting with Dad holding his arm, watching and listening to him breathe.  His breath paused and she though is this it?  He did that a few more times before peacefully passing away with my Mother at his side.  Mom's biggest concern yesterday was that my Dad was suffering.  She sounded to relieved that he had passed so peacefully.

The End is Near

I have always know dad to wear a watch.  Being hours/days away from death has not changed that.

Words to describe my visit today are hard to come by.  Dad is in a semi-comatose state.  The hospice nurse said that she thinks he will pass away by Monday or Wednesday at the latest.  I spent a few hours sitting by his bedside on the floor talking to Mom as she sat by his side holding his hand.  His breathing is raspy and labored.  The spirit is strong and the veil is thin.  I sat in a sacred space there at his bedside.

Mom just wants a hug from him and for him to tell her "there, there" as he has always done for her when she had a hard day.  She told me that she knows that he love her and that she will see him again.  She is happy for him that he will be able to see his parents and grandparents soon as well as Mary and Rebecca who he lost so many years ago.  Mom is just sad that he will no be there for her anymore.  As long as Mom continues to not clean the middle of her bathroom mirror she will see Dad's message of his love for her every day.  My parents are so in love with each other.

As I left today I kissed his head, smoothed his hair and told him I loved him one more time.  We got a more comfortable chair for Mom to sit in next to the bed.  She is so tired.  She was going to hold his hand and take a nap.

July 8, 9 & 10th Observations

No one is visiting Mom and Dad this week (Sheri & Jason left early Tuesday morning and Marybeth & Rob will be there later today) so I have been over at least briefly every day.  Mom will ask me to pick up things that she needs from the store so she doesn't have to leave Dad.

Tuesday we came by to find Mom helping Dad to get dressed followed by simply sitting in his walker resting before moving anywhere else.  Mom and Dad have this awesome adjustable bed that the grandkids love laying on and getting a ride.  I made a joke to Dad that he just liked to sleep on an amusement park ride - that small smile and a slight chuckle from him   He seemed to enjoy watching Peter and Jacob laugh and giggle in his bed.

Wednesday we dropped off popsicles for Dad at Mom's request.  When we arrived Dad was getting situated in his recliner in the living room.  Mom loving adjusted the pillow behind his head just right.  Dad isn't getting dressed any more and is sporting some very youthful airplane print flannel pj pants.  He didn't have any socks on so his feet were cold on the tile floor.  Mom got a blanket to put on his lap (he is always cold) as well a a blanket to put under his feet.  I love the example of love in action that I see as I watch my Mom care for my Dad.  We visited for a while and he watched Peter and Jacob play while I held Henry.   I asked him how he was and he replied "awful".  No smiles that day.

Thursday(today) Mom called and asked what time I would be in Provo for the boys swim lessons.    She asked if i could come an hour early so that she could get a shower.  She explained that they had a bad night.  Dad was awake coughing for almost 2 hours.  He wasn't comfortable in bed so she helped him move to her big padded office chair.  The chair sat just inside the bedroom door with Dad in it while Mom sat on a small stool next to the door.  She was able to lean her head against the wall in hops of getting a little sleep.   Dad would try to move out of the chair but didn't seem to know where he wanted to go.  During one coughing fit Dad said to Mom "I'm Dying" she replied the only way she could that yes he was.  Mom was in tears at times telling me about her long night.  It is hard to see my parents so vulnerable.

When I arrived at 10am Dad was still sleep as he had been since 4am - Mom says this is very unusual.  There is a special feeling in the house.  It is a sacred space as the veil between heaven and earth is very thin for my Dad.  It reminds me a bit of the spirit that accompanies the birth of a new baby but this doesn't have the same feeling of joy.  Mom quickly got in the shower for fear that Dad would wake up any minute.  I would walk past the door frequently to just watch him breathe.  He wears an oxygen mask and seemed to be sleeping peacefully.  Mom told me that she had been doing the same thing - making sure he was still breathing, watching for his chest to rise and fall.  I snapped a quick photo from the doorway.

Dad slept the entire time I was there.   At one point Mom asked Peter to "quietly go check on grandpa" and just make sure he was still sleeping and not awake.  Peter got on his tip toes and quietly went down the hallway to do as he was asked - so cute.   It is the first time since his diagnosis that I have not kissed him goodbye as I left the house - I just didn't want to disturb his sleep.

Days ago I asked mom if she needed anything she replied that she needed a healthy husband.  My heart break at the though of loosing my Dad but I can only imagine how this is for my Mom.  She says that Dad isn't eating or drinking much at all and that he is getting confused.

I am grateful that Dad instilled in me a love of the hymns and that we always sung them.  I find that the words of the hymns come to my mind when I am in need of comfort, encouragement, direction.....or whatever it may be.  The last few days it has been the phrase "Sweet is the peace the gospel brings" (hymn #14)  I am sad to see Dad slowing passing away but know that he is at peace due to his lifelong living of the gospel.

The Robertson Clan and the Violin From Japan

As a small child of four, my memories are vivid only in small places. I remember the feeling of extended family. I remember the feeling of belonging. I remember the feeling of being a part of something big, the John and Edna Robertson Clan. I remember the feeling of anticipation before our summer or Thanksgiving reunions. Some of my later childhood memories include, Grandma Robertson’s homemade sugar cookies and hand sewn beaded Christmas stockings. I remember the funny cousins, the funny Uncle, the Aunt who made divine divinity and which Aunt told the best stories. Camping at Yosemite, zip lines, home made root beer, the first version of Pong, go karts in the rain, swimming on hot summer nights, Rose, rose around the camp fire, hiking, biking through tunnels, rafting down rivers, playing Rook, the Round Robin, hay rides, fasting and praying for Grandpa Robertson when he had his stroke, are all memories of the intense effort and plan to have a united close knit Robertson family.Being the last of Bert and Mary’s Family, my memories are glimpses of established traditions years in the making. I can visualize vague scenes of Christmas mornings, Dad handing out the presents, baby dolls and strollers, caroling on Christmas Eve, swimming in our above ground pool and eating peaches off the tree, diving for pennies, chore lists, Family Home Evening, ice cream at Thrifty’s, and going to church as a family on Sundays and Wednesdays and Thursday mornings and going visiting teaching with my Mom. I do have vivid memories that as our family would gather to kneel in prayer each night, we would pray for the two oldest cousins on their missions, Jim in Japan and Bruce in Hawaii. While those things bond families together, other things bond children to their Dads. Although I do not know the details, somehow, as Jim was half a world away, my Dad had arranged for him to purchase a quarter size violin, perfect for a four year old, me. Dad was working on his master’s degree at SDSU and they needed some trial students for a new way of learning the violin, the Suzuki Method. Dad had a little girl who fit the requirement for the program and I was signed up. I sensed that this was something out of the ordinary. In my world of hand me downs, I actually had my own violin and my own book with a record inside. It was a beautiful violin with a shiny golden honey finish. Each week I would get my violin case down off the shelf. I can still remember the feel of the handle in my hand as I ran to the car. We rode in our white Lincoln Continental with heavy doors. I sat low, there in the front seat with my Dad. I don’t recall what we talked about. I don’t recall how many weeks or months the program lasted, I don’t recall the teacher, I don’t even recall the actual program on campus, but I do know that we took the freeway that had the big curvy ramp before we parked. I got to ride in the car with my Dad, just me. When you come from something as big as the Robertson Clan, the alone time with my Dad was my favorite part and what I remember!From Esther Dernbach

Baptism

  Dad's health had taken a huge nose dive in the last 24 hours.  He no longer wants to or can get out of bed.  He needs help getting to and from the bathroom.  He fell last night when trying to get from the bathroom to his bed on his own.

Haley (Liz and Joe's Daughter) was baptized today.  Dad was there.  Unshaven and looking the worst I have seen him.  He was able to sit in his walker (it has wheels and a small seat) and get around the stake center.   It was a bit of a production to get Dad from point a to b. Rob (Marybeth's husband) pushed Dad while someone else wheeled his oxygen tank.  A thoughtful member of our Stake Presidency (Pres Eppich) removed half a row of chairs from the RS room where the font was so that Dad could see the font.   For Haley's confirmation we placed her chair right next to Dad and he was able to have his hand on her head and be part of the circle.  Daniel (Marybeth's son) was next to Dad in the circle and sat on Mom's knee to fix the height problem since Dad was sitting.  I suspect it was the closest Mom has ever been to being part of a priesthood ordinance - it was kind of funny.

Haley was baptized in our stake center which is 1.5 hour away from her home so that Dad could be there.  We knew it would be too hard for Dad to travel to Kanosh but Springville is less than 10 mins from his home.  Since Jim (my husband) is in the bishopric it made it easy to arrange the baptism and he got to conduct the meeting.

We had lunch in gym at the church. Mom was telling Dad what his choices were for lunch and I suggested that Dad could just skip lunch and go straight for dessert.  He took my offer and had a cookie for lunch.  Mom and Dad stayed for a while but left early.  Mom indicated that they were leaving and made sure that someone could take her stuff to her later.  We realized that Mom would have a hard time getting Dad in the house and settled on her own so Marybeth and Rob scrambled to help - so glad that they are visiting right now.  Rob followed Mom and Dad home in his car.

I can still remember when Dad baptized me as a little girl.  I wanted to wear a dress like my friend did but Dad didn't want to struggle with a dress floating up during the baptism.  Mom put my hair in two braids and pinned them across the top of my head so they would stay put - Dad thought this was such a good idea. We practiced how he would hold my hands so I could plug my nose and how he would gently immerse me under the water.  I can remember being in front of the congregation the following day to be confirmed.  I can remember the weight of his hands on my head and the sweet smile on his face. I love that smile!

It was wonderful to share today with the family.  I suspect it will be the last time I am in a church building with him.  I had a hard time singing hearing the voices of my sisters (Elizabeth and Marybeth).  The Gospel, Ordinances, Covenants, Family - All so sacred.  Feeling very fortunate to have what is most likely one final time to share these things with my Dad.