My dear mother gets worse every day.
I think the chance for real communication has ended. She is still pleasant and generally very sweet but she has no memory or ability to string together coherent thoughts.
Unfortunately there are still things I would like to know about my mother, that I don’t know. Not because she told me and I forgot; I just never asked. I think I would have remembered the stories because they would have been so interesting to me, but I never asked. Jerry Johnson of the Deseret News once wrote about the vital importance of asking good questions.
I’d like to ask some more detailed queries about my father, like what was her first impression, what was it about him that she liked, if she had it to do over again would she decide the same? Why did she become active in the Church when no one else in her family did? What was the furthest place she ever got from home? What are some of her finest memories, most difficult times, consequential moments?
Now I’ll never find out.
She was born in this very valley but by the time I drove her around to ask where her house was exactly, she couldn’t remember. That day we drove up behind the Gap and a thought came to her. She was baptized in Hawkins Reservoir, in a little white dress and walked over large, jagged rocks to get into the water. She was so frightened she tried to back out but her mother wouldn’t let her. She had borrowed the dress from a neighbor. I wish I had more reminiscences like that, but it’s too late.
Elijah says our hearts are going to be turned to our fathers, wouldn’t it be easier if we knew them better?
Before its everlastingly too late, it’s important to ask questions.
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