Sunday, April 26, 2015


There are three instances in my life where the spirit has spoken to me so strongly and repeatedly that I knew I needed to listen. The first time was when Grandpa Loosli was going in for surgery and we were at a family home evening at Uncle Richards house. I felt the impression that I should hug Grandpa extra that night, tell him how much I loved him and sit near him and listen to him tell his stories. I listened to that prompting and gave him a big hug when I was time for us to leave. I told him how much I loved him. He went in for surgery that week and past away shortly thereafter. That was the last time I spoke to him. I was so thankful that I took the time to tell him how much I loved him and to give him a big hug one last time.
The second time was when I was asked to go on a pioneer trek for our singles ward. It was during the summer, I really did not want to go. I kept going back and forth about my decision. I had a strong impression that I should go, it kept coming back and nudging me forward. I kept fighting it and trying to figure out a way to get out of it. Finally I rolled my eyes and accepted to be a parent for the trek.
On the pioneer trek was when I first met and talked to Mike. That meeting and experience led to us dating and eventually getting married, the best decision I ever made. Thank goodness I listened.
The third time was the last time that you and dad visited me and my family in Colorado together. I had a nagging feeling that I should take a lot of pictures, pictures of the kids with you and dad. It was also just before your birthday and I made them a cake. We had the kids sing to you and I took a picture of you and dad in front of your cake. I took pictures of you playing a board game with Sophie and teaching Kennedy had to hand sew the edges of a pillow. You had prepared a whole easter egg hunt for our family since we missed the one with everyone in Utah. I have pictures of you helping Finn find eggs in our yard.  I remember panicking when I had the impression to take those pictures and make the most of the visit, it took me back to when I felt that same way about Grandpa. I didn't want it to mean that something terrible was going to happen. I remember you feeling sick that trip and not eating much. You said your stomach had been bothering you and the doctors couldn't figure it out. I was worried about you. I am so thankful that I listened to the spirit. I'm grateful that I had that precious last visit from you at our home. I'm thankful that I captured some of those sweet moments of you with the kids.


Having a diagnosis that says you will die within a year does something to a person and to those around you.  As soon as I came to the house and saw you, you had already changed so much. You had lost weight but that wasn't the biggest change, you had lost hope. We all had.  I talked to you about why you took so long to tell us, you were diagnosed in April and didn't tell us until the end of June. You said that you didn't know what you were going to do and didn't want us to worry. You said that maybe you were waiting for a miracle but you didn't get your miracle. I think about that all the time.  When I hear about people having beat the odds for the particular type of cancer or going into remission I can't help but get a little upset, where was our miracle? Why did they get to live longer or beat cancer and you didn't? I don't wish those  other people a different outcome, I know that there is a reason that they are still here.  I know that one day I will know why it was that you had to go so early, what it was that you had to do. 

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

To say goodbye

When I found out that you were sick and that eventually the cancer would take your life the first thing that I said to Mike was, "how am I going to say goodbye to my mom?"  I'm still trying to figure that out. It doesn't seem fair to take a mom away from her daughter and yet it happens all the time I know. I knew that you had a big impact on my life and that I was and am lucky to have you as my mom but after you were gone I realized just how much I think of you. There are certain things that only you would understand, or laugh at, or be as annoyed with as me. It's hard to lose that person that is your sounding board in life in a way that no one else can be. You and I are so alike it was always nice to have that one person that I could talk to that would "get it".  I miss you Mom, every single day. I think about you constantly. It's warming up outside and my tulips are popping up out of the dirt and so of course I think of you. You love tulips and would always tell me when your spring flowers started to bloom. I am so glad that there are reminders of you in my day.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

My Mom

My mom passed away on November 25, 2014 from Pancreatic Cancer. She was diagnosed in April of that same year.  It was shocking and fast and an incredibly hard thing to watch.  I miss her very much. I am the only girl in a family, with 4 boys.  My mom and I were always very close, even growing up I never had times when I didn't like her or we didn't get along. We are a lot alike and that is probably why we really enjoyed being with each other. She is my best friend and someone that I always told pretty much everything. As I got married and moved to a different state than my mom she and I started to make lists of things to tell each other. Neither of us like to talk on the phone so we would make a list and then every Sunday we would go over the long list of things we wanted to tell the each other. The list would range from books we had read and loved to funny things we saw on TV to hilarious things my kids or other Grand kids had done.  Since she has passed there have been so many times I've thought of something I want to tell her. I miss hearing her perspective and being able to laugh about the things that only she and I would find funny in the same way.  It's hard to lose that sounding board in your life. And so, for purely selfish reasons, I am going to write letters to my Mom. I want a place where I can write all those things I didn't get to tell her and all the things I still want to say.