My dear Dad passed away a few weeks ago and I believe I’m ready to write about the funeral and how I feel about him.
Dad’s health has been slowly declining since Mom passed in February 2007. My brothers, sisters and I have been sharing responsibility for caring for him since Mom passed. He’s been living in his home and we’ve taken turns having dinner and visiting with him. One of us has visited with him every day, and those who don’t live nearby have called. Lynette and Chip have been most involved and have visited him countless times daily. I don’t know what we would have done without them, and especially Gog, (Lynette). She’s earned her wings by being an angel here on earth. Thom and Carol have taken care of financial matters, and Carol has stepped into Mom’s shoes when it comes to keeping the family organized and caring for Dad, and each other.
I have the best family. Mom and Dad were excellent examples of hard-working, compassionate, salt-of-the-earth human beings who loved unconditionally and left judgment up to God. They expected nothing less from us.
As the saying goes, no chain is stronger than it’s weakest link. This applies to the Eldon Wright’s in that no family is stronger than it’s weakest member. That would be me. But because of the way we were raised, no one draws any attention to this and I always feel equally cherished when I’m in the sanctuary their love provides.
My contribution to Dad’s care was going to Heber on most Friday’s and spending the night. Dad appreciated me bringing dinner and watching TV with him. My trip to Heber on 4/3 would turn out to be the last I’d spend with Dad. Over time, Dad would have good days and bad days. It was a good day when he remembered my name, and asked about Les and Amie. A not-so-good day was when he’d remember I was his daughter and would ask about my husband and my daughter. A bad day was when he mistook me for a home health aide, and was surprised that I’d be spending the night. It didn’t matter to me what kind of day Dad was having, because my greater memories of him sustain me and I knew he was waiting with patience to join the love of his life, in heaven, my Mom.
I want to share an experience my sister, Kaye will remember. It illuminates the relationship I had with Dad and helps explain what was so special.
I grew up in the middle of a large Mormon family with busy parents and siblings. Dad was the Guidance Counselor at Wasatch High School and Mom worked at the Homestead. We lived on a small farm and had a relatively simple life, which, in retrospect, seemed down right Norman Rockwell. Dad’s work hours were similar to the school hours for his children and his summer break, although not as long as that of us kids, corresponded. Summers were filled with long days, hard work and fun play. We didn’t watch much TV. When Dad caught us sitting in front of the tube, he could certainly find something better for us to do. We learned to find something better to do ourselves, and there was a lot of creative play.
The growing season is short in Wasatch County so summer farm work began a little before the end of the school year and extended until the third crop (of hay) was in the barn, which usually happened by the end of September. There were 10 acres on the property where our home was, about 10 acres east of the Midway Fish Hatchery and way too many leased acres in Charleston and Daniels. We had horses, cows, sheep, pigs (on occasion) and chickens. When we misbehaved, we were sent directly to the garden to pick weeds. (Even now, gardening feels a bit like punishment.)
I loved horses and rode every chance I had, and so did Dad and Kaye. When we were in the middle of hay season, we worked hard from sunrise until sunset. The work was broken up by riding our horses between the fields and barn. Once the hay was loaded on the truck and wagon we’d get on our horses for a ride to the barn. Then we’d stack the hay in the barn, and repeat the process. We usually got 3 loads in each day, sometimes more, and that doesn’t seem like much, but you must know that by the time I was really helpful, Dad’s “haying crew” had become his 4 youngest children, all girls. Anyway, there was often a week or two during the summer when work lightened up and Dad would take Kaye and me for a pleasure ride in the mountains west of home. I always looked forward to it.
The ride I’m about to describe began just as many other. We did chores and made lunches just as dawn was breaking so we’d have the entire day to ride. Dad saddled the horses and we headed toward Snake Creek before sunrise. Dad was riding Trigger, Kaye was on Lightening and I was on Irvine, if my memory serves me. Dad loved sure-footed mountain horses and we had Quarter Horse and Arabian cross breeds. They were smaller than Quarter Horses but their stamina was unexcelled.
The plan was to go up Faucet Canyon, which veered off of the beaten path from a gravel road in a cabin development called Swiss Alpine, north and west of Midway. Dad had traversed the Deer Creek and Snake Creek area since he was a boy and knew all the trails and shortcuts. It had been awhile since his last trip up Faucet Canyon and the over brush was thick, and got thicker and more complicated the farther up the ravine we traveled. When the brush and fallen logs were thick enough Irvine had to jump, rather that step over them, I became unglued and scared and started to cry. (I’m a bawl baby.) I probably got to the point where I refused to continue, but I don’t recall exactly. (Keep in mind, Kaye, my younger sister, was riding a horse as small or smaller than mine, was traveling just as I was, and was not unglued, scared, or bawling.)
When Dad realized something must be done to calm me, we stopped and dismounted. He distracted me by telling me stories of traveling these very trails when he was young. We carved our names in a Quakie (Quaken Aspen), “Dad, Jane and Kaye, 1967” (I think). He admitted that we may have missed the actual trail, but assured me of his faith in these good, solid horses, and in the Lord. He knew I was still anxious so we kneeled down in the shade and he said a prayer. He asked God to promise me that I would know he would not put me in danger, that the horses were fine, even though the climb was tough, and that we would have a good ride and return home unscathed. That prayer did more to put me at ease than anything else, because I knew that my Dad and God were tight. We didn’t go much farther up the trail until we reached the saddle, emerged from the thick brush in the ravine and entered a sagebrush and aspen covered hilltop. (I can smell the warm sage and aspen, and feel the warmth of the sun as I write.) I had been saved.
The rest of the ride was quite uneventful. We dropped over into Little Deer Creek and found a delicious spring where we stopped for lunch and a few more stories. Dad cleared the watercress from the place the water bubble through the ground and showed us how to wait for the water to clear away the mud before drinking. There was nothing better to sooth my thirst.
I learned several lessons that day. I learned how Dad’s faith in the Lord was big enough to settle a nervous horse, and calm my soul. I learned that animals sense my emotions and act accordingly. I learned that if you get lost, improvise. I learned that God watches over good men, little kids and horses when he’s asked by an honorable and deserving man.
Dad and Kaye had a special bond, they were both tuned into the heartstrings of animals. In today’s world they’d be thought of as “horse whisperers.” Back then, they had more than good horse sense. I stopped being afraid, and there were many, many other good rides after that.
__________________________
Dad passed away in the early morning hours on Saturday, 4/11/09. Carol called me on Thursday 4/9 to tell me Dad hadn’t been doing well and I should come home. Kaye had come from Vernal to visit Dad the previous weekend and it was the first time she’d been in for quite awhile. She said that they had had a good visit and he seemed to be doing well when she left. I firmly believe that he needed to see Kaye, and know she was okay.
Carol told me Dad had gone to sleep Tuesday night and hadn’t really been awake since. They got a hospital bed and moved him from his bedroom to the living room where he could look out at the beautiful day, should he awaken. By Friday night, it was obvious the end was nearing and all his children were home and at his bedside. Barb, my youngest sister, and Peg, were with Dad when he passed. They both spoke of the peaceful feeling they had, and how thin the veil had become between this world and the next. Mom was waiting for him, as were his parents, my grandparents, and a host of our ancestors who were happy to see him, reunite with him and meet him again.
Peggy, my oldest sister, is a spiritual woman and lives close to the Lord. She’s the one we turn to for stories about our ancestors, as she’s studied and researched our family history. She’s also a very eloquent writer and in anticipation of Dad’s passing, decided she had better begin jotting down an obituary. She told me that twice she sat down to write, and both times she felt impressed that I should compile Dad’s “life sketch,” or obituary. Knowing that she’s attuned to the promptings of the spirit, I couldn’t deny her message. That’s how I came to be the one who condensed the life of a great man into a few short paragraphs that don’t come close to doing justice to the honor he earned.
__________________________
Eldon D Wright was born May 2, 1923 to David E and Nellie W Wright, in Charleston, Utah, and passed peacefully from this earth on April 11, 2009, at 2:19 a.m. He was at his home, being watched over by his loved ones on both sides of the veil. His beloved wife, Blanche Thomas Wright has been waiting in heaven for her sweetheart since 2/19/2007, and he had been looking forward to their reunion since she passed. They married on December 18, 1941 in the Salt Lake City Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Temple. He leaves behind his sister and her husband, ten children and their spouses, 50 grand children, 84 great grand children and one great great grand child. He was preceded in death by his parents, and a great-grand child, Clinton Youngreen. He is survived by his dear sister, Fern (David P) Young of Heber, and by his children, Margaret Ann (Peggy) (David R) Huntington of Pepperell, Massachusetts, Thomas E (Mandy) Wright of Heber, Carol (Rodney) Wade of Lake Creek, Joyce Becker of Heber, David (Ganien) Wright of Daniels, James B (Chip) (Brenda) Wright of Midway, Jane (Les) Broadhead of Salt Lake City and Opal, Wyoming, Kaye (Troy) Gregory of Vernal, Lynette (Kelly) Christensen of Midway, and Barbara Dawn (Michael) Valencia of Middleton, Idaho.
Eldon loved and obeyed his Father in Heaven, loved the earth, his community and young people. He was content serving his fellowman, caring for his family, riding horses, raising beef and tilling the ground.
He was a sailor during World War II and was on the USS Honolulu, a light cruiser, during the Battle of Leyte Gulf. He kept in touch with a few dear shipmates throughout his life.
Eldon was a teacher and a coach, and influenced the lives of many young people, first in Roosevelt, then, for the rest of his 30 year career, with the Wasatch County School District in Heber. He coached football, basketball and wrestling, taught physiology and was the Guidance Counselor at Wasatch High School.
His service to the Lord and his fellowman included being the Bishop of the Charleston Ward, LDS Church, from 1957 to 1970. He was also on the High Council of the Wasatch Stake. He served two missions with his dear companion, Blanche. One in Nauvoo, Illinois at the LDS Visitor’s Center, from January 1988 to January 1989, and one in the Columbia, South Carolina Mission from May 1993 to May 1994. He had many other Church callings and willingly accepted them all. His every thought and action were in keeping with the intent of the Lord. He knew and loved Jesus as his brother. He loved everyone unconditionally and without judgment.
The viewing was Wednesday evening and the funeral services were held on Thursday, 4/16/2009 in the Midway Stake Center, 165 N. Center St., Midway. His internment at the Heber Cemetery, with military honors, followed the services.
Dad’s health has been slowly declining since Mom passed in February 2007. My brothers, sisters and I have been sharing responsibility for caring for him since Mom passed. He’s been living in his home and we’ve taken turns having dinner and visiting with him. One of us has visited with him every day, and those who don’t live nearby have called. Lynette and Chip have been most involved and have visited him countless times daily. I don’t know what we would have done without them, and especially Gog, (Lynette). She’s earned her wings by being an angel here on earth. Thom and Carol have taken care of financial matters, and Carol has stepped into Mom’s shoes when it comes to keeping the family organized and caring for Dad, and each other.
I have the best family. Mom and Dad were excellent examples of hard-working, compassionate, salt-of-the-earth human beings who loved unconditionally and left judgment up to God. They expected nothing less from us.
As the saying goes, no chain is stronger than it’s weakest link. This applies to the Eldon Wright’s in that no family is stronger than it’s weakest member. That would be me. But because of the way we were raised, no one draws any attention to this and I always feel equally cherished when I’m in the sanctuary their love provides.
My contribution to Dad’s care was going to Heber on most Friday’s and spending the night. Dad appreciated me bringing dinner and watching TV with him. My trip to Heber on 4/3 would turn out to be the last I’d spend with Dad. Over time, Dad would have good days and bad days. It was a good day when he remembered my name, and asked about Les and Amie. A not-so-good day was when he’d remember I was his daughter and would ask about my husband and my daughter. A bad day was when he mistook me for a home health aide, and was surprised that I’d be spending the night. It didn’t matter to me what kind of day Dad was having, because my greater memories of him sustain me and I knew he was waiting with patience to join the love of his life, in heaven, my Mom.
I want to share an experience my sister, Kaye will remember. It illuminates the relationship I had with Dad and helps explain what was so special.
I grew up in the middle of a large Mormon family with busy parents and siblings. Dad was the Guidance Counselor at Wasatch High School and Mom worked at the Homestead. We lived on a small farm and had a relatively simple life, which, in retrospect, seemed down right Norman Rockwell. Dad’s work hours were similar to the school hours for his children and his summer break, although not as long as that of us kids, corresponded. Summers were filled with long days, hard work and fun play. We didn’t watch much TV. When Dad caught us sitting in front of the tube, he could certainly find something better for us to do. We learned to find something better to do ourselves, and there was a lot of creative play.
The growing season is short in Wasatch County so summer farm work began a little before the end of the school year and extended until the third crop (of hay) was in the barn, which usually happened by the end of September. There were 10 acres on the property where our home was, about 10 acres east of the Midway Fish Hatchery and way too many leased acres in Charleston and Daniels. We had horses, cows, sheep, pigs (on occasion) and chickens. When we misbehaved, we were sent directly to the garden to pick weeds. (Even now, gardening feels a bit like punishment.)
I loved horses and rode every chance I had, and so did Dad and Kaye. When we were in the middle of hay season, we worked hard from sunrise until sunset. The work was broken up by riding our horses between the fields and barn. Once the hay was loaded on the truck and wagon we’d get on our horses for a ride to the barn. Then we’d stack the hay in the barn, and repeat the process. We usually got 3 loads in each day, sometimes more, and that doesn’t seem like much, but you must know that by the time I was really helpful, Dad’s “haying crew” had become his 4 youngest children, all girls. Anyway, there was often a week or two during the summer when work lightened up and Dad would take Kaye and me for a pleasure ride in the mountains west of home. I always looked forward to it.
The ride I’m about to describe began just as many other. We did chores and made lunches just as dawn was breaking so we’d have the entire day to ride. Dad saddled the horses and we headed toward Snake Creek before sunrise. Dad was riding Trigger, Kaye was on Lightening and I was on Irvine, if my memory serves me. Dad loved sure-footed mountain horses and we had Quarter Horse and Arabian cross breeds. They were smaller than Quarter Horses but their stamina was unexcelled.
The plan was to go up Faucet Canyon, which veered off of the beaten path from a gravel road in a cabin development called Swiss Alpine, north and west of Midway. Dad had traversed the Deer Creek and Snake Creek area since he was a boy and knew all the trails and shortcuts. It had been awhile since his last trip up Faucet Canyon and the over brush was thick, and got thicker and more complicated the farther up the ravine we traveled. When the brush and fallen logs were thick enough Irvine had to jump, rather that step over them, I became unglued and scared and started to cry. (I’m a bawl baby.) I probably got to the point where I refused to continue, but I don’t recall exactly. (Keep in mind, Kaye, my younger sister, was riding a horse as small or smaller than mine, was traveling just as I was, and was not unglued, scared, or bawling.)
When Dad realized something must be done to calm me, we stopped and dismounted. He distracted me by telling me stories of traveling these very trails when he was young. We carved our names in a Quakie (Quaken Aspen), “Dad, Jane and Kaye, 1967” (I think). He admitted that we may have missed the actual trail, but assured me of his faith in these good, solid horses, and in the Lord. He knew I was still anxious so we kneeled down in the shade and he said a prayer. He asked God to promise me that I would know he would not put me in danger, that the horses were fine, even though the climb was tough, and that we would have a good ride and return home unscathed. That prayer did more to put me at ease than anything else, because I knew that my Dad and God were tight. We didn’t go much farther up the trail until we reached the saddle, emerged from the thick brush in the ravine and entered a sagebrush and aspen covered hilltop. (I can smell the warm sage and aspen, and feel the warmth of the sun as I write.) I had been saved.
The rest of the ride was quite uneventful. We dropped over into Little Deer Creek and found a delicious spring where we stopped for lunch and a few more stories. Dad cleared the watercress from the place the water bubble through the ground and showed us how to wait for the water to clear away the mud before drinking. There was nothing better to sooth my thirst.
I learned several lessons that day. I learned how Dad’s faith in the Lord was big enough to settle a nervous horse, and calm my soul. I learned that animals sense my emotions and act accordingly. I learned that if you get lost, improvise. I learned that God watches over good men, little kids and horses when he’s asked by an honorable and deserving man.
Dad and Kaye had a special bond, they were both tuned into the heartstrings of animals. In today’s world they’d be thought of as “horse whisperers.” Back then, they had more than good horse sense. I stopped being afraid, and there were many, many other good rides after that.
__________________________
Dad passed away in the early morning hours on Saturday, 4/11/09. Carol called me on Thursday 4/9 to tell me Dad hadn’t been doing well and I should come home. Kaye had come from Vernal to visit Dad the previous weekend and it was the first time she’d been in for quite awhile. She said that they had had a good visit and he seemed to be doing well when she left. I firmly believe that he needed to see Kaye, and know she was okay.
Carol told me Dad had gone to sleep Tuesday night and hadn’t really been awake since. They got a hospital bed and moved him from his bedroom to the living room where he could look out at the beautiful day, should he awaken. By Friday night, it was obvious the end was nearing and all his children were home and at his bedside. Barb, my youngest sister, and Peg, were with Dad when he passed. They both spoke of the peaceful feeling they had, and how thin the veil had become between this world and the next. Mom was waiting for him, as were his parents, my grandparents, and a host of our ancestors who were happy to see him, reunite with him and meet him again.
Peggy, my oldest sister, is a spiritual woman and lives close to the Lord. She’s the one we turn to for stories about our ancestors, as she’s studied and researched our family history. She’s also a very eloquent writer and in anticipation of Dad’s passing, decided she had better begin jotting down an obituary. She told me that twice she sat down to write, and both times she felt impressed that I should compile Dad’s “life sketch,” or obituary. Knowing that she’s attuned to the promptings of the spirit, I couldn’t deny her message. That’s how I came to be the one who condensed the life of a great man into a few short paragraphs that don’t come close to doing justice to the honor he earned.
__________________________
Eldon D Wright was born May 2, 1923 to David E and Nellie W Wright, in Charleston, Utah, and passed peacefully from this earth on April 11, 2009, at 2:19 a.m. He was at his home, being watched over by his loved ones on both sides of the veil. His beloved wife, Blanche Thomas Wright has been waiting in heaven for her sweetheart since 2/19/2007, and he had been looking forward to their reunion since she passed. They married on December 18, 1941 in the Salt Lake City Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints Temple. He leaves behind his sister and her husband, ten children and their spouses, 50 grand children, 84 great grand children and one great great grand child. He was preceded in death by his parents, and a great-grand child, Clinton Youngreen. He is survived by his dear sister, Fern (David P) Young of Heber, and by his children, Margaret Ann (Peggy) (David R) Huntington of Pepperell, Massachusetts, Thomas E (Mandy) Wright of Heber, Carol (Rodney) Wade of Lake Creek, Joyce Becker of Heber, David (Ganien) Wright of Daniels, James B (Chip) (Brenda) Wright of Midway, Jane (Les) Broadhead of Salt Lake City and Opal, Wyoming, Kaye (Troy) Gregory of Vernal, Lynette (Kelly) Christensen of Midway, and Barbara Dawn (Michael) Valencia of Middleton, Idaho.
Eldon loved and obeyed his Father in Heaven, loved the earth, his community and young people. He was content serving his fellowman, caring for his family, riding horses, raising beef and tilling the ground.
He was a sailor during World War II and was on the USS Honolulu, a light cruiser, during the Battle of Leyte Gulf. He kept in touch with a few dear shipmates throughout his life.
Eldon was a teacher and a coach, and influenced the lives of many young people, first in Roosevelt, then, for the rest of his 30 year career, with the Wasatch County School District in Heber. He coached football, basketball and wrestling, taught physiology and was the Guidance Counselor at Wasatch High School.
His service to the Lord and his fellowman included being the Bishop of the Charleston Ward, LDS Church, from 1957 to 1970. He was also on the High Council of the Wasatch Stake. He served two missions with his dear companion, Blanche. One in Nauvoo, Illinois at the LDS Visitor’s Center, from January 1988 to January 1989, and one in the Columbia, South Carolina Mission from May 1993 to May 1994. He had many other Church callings and willingly accepted them all. His every thought and action were in keeping with the intent of the Lord. He knew and loved Jesus as his brother. He loved everyone unconditionally and without judgment.
The viewing was Wednesday evening and the funeral services were held on Thursday, 4/16/2009 in the Midway Stake Center, 165 N. Center St., Midway. His internment at the Heber Cemetery, with military honors, followed the services.
