A Snowy Friday Memory

Headline today:  Snow.

That was the regional headline 11 years ago on this day---a Friday---as the first blanket of snow hit the area.  It was to be the first of many white blankets that covered the ground that winter.  Seemed like it snowed continuously for weeks afterward that year.

The headline 11 years ago on this day in our family:  our dad had passed away.  

Seems we never forget the details of such days.  

Our family had all gathered from Idaho, Washington and Montana after a week of coming and going from their homes to Sacred Heart Hospital, supporting our mom and supporting each other as doctors monitored the Harold's condition following a heart attack. 

Probably none of us will ever forget those nights spent in the family visitors' lounge where we did everything manageable to find some physical comfort on those couches and chairs to grab a few Z's.  

Those who found sleep early were the lucky ones.

As they snored, some of the rest of simply dreamed of how nice it would be to sleep. 

After Harold passed away early in the morning, we all had breakfast at the hospital cafeteria and then headed home.

If I recall correctly, that was the day Barbara slid off the road, and that was the morning that Laurie watched me from the back seat of our car, constantly watching me contorting my body in an effort to stay awake as I drove.

I think I made it to the Rathdrum area before someone else took over the driving duties. Nothing---even if there had been a snorer right next to my ear---kept me from drifting off into a deep slumber for the rest of the trip home.

That day changed our lives as it does for all who have lost a close family member for the first time. 

We've had another similar situation more recently with the loss of our mother.  Our memories are of events of that July morning are very different but no less painful. 

This morning, we have only about an inch of snow on the ground, and it is very pleasant outside after several days of cold, frigid air.

Almost balmy, I'd say, but that snow is there to remind me that winter has arrived, maybe not on the calendar, but in a very tangible way. 

And, the calendar says Nov. 21.  The date serves as a tangible reminder of our dad's last day here on Earth.  

Fortunately, we also have and enjoy a multitude of other memories of his days leading up to that snowy Friday----the well-honed tales around the kitchen table, the roll-yer-owns, the tractor scenes in hay fields on the upper and lower farms, the milk house at the "Upper Place" where Harold had lots of tools, a stove and a bed for snoozing. 

We'd also occasionally catch him snoozing in his pickup as he sat in the driveway next to the milk house, probably thinking about farm projects on the land below before drifting off to a good nap. 

Harold tinkered a lot in his milk house and in his two shops down at the Boyer Farm.  He knew how to fix things, and if at first he didn't, he spent time problem solving until the fix-it project succeeded.  He was brilliant with his hands.  

It would be an extreme understatement to say that Harold knew and loved horses. Probably the greatest title we ever bestowed upon him besides "our dad" was "horseman." 

In our family, there's a difference between people who simply own horses and those who have earned the distinction of "horseman," and I can tell you that the latter is supreme. 

In Harold's mind, owning horses meant not only to enjoy them but also to treat them with respect, never to abuse them and always to provide them with the best care possible. 

And, so on this Friday, Nov. 21,  with the season's first thin blanket of snow, I'm sure family members, wherever they may be, will be taking some time to think about Harold and all those memories, the never-ending story telling and the guidance that will always keep him alive in our minds. 

Happy Friday.