Yesterday, Erik and I loaded our girls into the car, packed a picnic, blankets and warm snow clothes, and braved the elements for a Grand Teton adventure. We drove into the park and followed a bumpy dirt road for an hour until we came to a picturesque fishing spot. It was snowing lightly, flurries of fine cottony flakes... the sky opened as we parked and we were able to enjoy a pocket of sunshine as we ate PB & J and drank hot tea. A strange sort of summer afternoon, bundled in our down jackets... but the girls enjoyed getting out. Elisa has learned to go potty outside, and she thinks it is great fun. We saw a buffalo up close; Elisa has learned all of her wild western mammals and can say "buffalo" with amazing clarity. She also, by the way, knows the caribou live in Alaska with Grandma and Grandpa. :) Sadie is so easy-going; she did great tucked in her fleece suit. She doesn't sleep well in the car, though, so her normally 2 hour nap was only 30 minutes, and we had one tired punkin by the time evening fell.
Erik holding Elisa's head up over the bumps. It kept bobbing as she slept, so he supported her forehead and she stayed asleep most of the dirt road with Mommy driving.
Mr. Buffalo!
Dining Al Fresco along the Snake River. Snow gear in June!
Visiting the park always makes me miss my dad with a fresh fierceness. I have so many memories of summer afternoons spent on Jackson Lake.... I never understood how you can physically ache for missing someone until I lost my dad this year. It hurts. It really does. He was such an incredible man! I am reminded of his character and his legacy every day. And as I miss him and long for my girls to know him, I also hurt because there are so many things I wish I had done or said differently... so many times I was selfish... so many times I had opportunities to show love and I didn't....
Two weeks before he died, Elisa and I (and Sadie in my bulging mama belly) went with he and Mom to Lake Powell. I remember having Elisa nearly asleep in the hotel room when my dad innocently walked in to use the restroom. And I snapped at him. It's funny how those moments haunt me and I wish I had been more deserving of the kindness he gave me all the time.
I had the opportunity to present our memorial scholarship in his honor a couple of weeks ago at an awards night at the high school. I stood up and said, "My name is Colleen Wachob and I am proud to be the daughter of Dr. Alvis Forbes." Before I had finished the sentence, a scatter of applause began that soon grew into a standing ovation as the entire auditorium of several hundred people applauded his memory. I was flabbergasted, and yet I shouldn't have been. Dad touched our family the most, certainly. He loved us so well. But he also touched the lives of countless others... I am so proud of him.
It may not be the best doctrine, but as I was driving through the park yesterday, I thought of how I am comforted by the knowledge that, even though I can't tell Dad all the things I want to tell him, I can talk to Jesus. And my dad is sitting there, worshiping at Jesus' feet. I hope - and believe - that every once in a while, Jesus leans over and tells him, "You did your job well. You are loved. And you are missed." I hope He passes on those messages to him, that Dad knows about his new granddaughter and grandson, that he knows how thankful we are for the time we had with him, knows about the people like Mr. Overly who have expressed how much Dad's loss spurred them to life and heart changes. And maybe, just maybe, Jesus can give him a hug and say, "this one's from Colleen."
