The funeral and the days before and after!

January 28, 2016 

I mentioned in my last week's blog entry that the days following Mom's death felt strange. I can't hardly even explain what I felt in those days but I felt different, a little numb and out of it. I didn't sleep well as I woke every morning around 4 or 5am and could not shut my mind off. Life continued on mostly as normal here at my house, with the kids going to school as usual, and to piano lessons and to basketball practices etc. but I didn't feel like my normal self. I guess it felt strange to me that we, and those around me, could possibly be going on living a regular old life when my Mom, my beloved Mom, a person so precious to me, had just passed away! It didn't feel right that life go on as usual!

Last week was spent clearing clothes and belongings out of Mom's closets and drawers and dividing them between all the girls in the family . . . and writing talks and making viewing and funeral preparations. I spent a lot of my week collecting photos and arranging them into a video to be played at Mom's viewing on Sunday night and Monday morning. My son Tanner helped me a lot with that and I don't know how I would have done it without him! Although it caused me to shed many tears as we put the video together, it was very therapeutic for me! The video will be an awesome keepsake for years to come! Click the link below if interested in seeing this video of Mom and all of us through the years . . .

Merrilee Tanner Preece video played at her viewing

At Larkin Mortuary, Saturday January 23, 2016

 Me, two of my sisters, my two sister-in-laws and two of my aunts had the the special opportunity last Saturday of going to the mortuary and dressing Mom into her temple clothes, touching up her make up and making sure her hair and everything looked good. I also made sure she had a kleenex in her pocket as she always made sure that she had one tucked in her sleeves by her wrist or in her pocket. :) We have found many a kleenex in all her coats, pants etc.  

She looked simply beautiful! As expected, it was a difficult and teary experience, but so special at the same time. I am so happy that we were able to have that sacred and precious time with her!  

To be honest, the week earlier, when my Mom was still hanging on, I wondered if she should even have an open casket? She was so thin and her cheeks appeared to be so sunken in and I wondered if we should protect her in that way and have a closed casket? No one agreed with me and I'm glad that they didn't! I ended up being pleasantly surprised. Mom looked amazingly beautiful and I think she would have been very pleased.

The funeral was this past Monday and I thought it was a beautiful and perfect service for her! I like to believe Mom was there in spirit and I'm sure she was very happy with how all of it turned out . . . the music, the talks and the people who were there to honor her! It touched all of us so much to see the hundreds of people that came to show their love for us and for my Mom! I kept thinking that it was so fun to see all these people that we love and hardly get to see, but yet it was sad that it had to be under such circumstances!

I was happy with myself that I was mostly able to control my emotions during my talk . . . and I loved all of the talks . . . my Dad's and 3 of my siblings spoke with me . . and Paige did a great job reading the obituary that her and my Dad wrote, with her few additional comments. The funeral was recorded by the mortuary people and they said we would be getting copies soon, but I thought today I would include the first talk given by my Dad . . . . it so was insightful and honest and interesting! I've always loved my Dad's talks! 

I'll include the other talks later...

Funeral Thoughts by Dad . . .

Graveside family prayer after the funeral

            I think it’s a bit unusual for a bereaved spouse to speak at a funeral. But I would like to speak briefly because there are just a few things I feel I must say. I should say “try to say” because I know I don’t really have the capacity to fully express the emotions I’ve felt during the past weeks and months.

            In early July of 2003, Merrilee and I returned from our mission in England. It was about then that I began to notice that things were changing with Merrilee. When I mentioned this timeline to my children, they said, “No, you’re wrong, dad.”  They had noticed something was amiss eighteen months earlier when Merrilee returned to Salt Lake for my son Mike’s wedding.

Dad and the 6 of us kids!

           For all of her adult life she had repeatedly expressed the fear that she might one day develop “the same disease my dad had.” For eight or nine years after we returned from England, the progression of her disease was very gradual. During these years Merrilee largely denied that anything was wrong, though she required therapy for some anxiety that was doubtless one of the early manifestations of her disease. About three or four years ago, she was compelled to admit to herself that something was wrong. At that time, she was capable of a cruel insight into her condition, and with that insight came the realization of what lay ahead. Life then became something of a nightmare for her. During those months, she suffered literally daily―more than I can easily express to you. It was very difficult for me to watch, but my suffering was nothing compared to hers. She progressed rapidly during these last two or so years, but it has been a tender mercy that she has lost that insight and was not as tortured as she had been.

6 of the 21 grandkids

            I salute Merrilee as a woman who was called upon to endure a nearly insufferable hell as she watched her disease progress, and as she anticipated what her future would hold. She is certainly not alone in having to endure this experience. But it surely must be among the most agonizing experiences that mortality has to offer any of us. I will never look upon those suffering similarly without feeling deeply for them.

            I’m afraid I must admit to a significant weakness in my own character during the years I was her primary caregiver at home. As I struggled with my daily routines along with some expected frustrations and difficulties, it was difficult for me to truly maintain and feel the true perspective of just exactly what Merrilee was like before her illness began. You might well groan at the injustice of my failure, but I’ve come to know that others of us in analogous situations share this same weakness.

Our whole gang!

            About two months ago I―in one specific moment―paid, in a way, the price for my insensitivity. And I will never forget that moment. One early morning I was prayerfully contemplating Merrilee in one of my 3 AM meditation sessions. All of a sudden, a true perspective of Merrilee came flooding into my mind. I have come to believe this might have been a sort of divinely orchestrated, punitive intervention. I believe Merrilee’s true self was revealed to me in the form of a sudden avalanche of graphic, poignant memories. I particularly came to realize just what she had been suffering. And I saw that awful agony imposed on the pure, wonderful person she always was. I’m embarrassed to admit that I sobbed like a child there in my bed. 

            Merrilee was a beautiful, gentle, sensitive, practically guileless individual whose “arrows” and attentions were turned outward to others―except, perhaps, when she was on the tennis court. For me was a constant standard and counselor as to how I should live my life. She never harbored the slightest misgiving about the truth of the Church. I had to laugh several days ago when her older sister Deanne shared with me a brief anecdote. Deanne is three years older than Merrilee and this happened when Merrilee was about twelve.  Deanne reported to me that she graphically recalled a time in her bedroom when Merrilee had just been made aware of a few of Deanne’s teenage foibles. These apparently did not come up to Merrilee’s standard, and she recalled Merrilee’s standing with her hands on her hips and saying, “I just can’t stand people who don’t take their religion seriously.” That orientation to the gospel persisted all her life, though her expression of it took on a gentler and more patient tone.

My niece, Ashley

           Merrilee was solid and unbending regarding how we ought to deal justly with those around us. I sought her out regularly regarding advice on interpersonal and social matters.   When I regularly shared my most intimate thoughts, experiences, and misgivings with her, she often corrected and counseled me. But she never failed to somehow make me feel better about myself. I truly love her and depended abjectly on her completely reliable advice. I have truly missed that rich communication experience during the many years of our marriage.

            Carolee Harmon recently shared with a poem her daughter Holly had written about Merrilee several years ago when Merrilee was released as the ward Young Women’s president to serve as a counselor to the stake Young Women’s presidency. Holly was one of the Young Women in the ward at that time. I will not read the poem, but a few of its phrases caught the essence of Merrilee. Holly observed, “She’s neat, exciting, fun. She has a way to make you feel you are number one.”  Holly also wrote, “She’s touched us by her spirit” and “She’s clearly our role model.”

            I wanted also to express my profound appreciation for the literally hundreds of instances of charity you have extended to Merrilee and me during these past several months. I won’t mention any names because there have been so many, but you know who you are. I have truly been taught several powerful lessons in charity. I have not failed to notice that during this period of time, some of you have been unbelievably thoughtful at a time when I was aware that you had problems of your own. Yet somehow you’ve been able to extend yourselves beyond yourselves and attend thoughtfully to Merrilee and to me. I remember Elder Neal  Maxwell’s once saying, in his uniquely  poetic way:  “Empathy during agony is a portion of divinity!” (“The Women of God,” Ensign, May 1978, 10).

My family!

        I’ll share with you just one other brief anecdote that has deeply moved me. During the final few days of Merrilee’s life, I knew that she was going to die soon, but we didn’t know when. We all gathered around her bed on the day before her death, thinking it was going to be in an hour or two. By that afternoon, she had rallied. A few in the family wanted to spend the night in her room in the care facility because they didn’t think she should die alone. Being a bit more pragmatic, when evening came I insisted that they all go home to sleep. The next day, Monday, she was still persisting. My daughter Paige and I arrived at her bedside about 11 o’clock or so the next morning. To my surprise, I found one of Merrilee’s long time dear friends already there. I’m going to leave out this friends name for the sake of her own privacy. After spending an hour with Merrilee, I suggested we (Paige, Merrilee’s friend, and I) go get some lunch. During lunch, Merrilee’s friend asked me, “What would you say if I were to spend the night in the room with Merrilee?”  I discouraged her, saying that there was no good place there to sleep, and, anyway, we didn’t know when Merrilee was actually going to die. I thought I had talked her out of the idea.

            Later that night, after arriving home from an event at about 9:30, Merrilee’s friend called and said, “I’m here holding her hand, and she has just quit breathing.” Paige and I hurried out to the care facility. Merrilee’s friend was still there, and I saw in the corner of the room the things her friend had brought with her. There was a pad, a blanket, a pillow, and some crocheting materials. In spite of my advice, she was planning to spend the night sleeping on the floor.

Mom's siblings and spouses, minus Rick and Jan (on mission)

            A couple of days before Merrilee’s death another long-time friend drove 240 miles to Merrilee’s bedside and played her violin for Merrilee for over an hour, though Merrilee was essentially in a coma. She then drove back home the same evening.

            I could talk for a long time, but I won’t. Let me just leave a short verse of scripture with you. I suspect it is a verse that you’ve never paid any attention to. In fact, you may not recall ever having heard this verse. But it has become profoundly important to me personally, particularly as I have dealt with Merrilee’s problems. It is Galatians chapter 4, verse 6. Paul wrote:  “And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your heart, crying, Abba, Father.”  “Abba” is a familiar form of “father” meaning something like “dad.” You might wonder why this verse is even pertinent to me. It is that for some months now, I have noted that when I’m apprehensive and unsure and in need of a confidant, I frequently find myself silently and repeatedly saying, “Father!”  This often happens several times a day spontaneously and without my really understanding why. I’ve decided it’s sort of a prayerful plea for help.

7 of the grand kids at lunch after the funeral

            I truly love Merrilee, and I pray she will still love me when I meet her again. Some of you know me well enough to know of my testimony. I know with all my heart that this mortal place is not our real home. It’s not our real life. That one follows this one and lasts forever and will be truly exciting. I so look forward to spending it with Merrilee.

Of course Mom will still love my Dad!  I have no doubt!  I'm sad that he even questions that!

The days after . . .

These days after the funeral have mostly been good for me, as I have felt at peace for the most part. I still find myself having small episodes of sadness as I have had all along the way during these last 14 years, but these episodes only last a minute or two at a time. I would imagine that it will be this same way throughout the rest of our lives where we catch little glimpses and reminders of her along the way and miss her terribly. The reality of the situation hits at the most random times! 

As my transition back to normal life has been pretty smooth since the funeral, I think it has been a different story for my Dad, and maybe for my older sister too. I believe the funeral for my Dad was a huge reminder of the way Mom used to be, and he is now mourning the loss of the real her, the person she was before this disease all started! "I remember more now than ever what I am missing!" he told me. He mourned over his wife in the care center and the wife he struggled with for the last number of years, but now his memories have been refreshed and I think he's struggling more now than before. Ughh! It's so not fun to watch family members be sad and I hope things get easier for them quickly! 

Paige, my older sister's life has centered so much around helping and serving my Mom in the last years, alongside my Dad, that I think she is really feeling the void also right now.  I pray that I can help her fill that void somehow!    

I am super busy in my life right now as we have just a few weeks to get one of my son's ready to leave on his mission. He leaves in less than 3 weeks and we have a lot to do! That has been helpful to keep my mind in other places. 

People continue to bring and send flowers and gifts and notes . . . we are all blown away at how kind and thoughtful and empathetic people are. Thank you again for your love, care and concern for us!

Finally, there's a small part of me that feels totally robbed of my mother, as she was taken younger than most, but then the other part of me knows that this is just life, our lot in life and this is just what happens sometimes! We should expect the unexpected, be ready for hardship, remember the bigger picture, keep our heads up, and be grateful for the blessings in our life! I am so thankful that I have been blessed to have Merrilee Tanner Preece as my Mom and I will strive for the rest of my life to keep her memory and legacy alive!

Miss and love you, Mom! xox