One Year

One year ago today, at about this time, P came in to my office in shorts and a t-shirt. He was giddy. The rodeo was over and he and his bride, with their best friends, were on their way to Island Park for a few days. They were flying up to have some adult time. The kids were driving up to meet them on Friday. I asked him, again, not to get on the plane. I just knew something bad was going to happen. I didn't think they were going to die, I just didn't feel good about it. At all. He was being silly. He made a shirt out of a plastic bag and had me put it on. Then he got his iPad out to video record me. I flipped him off. I am pretty sure that this is the last image on that iPad. Whoops.

We joked around for a while... he, Monte, Bill and I. He was so stinking excited to have the rodeo over with and he was so looking forward to the week with Sarah. He loved that woman with every ounce of his soul. She was so perfect with him. There was not a person on this planet who did not love Sarah. Looking back, P had been taking care of everything... and I'm not sure that he even knew why. But, everything was "in order." He knew. He followed inspiration better than anyone I know. He had written letters to each of his four kids. They will live the rest of their lives on this Earth knowing that their dad loved them.

Before he left the office, he said, "Okay, Heidi Ray. See you Monday! Love ya!" And that was it. That was the last time I would see him on this Earth. Within 15 or 20 minutes, Monte called me and asked if I had heard about the plane crash. I told him that was not a funny joke. He told me he'd be right to me. I knew then. I knew then that my P was gone. It wasn't until about an hour and a half after the crash that the email was sent out to the city employees, but I knew. I don't remember anything after that. I have been told that I lost my mind. I screamed and screamed. I cried and could not be consoled. A plan was put in place to get me home. The freeway was closed. And the guys wanted me no where near the freeway. Ernie was assigned to come right to me. My door was closed and only certain people were allowed in. Jimi was here. Bill came in and out. Kay and X came in and out. I was not in my right mind, I am sure. When a plan was finally in place to get me home to my children, I was escorted out of my office and in the hallway on that day, in that moment was every single one of my guys. Wanting to hug me and comfort me and needing comfort and hugs themselves. It took hours and hours to get home. Hours. I thought to myself that day, "I guarantee that no one in these cars next to us has any idea what kind of moments we were having." And I promised myself that day that I would work hard on not judging others.

I got home. My boys came out and Kay and I told them that our P was gone. They each mourned in their own way. Some broke down right out front and dropped to their knees in tears. Kaydon went to be by himself. Colton asked a whole lot of questions that I could not answer. I asked them to not get on to any news sights and to be aware of social media comments, where trolls would be making ignorant comments about our P. We prayed together and tried to love a little more. The next week, or so, is a blur.

This morning, two of my boys and I got up early (EARLY) and met Mr. Watkins, Beyta, Kay and X at the shop to make breakfast for the guys. It's what P would have wanted. He always wanted to share. He always wanted to serve. He did it everyday without people having any idea. It was a beautiful way to honor him today. Lots of hugs today. Lots of tears today. Lots of smiles today, remembering this man who was bigger than life. For one year, Kay has saved the "disco ball" that hung in his office from his 40th birthday. Today, the three of us hung it in my office. It was emotional, but right. It will hang from the ceiling with the two pinatas he hung for my birthdays.

P, we did good.