Crying at School: A Post by Sammi

I went to Health class after lunch. There was a guest speaker. She had come to speak on organ donation. 

Now, this is already a hard topic, but during the presentation, she asked our class if we knew anyone who was an organ donor. She was probably expecting someone to say, "my grandma," or "my friend's twice removed uncle," or maybe she wasn't expecting anyone to raise their hand at all. 

I rose my hand and said, "My dad." She looked at me and then asked, "What did he donate?"   

       
"Everything he had." I replied. 

I was keeping it in pretty well through the class period. After class, my health teacher came up and apologized for putting me through that and said that I could always ask her if I could leave. Then the guest speaker came up to me and said how brave that was. They both said that I was amazing and my health teacher even gave me a hug. She asked if I needed a moment. "No," I replied, " I'm headed to choir." 

I hurried to choir as fast as I could without running. When I found my spot on the risers, I just sat down, buried my face in my hands and tried my best to breathe in and out. A few girls came over and asked if I was alright. I didn't know what to say. One girl who had come from Health to Choir with me came over and started to give me a hug. Then many more members of our choir asked what was wrong. The girl who was hugging me said, "she had to talk about her dad in Health class." Before I knew it, I was embraced in several pairs of arms. . . . I was laughing. . . . and I was crying. 

Through the tangled mess of arms, I could see my choir teacher looking at me. "Are you Ok? Do you need a minute?" he asked. I worded, "It's OK." I was shaking my head in many different directions, not knowing if I was really OK or not. 

We started class, did attendance, warmed up our voices, then started singing. 

This is how our first song went.... 

"How should I, your true love know. . . from another one. By his cockle hat and staff. . . . by his sandal shoes. He is dead and gone, lady. . . he is dead and gone. At his head a grass green turf, at his heels a stone. White his shroud as the mountain snow, larded all with sweet flowers. Which be wept to the grave did go, with true love powers." 

I do not, in any way on this Earth, blame my choir teacher for the emotion this song brings. He cannot take the time to think everything through for every single one of his students (he has 150), what I mean is that. . . yeah, I was crying again. 

It was rough, but I got through the choir period. The other songs are "Over the Rainbow" and "June is Busting Out All Over" which did pick up my spirits again. I couldn't help but think... wow. This day, day 179 without dad, was the first day that I have ever cried in class. I didn't know what to think. Was I finally breaking? 

After singing our songs, listening to some great performances, watching some funny music videos, and doing a minute to win it, including an Oreo and my forehead, the choir period was over. My choir teacher came up to me and asked what was wrong. I told him what had happened in Health. He said that he didn't know that my dad was an Organ Donor. He also asked for some clarification on what had caused his unexpected death. I told him this. . . 

"Ever since October of 2013, he had been feeling sick. For a while, he seemed fine, but it still was not common for him to be so sick. Then on April 1st, he had a really hard time breathing. My mom took him to the Emergency Room. His heart stopped a couple times, and after a while, he was completely brain dead. So, they took him off the machines and he passed away."

We talked for a little while longer and he said that he completely understood my reason for crying in class. I told him that I would certainly not make a habit of it. He gave me a quick hug and well wishes for the weekend. I told him "thank you" and returned the wish. 

As I went back to my locker to pack-up, I thought about what had happened that day. 

I could not believe I had just cried in school. 

I will try not to make it a regular habit. 

The Dark Side of the Moon

Sammi drew this last night. She sat outside after a young woman activity, and as the moon was coming up, she felt like drawing and pondering the universe.

I must say, Sammi is right! I love that she can make the connections of the universe, and in life. There are so many things around us all the time that testify of truth, and that there is something much larger and grander than what we see with our imperfect eyes.

The spirit world is always there, all the time -- and the connection between the dark side of the moon is a really great example to compare it to. The whole moon is always there in its place in the universe, but sometimes we can only see part of it. The whole earth -- including the spirit world which is on the earth -- is always in its place in the universe, too. We just can't always see the spirit world. If God were to touch our eyes and show us, we could see it. If He were to touch our eyes today, we would see the glory and grandeur of where the spirits of those who have departed from this life dwell.

I was recently told that we will be surprised not at the differences of the next phase of life, but at the sameness. We will still be who we are. We will feel very much the same as we do now. I think we will be shocked at the beauty, but shocked also by the familiarity.

The spirit world is real. Those who have died still live.

I know it.

Just because you can't see something, does not mean it is not there.

The spirit world is around us all the time. Those who love us are never far away.

God is in His Heaven. Jesus is preparing to return to the Earth.

One day we will see it all. 

The "dark side of the moon" will be illuminated… the spirit world, and all things glorious will be revealed to us.

We will all be amazed.  

I am super excited about it! :-)

The Day Daddy Died: A Blog Post by Sammi

My daughter, Sammi, wrote on her blog of her experience the day her dad died. I thought I would share it here. (Her blog is private.) I will share more from my perspective of telling the children in another post, but I thought hearing her words might be interesting, and uplifting… Sammi is a pretty amazing girl. I adore her. She has been an inspiration to me through all of this. I am her mother, but she is my example in so many ways. She loves her daddy so much. He was -- and still is -- her hero, truly. Sammi is Charles' little princess. He is so proud of her. 

On April 1st of 2014, I woke up and went to school as usual, I spent the day, going through the motions of a normal junior high day, enjoyed it fully, then was taken to the Harlin's home for some of the evening. It was unexpected, but I just figured that it was Henry's kidney appointment taking longer than expected. 

Tyson came and picked us up to take us home. We didn't talk that much and it almost felt like something was wrong. We walked up to the door and mom answered. She wasn't as peppy as she normally was. At that point, I was wondering if everything was alright with Henry. Were they operating on him? 

Mom had us all gather to the couch and for a few seconds there was utter silence. I saw dad's coat and tie sitting on the chair. Was he home? Was he just taking an afternoon nap? He hadn't been feeling very good lately and I figured that he was taking a break from work for a short period of time. 

Then mom said that she had gone to the hospital with dad. She said that he was having a terrible time breathing and she had watched him take his final breaths until he joined his Father and Brother in Heaven. My dad, Charles Paul van Ormer, grand father, worker, faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, friend, and greatest superhero to roam the earth, passed away. He was just gone. 

Daniel and William broke out into tears. Asking, is this an April Fool's day joke and will we need a new dad. They buried themselves in our mother's arms and kept crying uncontrollably. 

But I didn't cry. Not a tear was streaming down my face. It wasn't real. Surely not. It couldn't be. The man who I had spent most of my twelve years of living with, who would hug me and cuddle me, encourage, and support, the one person who I thought would live to a ripe old age had disappeared from my life just like that. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bear to think of it. Out loud I asked, "How am I not crying?"

Then I saw grandma and grandpa coming up to our house, coming to our door in a quick run. Then it was real. I was pushed out of my daze. Then I felt a gentle creek of tears begin to flow. 

The rest of the night was spent piecing things together. I kept myself busy by sweeping, cleaning out-of-place objects, making practical jokes to try and make everyone laugh, and writing in my journal. Mom said that we wouldn't be going to school the next day. 

There I paused. "No", I said, " I'm going to school tomorrow." My mom looked at me. She kept saying that my mind would change and that I shouldn't think about that. But in my mind, I was already rethinking many things. Dad would not want anyone to be sad or just stop living their life to the fullest potential just because of a physical absence. I was going to go to school tomorrow. As a family, we read our scriptures, said our prayers and then went to bed. 

I slept fine, woke at the break of dawn, got ready for school and waited for grandpa to take me. I did it. My grandpa dropped me off and then went into the main office to tell them the news. He also told them that seeing the counselor was the last thing I wanted to do. 

During my school day, I saw people from my ward who had heard of the news, teachers looked at me with different than usual looks. I received hugs and watched as tears streamed down my close friends faces. Amazingly enough, I did not cry. I was surrounded by people who cared. I saw my best friend Hanna run down the hallway and she came and hugged me with all of her might. I love Hanna. She is the sister I have always wanted. Seeing some tears coming from her soft brown eyes really pulled on my emotional chord. All day, I talked about it with people, received hugs, smiled, and did school work, meaning I gave presentations, worked on study guides, passed out folders, wrote poems, and many other assorted school tasks. 

Even though he isn't here physically, his spirit is still with all of us and he still shares his love with everyone he passes. I love my dad and I love everyone. I am so thankful to be here and to have been able to share my experiences. 

-Sammi 

P.S. I love the precious picture of Sammi and her Dad, taken by Rachelle Harlin. Also, that picture was taken when Charles first started having trouble with his breathing, from the clotting in his lungs (which we were unaware was clotting at the time). The picture was taken in the Fall. Charles did not want to have pictures taken that day, because he did not feel well. I am so glad he was a good sport and came along with us anyway. The pictures of our family that we got that day are priceless to me now!