Preludes & Reminders

As I compose this post, it has been one month and one day since the fateful day we lost you son. As I reflect upon that day and the weeks that have followed, I find myself filled with a wide range of emotions. As your mother can attest, I've never been a very emotional person. To the contrary, I've considered the ability to control one's emotions a sign of maturity and strength. Yet since your passing I find that there are times when my ability to control my feelings is wholly inadequate. This fact is complicated by the numerous and powerful reminders of you that seem to fill every aspect of my life. It seems that there is nowhere I can go without seeing or hearing something that reminds me of you. I've found no activity or work that doesn't recall you to my mind. Indeed, some days it feels like everything reminds me of you...and your absence.

While I would normally cherish the moments I have to remember you, I find that many times these moments of remembrance so consume my attention and focus that they totally inhibit my ability to function. It's as if during these moments my mind checks out and everything around me seems to disappear, leaving only my thoughts of you and the heartache that your departure has left with me.  During these episodes of mental incapacitation I've found that the Spirit often speaks to me in very distinct and powerful ways. As a result, I've remembered and learned much. I provide one such example.

One of the most powerful spiritual experiences I've ever had came as I was preparing to serve as a full time missionary. From the time I decided to serve a mission I had dedicated my life to learning the gospel and becoming a worthy instrument in the Lord's hands. In the midst of my preparation (and only a few short months before I entered the Missionary Training Center) I attended the dedication of the Palmyra New York temple, which was broadcast over the Church's satellite network. The date was April 6, 2000. During the sequence of the dedication I found my heart  filled with a warmth and peace far beyond anything I had previously experienced. Toward the end of the ceremony as the choir and congregation were singing a hymn, everything around me seemed to slowly fall from my perception until my focus was fixed entirely upon the feelings in my heart and the significance of the occasion that was taking place. It was as if nothing else could enter my mind. In this state the use of my natural eyes seemed to lessen while my spiritual eyes were opened in a way I hadn't experienced before. As this happened I saw very distinctly that the people in attendance at this dedication were not alone; angelic ministrants were also present. I can't fully or adequately describe how, but I saw and perceived their presence with full certainty.

After that experience, I had often wondered why it was so spiritually powerful. I've attended other temple dedications and not had a similar experience at any of them. Several days ago, however, while in the midst of an episode of remembrance the Spirit brought this experience back to my mind and used it as a prelude to instruct me. During this episode, I understood very clearly that one reason the temple dedication years earlier had been so spiritually powerful for me was because the Palmyra New York temple was to one day be the place where my wife and I would be sealed. More specifically, that particular temple was to be the place where my son (who would pass away at only three months old) would be promised to me throughout the eternities if I would but live worthily. Knowing beforehand that this would take place, the Lord had desired to impress upon my mind the true nature of temples and the reality of eternal families. He did this by partially and temporarily removing the veil from my spiritual eyes so that I was able to see and perceive the reality of life beyond what our natural eyes sense. The experience I had at the dedication that day was a prelude to your passing, which was still more than eleven years away.

Since your passing, I've drawn on the spiritual strength of that event countless times. I've used it to reassure myself that your death was not the end and that you continue to be present even though the veil prevents us from from seeing or sensing you. I thank the Lord for the powerful nature of that event. In this way (and others that remain too personal to write about) I know that the Lord started preparing me for your death long before you were born and even well before I met your mother. I thank Him for this, for sometimes I feel as though your absence is too much to bear. Only by drawing on the strength of past spiritual experiences (and the love and support of family and friends) am I able to continue on.

With Love,
Your Father