I was working from home on Friday, June 16th when a text flashed on my phone: Eric Hill.”Please call me!” I called immediately. When Eric told me that they were taking my dad to the hospital, I instantly knew that he had passed. He was gone. I thanked Eric, hung up, and started crying -- bawling out loud! My dog, Jack, came over and stared at me. He just sat there, as if wondering why I was so sad, as I kept sobbing for the loss of my dad, feeling that intense, paradoxical mixture of grief and joy, sadness and happiness, loss and gratitude. I was so thankful for my dad, as the memories flooded into my mind. I love my dad! I was grateful that he didn’t suffer much. I thanked the Lord for him, and continued crying.
The week prior, we were having dinner and I asked dad what he needed, and he said, “you can get me a white suit!” He was struggling with energy, appetite, and discomfort. He was losing his abilities, even to urinate. He was losing weight and was not looking forward to the treatments for bladder cancer. I was so grateful that I was able to visit him. We have a connection. I am from him. I am him. Occasionally I will walk by a mirror and out of the corner of my eye see my dad. I turn to look, but it’s just me. Now, he got his white clothing, and I mourn the loss, but I look forward to the day when I see him again to have the real bond that I always looked for as a child.
Even though I was expecting him to pass away soon, to me it was still a shock because heroes aren’t supposed to die. He was my hero, he could do anything. One example was when he helped me fix my first car, a Toyota Celica named Jessie. We were both at Grandma’s house in Westwood while I was preparing for medical school, and Jessie started overheating. I put water in the radiator, but she just kept overheating. I drained out all the water, flushed the radiator and filled it with pure anti-freeze, but it still boiled. I could barely go a mile and steam would be shooting out from under the hood. I told my dad about my problem and he said, “It’s probably the thermostat.” Well, I had seen lots of thermostats on the walls of homes, but I had never seen one in a car so in typical adolescent fashion, I didn’t listen. I thought it might be the water pump, so I spent $60 to buy a used one, and a whole day of work taking the old (perfectly good) water pump off and putting the new one on, getting the belts all put back together. I was proud of my work, but the dumb car kept overheating as if I had done nothing! I went back to my dad, and he repeated, “It’s probably the thermostat!” In frustration I asked the key question, “What’s a thermostat?!” He walked out to my car with a screwdriver, lifted up the hood, loosened two screws on a plate in the water hose, pulled out a 2-inch round gadget I had never seen before, and threw it in the trash.”It never freezes here so you don’t need it.” Jesse never overheated again! My dad was a genius! He was my hero!
Speaking of heroes, I like the hero story of Hercules. In the animated Disney version, the infant Hercules is kidnapped from heaven, taken to earth, and made mortal. He is found and adopted by a couple, but he never fit in with his community. So, he left home to find his place in the world, to find where he belonged. He sings:
I have often dreamed of a far off place
Where a great warm welcome will be waiting for me
Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face
And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be
In his search, he goes to the temple and prays, and finds out that he is a son of Zeus, the greatest of the gods. Zeus tells him that he can come home to Mount Olympus if he becomes a true hero. So, Hercules goes out to conquer the world, fight monsters, save people, and become a hero. He then returned to the temple, expecting to be able to be with the gods, but Zeus says he isn’t ready yet -- conquering the world does not make him a true hero, he needs to learn to love.
My dad had conquered the world, but when he lost his superpowers he found out what is real. It was hard to see him not be able to climb a ladder to help us repair his roof a couple of years ago. He was even having trouble pushing a lawn mower. This is not my dad. I learned to shingle a roof in Pico Rivera when I was about 10 years old with my dad, and he could always take care of the yard. Things had certainly changed. Since he could no longer maintain the property, we started looking for a place to live where the upkeep would be minimal. As we looked at apartments and condos, it was obvious that dad and Ulla were not committed to moving. Their people were back at the house, their neighbors were deeply connected with years of mutual service. It became clear that they had to stay at home -- that was where they belonged. Eric and Dean came up with a plan to bring in a gardener to take care of the yard so dad wouldn’t have to, and they could stay in their home. It was not about his abilities, rather it was the connections with those around him. The neighbors that he loved.
Like Hercules, we are all searching for our place, to find where we belong. Ultimately, we are all children of God, the Greatest of all. But we left heaven to come to earth on probation, to be tested. It seems like we need to acquire things, make a living, work in business, and experience things -- essentially conquering the world -- but these are not the real objectives of life. Our purpose in life is not unlike that of Hercules, to become a true hero. Jesus said that there are only two commandments: first, to love God, and the second is like unto it, to love our neighbor. This love is exemplified by the Lord, Jesus Christ, who is the greatest hero ever, sacrificing Himself for the benefit of all, preparing a way for everyone to return to God. This is the gift of grace that Jesus offers to every soul -- a permanent connection with God in His kingdom forever. Obeying Him is keeping the first commandment.
We keep the second commandment and also become true heroes by loving and serving those around us, sharing our time, talents, and what we have and what we are. Listening to people. Being a friend. Forgiving. Connections are made with everyone that we come to know and love. Indeed, the definition of love is to sacrifice yourself for the benefit of others. When Ulla found my dad on the floor with only one shoe on and he wouldn’t get up, she ran to the first place she knew she would find help -- next door to Renee’s house -- and indeed they dropped everything and came. Renee and Kevin and their boys are true heroes to her, and to me.
The more connections we make, the more joy we will have in heaven. The closer our connections, the greater the joy. Jesus advised that we make friends and build up treasures in heaven instead of treasures on earth, and to love even our enemies. We do this by our service to others, building trust, forgiving everyone, and spending time with people instead of with things. Connections are not made on TicTock, You Tube, Facebook, and Twitter. Nor can we become true heroes by acquiring things, or even donating to charities. I walked into my dad’s study the day he died and marveled that he left everything behind. It was the same as it was the week before -- all his “stuff” was still there. Nothing had changed; all his eagles were still there. Only he was gone. As Jim Morrison said, “nobody here gets out alive!” In fact, We are gathered here today precisely to mourn a severed connection.
This is the problem: every relationship we have here is temporary, and will eventually be lost. For this reason the Lord has provided a way for us to guarantee relationships continue forever through the sealing ordinances in temples. This priesthood authority given to man is a gift from God where He assures that those who are sealed to us will remain with us after we die. Husbands and wives can be sealed together, assuring them of the joy of their connection of love forever. Likewise, their children can be sealed to them so that even though they are separated by death, that separation is temporary. The chain goes back to the first couple, Adam and Eve. You can then imagine that this eventually creates a web of connections with everyone linked to everyone else forever. This is the unity, the joy, and eternal happiness of heaven. Joy comes from our connections.
Because he sacrificed himself so Meg could live, Hercules was invited back to Mount Olympus, but realized he would rather stay on earth to be with the one he loved. He said, “A life without Meg, even an immortal one, would be empty.” It’s impossible to imagine happiness, even in heaven, without those we love being with us. This also applies to those who love us, who have lived before us, who will also be cheering for us. The day my dad died my tears were not just for my own sorrow over the loss of my connection, there was also the joy I felt for him arriving in heaven with a warm welcome waiting for him. He is sealed to his parents, Mervin Louis Saunders and Frances Eldeva Christofferson, who are sealed to his grandparents Ephriam Louis Saunders, and Rhoda Pearl, and his grandpa’s parents Demas Ashdown Saunders and Hannah Barwell.
Though I have not yet met Hannah Barwell, I know her because I have her journal. She’s my great great grandmother (Dad makes her “great” once, but I make her twice great!) who joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in England, married Demas Ashdown Saunders, and came to America in 1860. She came from a lush green England, to the eastern United States, which was also lush and green. Then they went to Nebraska, built a handcart and walked with the ninth handcart company to the Salt Lake Valley. After a thousand miles of pulling a handcart across the plains they went over the mountains from Wyoming and were able to see the Valley. This was Zion, they had finally arrived! She ran to look, but when she saw the valley below she sat down on a rock and cried, not for joy, but for disappointment. She didn’t see a lush green valley, but a desert, and knew her struggles had just begun. But she kept going, helped build a dugout home in a hill where she lived out her life, raising ten children, including my dad’s grandfather, Ephraim Louis Saunders. As I read her struggle, I cried with her for joy and gratitude for her faithfulness. I cried for what she couldn’t see, but that I now see five generations later. I know that she carried me in that handcart. I am who I am because of her faith and sacrifice. I know the gospel of Jesus Christ because of what she did, and her children who followed after her. She is my heroine. I am sealed to her through my father, who also remained faithful to the Lord. I’m sure she was there when he arrived for his warm welcome, and cheered when she saw his face.
My connection with my dad is only temporarily broken. I look forward to the day when those connections that I have made are lasting and joyful, when they are real. I will go where he is, and be with my dad, and all my family and friends with whom I have made connections here, and throughout time. I will finally meet, and give a great big hug of gratitude and joy to Hannah Barwell who gave me a legacy through her faith and sacrifice. And, most important, I will fall at the feet of my Lord, Jesus Christ, who came to the world to rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine. He is my connection to everyone and everything else. He will reach down and pick me up and give me a great big embrace of true love. Like Hercules, I will find a warm welcome and finally find where I belong, as my dad before me, to be with my Father in heaven through Jesus Christ in eternal family relationships of never-ending happiness.
