It's that time again. It's been a few years since William and Catherine got married. But the world has been all abuzz with a new royal wedding. Whatever your opinion of the Royal Family is, you have to be rooting for this couple. If not, you're just heartless.
Like his brother, Harry has just had a tough time. Silver spoons aren't always an indicator of a charmed life. I can't imagine what this family has to endure. The "fishbowl" as I've heard it called.
It took me a long time to get on board with Megan (because Harry is totally dependent on my opinion) (Ok, maybe Harry isn't, but the Queen definitely is) but all I hope for them is happiness.
Best Wishes Harry and Megan,
Love, Your Cousin (who, yes, will be up at 2:00 am watching the entire wedding procession)
Guess what? The blog is back! I have a new computer- donated by a very generous (and crazy) friend whom I love and adore to the ends of the earth and back. I've really missed writing. I don't know if I'll try to go back and blog the last year's worth of stuff, or just start from here... but anyway, I'm back baby!
And it's not an entirely sweet return. Do you know who one of my biggest fans was? My dad. Do you know who isn't around to read my blog any more? My dad. I've been meaning to post for quite a while now, but I haven't been able to find the words.
The most common question that we got from everyone was, "Was he sick?" No. No. It was totally out-of-the-blue unexpected. I mean, he had health issues, sure. But nothing more than any average day. Tuesday he mowed the front lawn, Wednesday he mowed the back lawn. Thursday he went to both choir rehearsals, did some church stuff and watched the ballgame. At 11 that night he came up from his man cave, told my mom goodnight and went to bed. The next morning my mom got up, puttered around doing mom stuff and in the late morning thought, "geez, he doesn't usually sleep this late." Dad would stay in his room and listen to the radio or play on his ipad, but usually he'd come out for breakfast. She went in to see if he was ok...
and he was gone.
Just like that.
When the responders came, they told her it was most likely a silent heart attack. If he felt anything it at all, it was maybe some mild discomfort- but he very likely felt nothing at all and just went peacefully. Everyone says, "well, if you have to go, that's the way to go."
But why did he have to go?
You know, you have conversations through life, which is better? watching someone linger and be sick, but having your chance to make peace with it and saying goodbye, or having them gone suddenly without suffering. Well. I've done both now. They both suck.
Yeah, yeah, he's with my sister. He's with his parents and his brothers... but no goodbye? No warning at all. No chance to make sure he knew I really loved him. He annoyed the hell out of me a lot of the time and often I was pretty short with him. But he was my daddy. I loved him. He tried so hard to give us a good life. And though we didn't take trips around the world or have all the trendiest things, we were well fed (obviously) and we never had to worry about having a place to live.
He was gone a lot when I was a kid. He worked as a traveling salesman and was on the road a week, home a week and had sales meetings in Utah every other weekend. But when he was home, he was there. He played ball with us, teased us and watched movies with us. My first movie memory was going to see Star Trek with Dad and Melanie. He loooooved James Bond and watched it all the time. I remember watching it with him as a kid thinking, I shouldn't be watching this! But I wanted to be with dad.
I don't know about my brothers and sisters, but when he was in town, he'd help coach my softball team. He never missed a game. At least none that I remember. All the way down to his grandkids- if he was around, he was at the game. For my little brother he even traveled the country for games. Same with my oldest niece. He heckled and teased, but he was good guy. He taught us to play ball, tennis, marbles... poker... that was fun. Playing poker with dad. The last time we played was the first time I ever beat him.
When my sister in law, Lisa called me that Friday... I was just pulling up to the order window for lunch. She told me to pull over and brace myself. Okay..?
She asked, "Are you sitting? are you safe?"
Yes.
"Heather. You're dad is gone. He's passed away."
What? My dad? It took a little bit to sink in. At first I thought she was talking about her dad.
She repeated. "He's gone. You're dad is gone."
My dad? Craige Baker?
"Yes. He's gone." I burst into tears. I'm sitting there sobbing in the McDonald's parking lot. She made sure I was ok. I was able to ask what happened. They didn't know at that point. The first responders were still at the house. I pulled myself together and called my boss to let him know I would not be back to work and I didn't know when I would return.
You know, work is work... but I honestly love my job. They have been so good and understanding through this whole thing. They took up a collection for me, signed a card and bought me a beautiful plant. Which I will do my darndest not to kill.
I got the phone call at about 11:15 and I was home- home home- by 2:30. That is some fast moving and driving on my part. I was able to stay home for the week and help my mom. Well, she said I was a help. I didn't feel like I was doing much. I wrote things. That's what I can do. I wrote the death notice for the newspaper. I wrote the social media announcement and I wrote the obituary. As the week progressed and plans came together I wrote the funeral program and my sister's half of the life sketch.
People kept asking me if I was going to speak. Heck no! I wrote the program! I got to call the shots who spoke! Ha! Not me! Just kidding- we all participated. Even my little nephews each had a significant hand in the funeral. The oldest, 12, asked if he could speak. We collected sweet memories from each grandchild and he read them at the funeral. The second grandson actually picked out my dad's casket. That first day when we went to the mortuary to see dad, we wandered around the showroom floor for a bit and my nephew found one and said, "I think grandpa would like that one." This kid is eight. He shouldn't have to think of things like that... but ultimately, it was the casket we chose. When discussing a song for the funeral, we put it to the kids to pick one they knew. The youngest grandson, 6, picked the song Gethsemane. It was honestly the most perfect, and beautiful song they could have sung. Even my almost 4 year old niece knew the words and was able to sing out. It was so special that they were able to contribute so sweetly.
I always knew people liked my dad. He was charming and silly. Kids loved him because he could talk like Donald Duck. I'd forgotten that until people starting talking about it. At the viewing so many people commented about how much he'd helped them and how much they loved him. You know, he was my dad and I was around him a lot- so he got annoying... same jokes over and over (for which I blame him that I am the exact. same. way) but so many people loved him.
His passing came as a shock to everyone. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. But we'd get messages like, "I just saw him the other day at a funeral!" "He was in rare form at choir last night!" just devastating to so many people.
Not many people knew that my dad was in the military- so when we had him all decked out in a flag and had military rites performed at the cemetery, it was very solemn. It was the most beautiful thing and I think my dad would have been tickled pink by it. Usually the honor guard consists of a few veterans who fold the flag, play Taps on a CD and present the flag to the family. Well, like I said, a lot of people loved my dad. There were probably 20 veterans and active duty representatives at the cemetery, saluting as my dad arrived. I already knew I was going to be a mess for this part. So I just kept to myself.
They seated my mom under the awning and made the speeches- thanking him for his service, and her for her sacrifice. My dad may never have seen active duty, but he spent a lot of years in the reserves and that's still a lot of time away from family and serving his country. I can't remember the exact order of things, but there was a gun salute, a live bugler playing Taps (a very good friend of the family- who when he heard it was going to be a recording, asked if he could play), and then the folded the flag and presented it to my mom. The gentleman who took it from the uniformed soldier and presented it to my mom, was another very good friend of my dad's. If I had not been standing directly behind mom, I would not have been able to hear his words. He was so choked up that he had difficulty presenting it to her. After him, a member of each military branch represented knelt before my mom and offered condolences. It was honestly the most beautiful thing. Such an honor to my dad, and a beautiful way to share that with my mom and my family.
When the time came to lay boutonnieres and roses on the casket, I ugly cried. I mean, I'd ugly cried before that several times- but I try not to do that in public. Even my little nephews felt it.
Now that a couple of weeks have gone, I still get teary eyed. I will for a long time. I'll never stop missing my daddy. But the times I think of my nieces and nephews- that's when the ugly cry comes out again. I was really ripped off in the grandpa department. Neither of my Grandfathers were very stellar guys- but my nieces and nephews had a fantastic grandpa. And now they'll go the rest of their lives without him. The littler ones will only vaguely remember him- if they remember him at all. My mom's dad died when I was seven and I hardly remember him. That's what breaks my heart the most. That they don't get to have their grandpa. That is what I find unfair. And there is one who will never even get to meet him...
Stop. I can't even...
So there it is. If you walk by and see me crying in the corner, just throw a tissue at me and walk on by. Don't stop to console- because I'll just feel stupid- just let me cry in peace. It's still just so weird to me that he's gone.
So weird.
So.
Weird.
But thank you thank you thank you- all of those who have expressed love, kind words and serious acts of service for my family. We didn't have to cook for a week! Thank heaven for the Mormons! We had people bring food in, and then more food... and then someone else would come in with food. I've grown up around hundreds of weddings and I've still never seen (or eaten) so much cake. Thank you for the prayers and kind wishes. They really are appreciated- even if we can't acknowledge every single one. Thank you. And thank you to those who will continue to keep track of my mom while I'm not there. I don't think she'll ever even have the chance to get lonely. I hope not.
