There are many things that were Dad. Give him a grill and/or a Dutch oven and you would have an amazing meal. Give him a rope and he would teach you to repel. Family history, history, or patriotism all brought a smile to his lips and joy to others. He was never afraid to say what he felt was right even if it maybe wasn’t what the person wanted to hear. I always felt loved in his presence right down to the last day of his life when he couldn’t talk at all, as I said hi to him, he patted my back and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I love you Daddy!!
I am sorry to hear about Uncle Oliver passing, but glad he is not in pain anymore.
A few weeks ago, I was going through my mission photos and forgot about crossing paths with Uncle Oliver on our way to a devotional at BYU from the Provo MTC. It made my day to see someone I knew and grateful he found me in the sea of missionaries crossing the street. I’m sending you the picture in this email. This is from summer of 2013 (sometime between June 26-July 9).
I will always remember Uncle Oliver playing the guitar upright at the campfire in the wood lot at Grandpa and Grandma’s in Mapleton as we would sing songs with the sound of children playing in the background.
For the last several weeks, when I have gone to work in the Denver temple on Wednesdays, I have put Uncle Oliver, Aunt Sandy and the family on the prayer roll. Grateful for the extra time he was able to have but that he is not physically hurting anymore – maybe he’s going cartwheels right now with Grandpa (Frank).