Chapter 21: The Harder I Work, the More I Live
Fires, protests, murder hornets. 2020 might as well add kidney stones and my dad dying.
Fires, protests, murder hornets. 2020 might as well add kidney stones and my dad dying.
The week before Dad’s death was a little crazy. It was back and forth with my health issues and Dad’s. It started on Friday, September 18th, when I found myself in excruciating pain on the left side of my abdomen. Over the next few days, I went to both the urgent care and the ER, to get the diagnosis of a bladder infection and kidney stones. I got some heavy duty painkillers and made an appointment with a urologist to get those suckers out.
Late Tuesday night, my siblings and I got an email from my mom, telling us that Dad tripped over a rug and landed hard on his left shoulder and ribs. After watching some tv and taking a shower, the pain got so bad that he went to the hospital. After some tests, the doctor found that there was some minor bleeding from Dad’s spleen, which was a big concern because he was on blood thinners. They decided to keep him in the ICU for a couple days to keep an eye on things.
Of course, we responded to the email by wondering if Dad had walked to the hospital and maybe he forgot his spleen pads.
Yes, my Dad has walked to and from the hospital after surgeries and injuries. Eyeroll. And for several years as he got older and his balance was unsteady, Dad wore knee and elbow pads all day in case he fell. I mean, the man was prepared. He also bragged about “knowing how to roll.”
Also, we knew he was gonna drive the nurses crazy unless they gave him popsicles.
On Friday I had my urology appointment and scheduled a surgery date to blast my kidney stones. Later that day at home, my throat started closing up. Dammit. An allergic reaction to the antibiotics. We called an ambulance and I tried to remain calm while my throat was closing up. I was treated quickly and sent home with a new antibiotic. I was a mess.
And then we got more updates from Mom.
It turns out Dad was a mess, too.
He had been in an ICU room by himself since his arrival at the hospital (only one visitor at a time due to Covid) and was having a really hard time. He was trying to climb out of the bed and walk home. A nurse told Mom that Dad was experiencing ICU delirium and asked her to help calm Dad down. Dad also asked Mom to come be with him several times, but she wasn’t able to every time. The next few days were really hard for him.
On Sunday, Dad finally got the ok to go home. Those lonely days and nights in the hospital really took a toll on him and he was really emotional. He would call for Mom and tell her how much he loved her, over and over again. He leaned on Mom, my sister and a new walker for support and companionship when he came home.
On Sunday evening, we had our usual family Zoom call. Dad was sitting next to Mom, cracking jokes about flirting with the nurses. And then we had a “family medical update” since several of us were dealing with health issues. I seem to recall that my sisters and I argued with Sid about whether or not kidney stone pain is worse than labor.
Even though Dad looked really exhausted, it was so great to see him on the screen.
On Wednesday morning, Dad was feeling sick and weak, so Mom called 911 and then called my sister who lives nearby. She was with Mom as the ambulance drove Dad to the hospital, and sent all of the siblings a text about what was happening. All of us quickly traveled to Springfield to be with Mom and our sister.
The medical team tried to revive Dad in the emergency room. Eventually there was nothing more they could do. They said he probably passed away in the ambulance. Thank goodness my sister and Mom were there together, who then texted that Dad was gone.
Soon we were all by Mom’s side, supporting her and each other.
As soon as we told Mom’s close friends from church about Dad, several of them came over to give their love and offer support. So many people reached out to Mom and asked how they could help, and expressed how much they love Dad. We spent the next few days planning Dad’s funeral service.
And just for fun, I had my kidney stones surgery on October 7th.
On October 9th, the day before the funeral, we had a family gathering at the funeral home for the viewing. It was really emotional and my mom gave a sweet prayer.
Dad used to say that he didn’t want us being all sad and sittin’ around at his funeral. He wanted each of us kids to shake hands with those who attended, and welcome them in a friendly way. So it really was a bummer that his funeral couldn’t be the way he wanted, because of Covid. We had to limit the number of people who attended, and didn’t shake hands with many people. Many friends and family watched the service on Zoom, thank goodness.
It was a beautiful service and tribute to Dad. It started with one of Dad’s favorite hymns as the opening song: “I’m Trying to be Like Jesus.” Two of my siblings spoke and the grandkids sang “A Child’s Prayer.” As Dad wanted, the gospel and the plan of salvation were the focus of the program. The closing hymn was “I Stand All Amazed.”
The printed funeral program included one of his favorite quotes:
I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live.
By George Bernard Shaw
After the service, we drove out to the cemetery. Dad wanted his casket to be brought to his gravesite in his big green 1952 GMC truck, but Mom vetoed that. My nephews drove it to the cemetery and parked it close by.
We stood together in reverence while my brother dedicated the grave and we laid Dad to rest. It was meaningful to have representatives from the armed forces there to fold the US flag and hand it to Mom, honoring the time he served in the Air Force.
I was emotional during those few days, but I was still in that phase where it felt like he was just out in his shop fixing something and surely he would walk in the door at any moment and declare, “I’m home, you lucky people!” The grief came later, during the holidays and milestones without him.
As a family, we reflected a lot on Dad’s life that week and shared our favorite things about him. His life was full of significant experiences, hardships, decisions, triumphs, joys and people that shaped him as a man, brother, husband, father, friend and servant of the Lord.
Dad didn’t grow up in the church. I’m not sure his family went to any church regularly, but they did believe in God. They certainly had some really tough times as a family. One of the most formative experiences of their lives was when they left Iowa after losing all of their money and the farm during the Depression. The Sullivan family packed up an old car-converted-to-camper and set out for California on Dad’s 10th birthday. After several days of traveling, their car broke down west of Salt Lake City and when a relative from California came to their rescue, they had to leave almost everything they owned on the side of the road.
Those Iowa farm boys got picked on a lot and had their fair share of fights on the way home from school each day in Stockton, California. Dad struggled with schoolwork, but his physical strength was valuable on the football field. He played football in high school and college, playing tough matches as an offensive guard in his leather helmet. Football was a lifetime love for my Dad whether he was playing, coaching or watching. Football is practically an eternal principle to him. He gave it his all.
Dad joined the Air Force in December 1950. While in the service, he became good friends with a Mormon soldier. Dad was impressed by his faith and standards. Dad also wanted to live a clean, family-centered life with a gospel foundation and he joined the church in 1955. It was a major life change and once he became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, he never looked back. He was all in with the church.
I remember him telling our family once that before joining the church, he felt like he was under a big black tarp, and he was clawing at it to get out from under it. When he saw the light from the church peeking through the tarp, he clawed his way out and felt immense joy and peace.
The gospel was a beacon for him, especially when he went through some very painful life experiences shortly after he joined the church. His ward family was a great support to him and his bishop recommended that Dad serve a mission. It seemed impossible for a 29-year-old balding divorced man to be called as a missionary alongside a bunch of young 19-year-olds. But soon he had a great desire to serve a mission and was called to the West Mexican mission in 1960 - another significant, formative experience that shaped his faith and membership in the church. Just like joining the church and playing football, he was all in.
Although learning Spanish wasn’t easy for him, Dad was determined to be a dedicated servant of the Lord. We have heard many stories about the kind of missionary Dad was. He was physically strong and a little intimidating, no one could walk faster than him, he taught many people, bore powerful testimony, didn’t like to waste time and he regularly made a big pot of stew that lasted a week.
One of his companions told the story of when he first met my dad, Elder Sullivan. Upon arriving at their apartment, the buff Elder Sullivan sat knee to knee with this greenie and said, “Elder, I don’t know why you came on a mission…but I came here to work. Please don’t get in the way.”
Sometime on his mission, Elder Sullivan met Sister Kearsley (my mom) , a gorgeous, sassy redhead from St. Helens, Oregon. They admired each other and their individual devotion to the work. After their missions, they both went to BYU, dated and then married in September 1964 in the Salt Lake Temple. Another major, life-changing choice. And again, he was all in. He was devoted to Mom and had a great desire to raise a big family, provide for us and teach us the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. He worked alongside my mom to lead our family.
When Mom and Dad found out that my sister Elizabeth was severely intellectually disabled, had epilepsy, and would never mentally progress in her lifetime, they decided that she would stay with us in our home. He felt strongly that Elizabeth was sent to our family for a reason. Dad was devoted to her care: making customized helmets for her head, building a special bed and room for her comfort and safety, taking her swimming with the family at Willamalane, and giving her m&m’s as they sat together on the couch. He was all in when it came to Elizabeth’s care, and together with Mom, cared for Elizabeth until she died in 2015.
Dad taught me about faith, spirituality and devotion to the church. A lot of what he taught was through his example.
I saw him reading his scriptures daily. He bore his testimony often to our family and in church. He taught us the plan of salvation using stick figures on a poster board. We tried to have Family Home Evening and scripture study regularly. He took his role as Priesthood holder seriously. When he gave blessings to us and mom and everybody, he always put on his white shirt and tie.
Dad was absolutely dedicated to the church. He served in many, many callings, including home teacher, young men’s advisor, counselor in the bishopric, bishop, high councilman, bishop’s storehouse volunteer, self-appointed greeter, Book of Mormon gifter and the President of the First Quorum of the Scoundrels. And it seemed that he mowed every widow’s lawn in the city of Springfield.
I learned at an early age from both Mom and Dad that my Heavenly Father loved me, and that I could talk to Him through prayer. That the Savior was my friend. That the scriptures are true. There’s nothing more important than family and serving in the church. Try to be a good, honest person. Even if the church wasn’t true, it’s still the best way to live your life. God said it, I believe it, that settles it.
I am so grateful for all that my parents taught me about spirituality and living a life with a strong belief in God. What a wonderful gift, a spiritual and religious foundation. All the lessons, songs, classes, ward activities, testimonies, temple trips, and scripture stories were such a strong, positive influence in my life.
Although Dad was a spiritual giant in many ways, I have learned since his death that he struggled a lot mentally and emotionally. His journals reflect the same themes: feeling like he was being too lazy, not working hard enough. Convinced that he was dumb. Wondering why God put up with him and his mistakes, his unworthiness. Dad was his own worst enemy. I got the sense that he carried some untold pain, trauma and heartache for his whole life, especially during one of the last times I saw him.
We had a brief conversation before I got in the car to drive home with my family. He was conflicted about something, and questioned if I still loved him. As I reminded him of my love and looked into his eyes, I saw pain there. I don’t know how else to describe it. But there was something in his soul that was unresolved. Even after years of devotion to God, it was still there. As an 89-year-old man. Maybe he knew he was getting closer to death and had some regrets. I don’t know.
I saw that even in a lifetime of devotion to God and goodness, a person can be weighed down by mental and emotional struggles that can be a barrier to feeling joy and love from God. And then I realized that’s me. My life. I don’t know if that’s hereditary, but it doesn’t really matter. I can relate to his pain. Maybe Dad didn’t have the tools and capability to have those deep hurts healed during his lifetime. The same types of hurts that I’ve been trying to heal in myself now.
I hope that when Dad passed to the other side, his untold pain was healed. I hope his self doubts and feelings of unworthiness were swept away in the joy of being greeted by all those who loved and treasured and cheered for him. I hope that he truly feels and knows that he was a great father, husband and friend. I hope that now he is able to fully feel God’s love for him.
I hope that my spiritual healing will sweep away my self doubt, feelings of unworthiness before God and the mental and emotional pain I have dealt with for much of my life.
In the few years before his death, I didn’t talk much about my spiritual struggles with Dad. He knew of Josh’s concerns about the church. He knew I was struggling with being the only member of my family going to church. I think I didn’t talk to him about it much because I didn’t want to disappoint him and Mom, but also I think at the time of his death, my focus was still on supporting Josh through his spiritual journey, not my own crumbling faith.