The memories and feelings from my childhood came and go like waves. Sometimes I can go weeks without thinking much about any of the details, and other times it feels like the details hit me hourly. I don't know what brings them on or pushes them away, but it can be overwhelming when they are around.
Something that no one in my family appreciates is the sadness of losing a family member. John has never lost anyone close to him, nor have my children, but losing my dad at a young age and losing my grandparents as an adult is heavy. In fact, if I could've chosen who I would lose of my few relatives, the three of them would've been the last choices. Isn't that insane how fate works? Of the four grandparents my children have, the three living grandparents are manipulative, or narcissists, or have borderline personality disorders. Not my dad though--he was emotionally stable, good-hearted, and interested in my welfare. And of the six grandparents I have, my g-parents loved me like parents, but they were outlived by two others. I'm thankful that Ethan at least has some memories of them.
Occasionally, I wish my family would appreciate how difficult it is to have lost my dad. I can't even imagine what it would be like to have a parent who would reach out to me, or who would care about me, and the idea of having a male family figure in my life blows my mind. John is everything our family needs, but I don't come from him. He doesn't represent me, and we certainly don't act the same. My dad only turned the TV on once when I visited him for two weeks. He was about conversation, and hobbies, and interests, and flying, and ham radio, and cars, and music, and math, and just being there. I desperately cling to the memories I have with him because I come from him. I remember when he took me up in the glider, and he was so calm.
What a tragic loss for me and for my siblings.
I'm thankful though for the spiritual moments I've had when the veil has been thin. When President Lund gave me a blessing in the temple and told me that I would be aware of family on the other side of the veil, and I had a vision of my dad only days later.
And I'm thankful for President Cameron.
President Cameron was recently called to the temple presidency (along with remaining the patriarch of the Ann Arbor stake). He was the stake president when John and I were married, and his wife was my young women's leader. I grew up with his two oldest daughters.
For some strange reason, President Cameron loves Johannah, and maybe by connection, he loves me as well. He's commented on Hannah's beauty too many times to even count, and he always reaches out to the two of us, either touching our arms or hugging us.
A couple of weeks ago though, he casually announced to the office staff that he was told he was no longer allowed to initiate hugs in the temple. He said it with a smile, but I know it goes against who he is.
My best version of myself is in the temple. Sometimes I'm even amazed at how loving and friendly I am there. It seems that without the insecurities and shackles of the world, my true self shines through. As I was leaving the office the other day after having worked with the Camerons that afternoon, I walked over to Sister Cameron, hugged her and told her I loved her, just like I would with one of my kids. She hugged me right back and told me she loved me too. Then, I walked straight over to President Cameron and hugged him as well. I never give side hugs, but for that moment, I did. And I crouched down so that my head could rest against his chest. And in that moment, I think the veil was thin again because I had the feeling all through my body that I was hugging my dad. It was the sweetest little moment for me. President Cameron is about the same age my dad would be if he were alive, and he's thin like my dad was. It was just the sweetest, most tender mercy for me, and I felt so comforted, imaging that he could be my dad. He held me and again announced that because I had initiated the hug, it was okay ;-)
So where my family can't comfort me with the loss of my dad, and where I have no replacement for what my dad could offer me, I was given a moment of peace and comfort in the temple where I had a small glimpse of eternity. Someday I will get the hug from the real deal, but in the meantime, I sure am thankful for yet another temple blessing.
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