Saturday, May 25, 2013

Daren's Letter - May 25, 2013

So my darling, out of my need to know, I went to the medium.  When she asked what I would like to happen, I told her, I would like to talk to you.  She could have told me any number of things and I would not have known the difference but she was kind enough to tell me "Your son's energy level is very low.  I'm having a hard time getting through to him.  He's telling you "I'm so sorry, Mom."

Honey, I know that part of this thing we call life and death, comes a part where we need to account for our actions in this life.  All of do.  All of us will.  But oh Daren, I don't want you to be sorry for me.  I don't want you to feel guilt because of me.  You see my darling, handsome son, I know you.  I know you would never have done anything to intentionally hurt me.  Any pain I was caused, was caused by your addiction and not by your soul, not by my son.  You made me happy.  You made me laugh.  You made me feel secure.  You made me feel loved.  You don't need to feel guilt towards me honey.  But if in the scope of things I need to tell you I forgive you, then my boy, I forgive you.

"He's mentioning a white rabbit," the medium said.  "Do you know the significance of a white rabbit?"

Out of all of our 46 years together on this earth, you mentioned the white rabbit.  Why?  What is important about a white rabbit with a broken leg that you found tangled in a hedge and brought home to me.  You were on your way to elementary school, when you found it.  You brought it home and we took it to the vet and had its leg set.  I have pondered the last ten days as to why this was so important to you; or is it because it is important to me?

During my life, I hope that I have done good deeds.  I hope I have done many, but I'm not certain if any were done without some form of bitterness or complaint or "why me" attitude.  The only one I can think of now that you mention it, was the white rabbit.  It wasn't an inconvenience to take that white rabbit to the vet.  It wasn't an inconvenience to pay $75.00 to get its leg set.  It wasn't about me in anyway.  It was about the white rabbit. 

Were you trying to let me know that somewhere in my life, I did an unselfish deed, or were you trying to let me know how important it is to do unselfish acts.  Our white rabbit will no longer just be a memory to me, Sweetheart.  It will be a learning aid that I will try and use throughout the rest of my walk in this life.  From this day forward, the memory of the white rabbit will become the parable of the white rabbit. 

The medium didn't charge me for her intervention.  "You wanted to talk to your son, and I couldn't make that happen," she said. 

You weren't able to use your energy to speak with me, but you pulled as much energy as you could muster together to remind me of the white rabbit.  It must be so very important.

The medium said you were surrounded by spirits that were protecting you.  I don't understand what it is all about.  I won't pretend to.  I will take solace in knowing that wherever you are, there are those who love you enough to surround you with their love; to protect you as I would if I could be with you. 

I love you Dare.  I miss you more than words can say.  Thank you for bringing home the white rabbit; for enabling me to do something Christ-like.  "For if you have done it unto the least of these, you have done it unto me."

Sweet Peace My Darling Son.


Monday, May 13, 2013

Daren's Letter - May 13, 2013

Hi Sweetheart:

You've been heavy on my mind the last few days.  Mother's Day was a little empty without getting your call.  I miss you honey.  I'm so glad I was chosen to be the one you would call Mom. 

My gosh Honey we walked a bumpy road.  Didn't we.  Looking back and with 20/20 hindsight, had God given me the chance to bow out of the problems that your addiction presented me, I would do it all again because of the man you were beneath the addiction.

There are times my darling that I feel guilty.  I know.  If you were here, you would tell me I have nothing to feel guilty about.  Your siblings will do the same.  But all the "what ifs" seem to creep into my mind.  What if...

When you moved to Alaska, I was so happy to see the pictures Haley and Jereme posted on Facebook.  Pictures that showed you and your boys with your fish you'd caught.  You put on weight and would joke that you were becoming a real "Whiting" because you had.  And the rest of us would joke that it was time you realized what carrying extra weight was all about and be able to empathize with the rest of us.  But you looked so wonderful in the pictures.  Gone was the gaunt, even though your being gaunt still left you so handsome.  But when you got to Alaska, you looked so healthy and happy and well.  And that presents one of my "what ifs".

It was after we moved there with you, you searched out your drugs again.  What if your Dad and I had not come to Alaska, had not moved in with you.  Did our presence unearth feelings that you had started to bury.  Was it a memory that we carried with us that would haunt you again.  I know my darling boy.  You are telling me "Stop it Mom."  But the truth is, your emotional foundation had been weak.  It had been for many years.  I guess you now know the complete truth.  Had we not moved to Alaska and moved in with you, would you have continued growing and holding your addiction at bay. 

I can't change anything now honey.  I can't change your dad dying.  I can't change it was you who found him and tried to resuscitate him.  I can't change a darn thing.  Oh God Honey.  Had it be in my power to do so, I would.  I would change so much.  "If wishes were fishes, we'd all have a fry, your grandma Sophia would say.  But I can't change a thing, so I just sit here with my regrets and wonder what if.

And so to preserve my own sanity, I will sit aside my "what ifs."  I will replace them with my memories.  I will remember my young tow-head little boy, my handsome grown son.  I will remember how much you loved me and how much I love you.  I will remember how you loved my Spanish rice, lemon jello, apple cake, potatoes and onions and everything else I cooked.  I will remember you telling me that you wanted me to bequeath to you my recipe box and you didn't want me to rewrite my apple cake recipe even though it was so worn it was hard to read in places.  I will remember your telephone calls asking my advice on anything from doing your laundry to a girl you were dating.  I remember you loved the smell of Gain laundry soap.  I will remember your words of wisdom you handed down to your sons.  "Wrap your hammer before you slam her."  That one is a classic along with your teaching Vinnie the secret to a good worker is "head down, ass up" because that is how a real hole was dug. 

I'll recall your taking me out to dinner at the Italian Restaurant on College Road and how you ate my pasta and I ate your beets. 

I'll remember how long it took you to shower.  (That you passed on to your sons.)  And how good you always smelled. 

I'll remember your quick wit.  And I will remember how much you loved your family.  I will remember your blue Chevy truck and hunting elk up Dry Fork Canyon.

I will be happy that everyone of our telephone calls were ended with you saying "I love you, Mom." and my saying "I love you."

I'll love you forever, I'll love you for always.  Forever and ever my baby you'll be.

I'm glad you have peace now my darling boy.


Monday, May 6, 2013

A Letter to Danny - May 6, 2013

Hi Honey:

It's one of those days.  I got up and got busy believing it would make me feel better, but guess what honey.  Some days that just doesn't work.  So I rely on what I've always relied writing and you. 

I went to your nephew's wedding reception on Saturday.  I signed the card Danny and Susie Whiting.  It will always be Danny and Susie Whiting, Honey.  You are still linked to me with a fine silver filament.  When I close my eyes, I can almost see it linking your soul with mine. 

It's springtime here.  The blossoms are out and green is taking over.  Rainee and I drove to Heber last week.  We went to the cemetery and I showed her where we will be laid to rest.  Unfortunately, my darling, you will not find rest until I am laid with you.  We are having our headstone set and Daren's also.  He will be next to us.  I knew in my heart Honey that is how it would be.  There would be you and our son and myself.  Although your urn sits on my dresser next to my bed, and although Daren's is in Alaska with his boys, we will go ahead and have the headstones set so our children will have a place to go when they want a place to place flowers or send off balloons or simply sit on the grass and talk to you and Daren.  Then when the day comes that I'm allowed to come to you, our children will bury us together.

I remember as a child, I was afraid of death.  The thought of the world coming to an end, was a constant threat to my mind.  With age, Honey and with love that is not the case anymore.  Now, it seems as though this place called life is so long; so long until I'm with you again. 

I had a talk with Mark the other day.  I told him, "Honey, I think when your dad passed away, you and I were thinking with our emotions instead of with our minds.  At the time your dad left, what would you have thought had I came to you and said 'What do you think of my living with you for the next fourteen years?  For it might be I live that long.'  At the time, I don't think you and I were thinking of what we were setting you and your family up for.  Honey, my living with you and your family is not set in stone.  I can make other arrangements."

And our son told me I thought too much.  He told me it wouldn't have mattered had I told him that or not that I would still be welcomed in his home.  How blessed I am to have such a son here with me. 

Then my darling I remember my last conversation with you.  I told you when I got back to Alaska from Utah, I would find us our own place to live.  I worried we were taking too much of an advantage with Daren.  You told me on our last talk, "Don't worry.  A lot of things can happen between now and then."  Did you somehow know you wouldn't be there when I returned home.  Did you somehow know that in a short year later, Daren would not be there either? 

Perhaps Mark is right.  Perhaps I do think too much.  I've always liked having things in order and perhaps what I've learned is that "my order" might not be God's. 

So for now my love, I am going to take things a day at a time.  I don't know what will come to be tomorrow or next month or next year.  I really have no control after all.  The river of life continues to flow.  Sometimes I float in a gentle current, softly and smoothly and then, I hit the white caps and all I can do is hold on tight, pray and try to keep my faith.  I am thankful I have had you and our children to keep me in the raft.

I miss you Honey.  If you were here today, we would get in the car, stop and get a Pepsi and go for a drive up the canyon.  We wouldn't go fast.  We would pull to the side of the road and let those in a hurry pass us by and then continue as I would hear you say, "They are in such a hurry, they don't see anything."  And it would be true, for it would be you that spotted the deer, or elk or woodchucks.  You would see a dried tree stump and picture what you would be able to chainsaw carve out of it.  We would find a place to pull over and roll down the windows and smell the pine or sage.  Now that you are gone Honey, I try to make a point to look at life the way you did.  I try not to hurry so quickly I miss what is going on around me. 

Friday, Mark said he wished he had you and Daren to talk to.  He wanted to talk to you and Dare about the work he had lined up.  I recognize how hard it is on him not to have you and Daren around.  When push came to shove, he always knew he had his dad and brother at his back. 

Thank you Honey for listening to me.  You've done a lot of that in our lifetimes haven't you?  I miss you honey and I love you with all my heart.

Far Beyond the 12th of Never.