Barry

For me, Thanksgiving comes early in the month of November. November 17th to be exact. It was the first day I checked into the Mission Training Center in Provo Utah, about to embark on the most spiritual journey of/for my life. Everything was perfectly in place until the morning after...

Sister Rock and I were coming in from a big training meeting and saw a post-it on the door that read "Sister Grannis, please call the front office ASAP". I specifically remember turning to Sister Rock and saying "people shouldn't leave notes like this, it could make them worry".

Never at any point on our walk to the front office did I ever imagine to see my Dad there at the end of the wide hall. He should've been on his way back to Washington, not in Utah. But there he was, standing there with what seemed to be blood blisters on the corneas of his swollen eyes. The man with all his straightly aligned posture from years of high status in the Airforce was slumped over in his standing position.

He grabbed me and pulled me in. I remember looking at my companion out of the corner of my eye and wondering if I was allowed to hug males in the MTC?! Were Dads okay to hug? But beyond that my first question wasn't answered. Why was he here and not in Washington?

He didn't let me go. I could barely breathe in his embrace. It was too tight. It was uncomfortable. It was choking. It was suffocating. He was shaking, and like a traveling electrical current, passed the shaking on to me. Clueless, I stood stiff.

"Heavenly Father has called Barry home today, Suzy" he said in a voice much older than his own.

The room spun, and I shook away out of the embrace. This wasn't happening. There I was in my long missionary skirt, my missionary name tag appropriately on the left side of my button-down dress shirt. I was immediately a stranger in a room full of people I barely knew and aside from my father. It was like my equal Librium was off and I could barely think to put my feet in front of me to walk. Was this really happening. Was it.

I was ushered into a room with the MTC president and my Dad, where the foggy details were unfolded. It was still not happening. Wasn't it just 24 hours ago that he sat next to me in the auditorium family/missionary room, where we shared in the song of "Called to Serve" just before family parted to one door, while missionaries through the other on the opposite side of the room? Then howling our old time hound dog howl go back and forth to each other until we'd passed through our designated arches? That hound dog howl that intentionally made everyone look at us like we'd lost our minds, and not even cared. That howl that proved that there were some things only brothers and sisters share, with no obligation to include anyone else in our connection.

The road ahead would definitely be a rocky yet spiritual one as I still sought out my brother's influence in my life, only the connection more distant. I remember coming home from my mission, and dialing Barry's number in my phone just for the high of hearing a ringing sound before the operator's redundant forfeit of "this number has been disconnected". Only to try it again. And then to be out in public settings and see fast glimpses of people walking by and think the next to shuffle through assuredly would be Barry.

Thinking it was so strange to be back from Taiwan where I knew he couldn't be (in the flesh) but was ever more present than any other human influence while in those sacred lands. Then to be home. And to see family, and him not be there. Not be there, not be there not be there. Oh the mourning of a unfilled heart. Oh the unmet expectation.

And every year, the day before Barry's passing date I think of all things I'd like to say to him. I think of the uncherished and all too casual embrace before I left. Oh how it should have been longer. Longer longer longer. The howl, it should have been louder louder louder. As to make everyone surrounding even more uncomfortable, and to prove to Barry that I loved him more than those missionaries that could judge me thereafter. My Barry My Barry My Barry.

And so, in my heart, Thanksgiving comes on November 17th, the day I took advantage of a complete family on the earth at the same time. True, we will all see the death of those we love so much. But let us love and cherish with the deepest of gratitude those whom Heavenly Father has given us. Let us be a little more kind, a little more dedicated, a little more forgiving. Because you never know when your favorites will be taken from you.

*** Side note... I have a firm testimony of seeing my brother again. I really do. I taught it for 19 months in Taiwan on my mission, and continue to. And each time I do, I get a little slice of heaven, a little slice of influence from this brother of mine. He feels right there in attendance everytime I talk about the great plan Heavenly Father's prepared for families. The phrase Families Can Be Together Forever is real.