In all living, have much fun and laughter.: February 2014

I need to finally do this.
I feel like I have been putting it off

and I can't move forward until I finally get this on my blog.

I have tried several times,

but it just hurts so bad.

Ignoring it seems better...

yet it's not, because it is always there,

waiting.

We planned dad's funeral on Sunday, December 22nd

and finished the plans on the 23rd

so we could get home to our kids and try to finish up plans

for Christmas.

Christmas was a blur.

I feel bad that it wasn't all together,

but the kids were very understanding.
I was grateful I still saw the sparkle and wonder of Christmas
in my babies eyes.
Because the last thing I wanted was for it to not hold
the wonder, and magic
that it has always held before.
The last thing my dad would want was to ruin this day,
one of his favorite days.
I am already thinking about next year,
knowing that I need to make it really special,
to make up for all we lost this year.

The day after Christmas,

we left very early in the morning to be back for his viewing

and funeral.
It was a strange feeling...
wanting to put it off, but also wanting to just get it done.
Knowing that we were going to see him,
to have the privilege of dressing him in his temple clothes.
Yet dreading it so much it physically hurt.
Because once we saw him, it was real.
It was permanent.
He would really be gone.
Gone.
Leaving us behind.
With so many questions unanswered...

The funeral was beautiful.

It was everything we had hoped it would be

for the man we all loved and adored.
How could we do anything less.
Everything I am, everything I believe, came from this man.
He gave me the ability to find faith in all he held dear,
and I wanted to be sure that my words accurately described what he meant to me.

My sister, Tammy, spoke also.The fun stories, the happy memories,
And Shalum finished it off with the most wonderful
testimony of the
Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Again...
it was all that he taught us,
all that we learned to hold dear.

Tribute to my dad (given at his funeral)

I haven't been able to wrap my mind around doing a life sketch

of a man who was bigger than life to me,

to my family, and to so many who have had the pleasure

of really knowing and associating with him.

It's not as if I could stand here and say he was perfect,

because most of you here today, honoring Jay Stone,

have likely witnessed his not so perfect moments.

In fact many of you were probably knee deep in the trouble with him.

It has been so much fun being reminded about the 'Stormin' Mormon',

pool at Curly's,

the bandits that had the entire law enforcement out looking for the train robbers,

only to find cousins,

with bandanas over their faces and wooden guns Rex had carved.

I could tell you about the practical jokes, because he was always joking.

I could tell you about the antics he pulled at the hay mill,

and in the army,

on the railroad, or the trucks he drove,

or the shafts he has sunk.

I could tell story after story of a man who could keep a room full of people

entertained for hours.

He was a miner.

He wasn't just a miner, he was the best miner.

When he took on a job, he never quit until it was not just done,

but done perfectly, and usually ahead of schedule.

He taught us that "you give it your all.

You don't quit until you're done,

and if you don't want to give them your best,

move on so they can hire someone that's willing to."

When people heard Jay Stone was my dad through mining it was often followed by the question, "THE Jay Stone?"

But after all of the stories,

I felt over and over that this was not the life sketch I wanted to leave with you.

This one is the one that really mattered to me.

This one could be told in the story Shayne shared with me

when he went with my mom and his friend, Jeff, to the mine.

As dad came out of the shaft and walked towards the car, in his diggers,

dirty from being underground,

and Jeff told him that he didn't recognize his dad like that.

Shayne said he was almost offended - after all, he was proud of his dad, the miner.

Then Jeff told him that dad was more recognizable in a white shirt and tie.

That is the man I want to tell you about.

The man who hasn't always lived perfectly -

but when I think of my dad's life, the scripture in Matthew comes instantly to mind.

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethern,

ye have done it unto me."

This is how he lived!

He was a leader, he did not follow.

If he had it, if he could do it, it was done!

I remember a man who was as gentle as he was tough.

I see his hands as he willingly went to those in need to give a priesthood blessing.

Who told me to never be afraid to wake him in the night to give me a blessing.

I think of the man who taught his sons in law how to use the Priesthood he cherished.

I see the man who stood over the incubator in the hospital

and commended my 4th child back to life.

I see his hands holding my mom's hand, serving her.

I see the man who didn't just teach me to pray, but who lived what he taught.

I remember getting up early for seminary and seeing his feet poking out the door.

He was on his knees praying.

I see the Elder's Quorum president

who made sure the ward had 100% home teaching each month he was in,

not because these people were a number to him,

but because he loved 'the least of these'.

He took the people that other's didn't want.

He broke through icy hearts that wouldn't let people in.

He cleaned their houses, he helped them move,

he shoveled their walks when it snowed.

It didn't matter how important the person's standing in society was -

in fact he had a special talent of lifting some of society's undesirables.

I see the man who made sure his family had church each week

when we moved to a little bush town in Canada.

I still remember him blessing the sacrament for us in our home,

and then when we grew to two families, and then four,

he took his boys to help clear the rec center where we had church

of the beer cans and cigarette butts,

laughing that we weren't doing our job if the back row didn't smell like beer and tobacco.

He loved the least of these, he lifted them in service.

I remember him breaking the ice in the frozen lake in October in Canada to baptize 3 people.

He taught us to treat people good on your way up so they treat you good on your way down.

He didn't want or need to mingle with the ones who could further his career.

He mingled with the common people, and was a friend.

He gave so many young men a chance at work,

his influence cannot be measured in this life.

And most of all, I see the man who taught me my faith in the Savior and in the atonement.

Because of him, I have the faith to know that the gift of the atonement covers all,

and will carry us through anything.

While I will remember the goofy man who made me get on my knees at the basketball game

in front of all of my friends and tell him how handsome and kind and wonderful he was

in order to take the car,

or the man who told my first date it cost him $40,000 a year

to keep me best dressed in the yearbook hall of fame-

I will most of all remember that we must be a little kinder,

a little gentler,

because we have no idea what burdens another carries.

I will remember to love the least of these,

with no thought of what they can do for me.

This is the life I want my kids to remember.

For them to know that our choices matter,

and I want them to learn that above all else,

there is hope, and that the atonement is real

Part of dad's obituary...

Jay, as he was known by family and friends,

pursued his life ambitions with a passion and dedication that echoed his work ethic.

From his time in the military, as a 101st Airborne –“Screaming Eagles” –

to his lifelong love of mining,

he exhibited a boundless energy that inspired all his posterity

and all those who had the privilege to know him.

His love of storytelling brightened the lives of his listeners,

as he was indiscriminate with whom he shared his many stories and jokes.

His wit was quick and entertaining with others rarely getting the best of him.

His children developed a fond love of music from his singing

and the many Saturday mornings he could be found lying in front of his record player

(although not many of his children inherited his musical abilities).

Because of his mining career,

he and his family traveled much of North America as tramps

and looked forward to the next adventure

where his singing of the oldies replaced the radio and entertained his children for miles.

“On the Road Again” became the Stone mantra,

sung at the beginning of every road trip.

His achievements and accomplishments in the mining industry were vast

and something that gave him great pride.

As a miner, he rose quickly through the ranks to become a project manager,

giving opportunities and a love of mining to many young men through the years,

including his own sons and sons-in-law.

He was a beloved boss,

known to show up, day or night,

to serenade the men in the dry house with his rendition of “Big John”

and was admired for his atypical style as a boss

, known to still come down and throw the jackleg around.

His greatest desire was to always provide well for his family

and he was willing to undergo any sacrifice for them.

He always told his children,

“You give it your all. You don’t quit until you are done.

And if you don’t want to give them your best,

move on so they can hire someone that’s willing to.”

Sadly, though his voice had been somewhat silenced in recent years due to his illness,

we know he is once again sharing his voice and stories with those he loves.

He was proud of his ever growing family and loved to tease the great-grandchildren

just as he always did with his children and grandchildren.