My Sweetie's Funeral Talk by Teach

Teach's talk was written with talking points, so some thoughts here are incomplete.

Time on the mission when I wanted him to write his conversion story and he told me that he didn’t really have one because he was, like me, just someone that always knew the plan of salvation. That it always made sense. he didn’t need a large moment of conversion for it was simply always there. 

I struggled with my relationship with my dad for many many years. I didn’t think we had much in common, I felt like he didn’t “get me” and I felt the term “cowgirl up” was unfairly used way too often. I always loved my dad and I knew he loved me, but we didn’t vibe great. To be totally clear - this was a me problem. It was an unmet expectations issue that I couldn’t put into words and didn’t know how to reconcile. Yet life has a way of giving you experiences that bring growth and change. One night about 6 or 7 years ago, I was driving home from picking up Felicity at my parents house. My dad was sitting on the porch when I left and I said, “bye dad,” he responded and I got in the car, he waved, I drove down the street. I don’t know what was different- I don’t remember what changed, but before I had made it as far as the elementary school I was in tears and knew I needed to go give my dad a hug and tell him I love him. So I turned around and did just that. As hard as I try to remember I can’t remember any more context or results of that day. Yet I know it changed how I interacted with my dad from that point forward. 

When we moved to NJ, I started to see my dad - both my parents actually - as these vessels of knowledge. And I called many times I wanted to get into a new hobby. Dad helped me virtually learn to make bread. He walked me through fixing the plumbing, I had to call mom cause dad didn’t do video calls, and say “hey, I need to talk to dad, I got a dad question” and then I would walk him down the Lowe’s aisle of screws, nuts and bolts trying to find the one that would replace one we had lost. This specific story was especially monumental because when I was about five dad took me to Anderson Lumber to pick out screws and it was the most boring experience of my life. And he would always joke about how much I loved shopping for screws.  

He helped walk me through the process of building a garden in 2019 when we lived in Taylorsville. Much to his chagrin, it died. But he helped me in 2021 when I wanted to try again in NJ with our small garden box. He even sent me a camera so I could catch the ground hog that would sneak out from under the shed to eat my plants. That garden didn’t make it. All I harvested were some lettuce leaves. Then again in 2023, he and mom flew out to see me graduate with my Masters and we tried once more to build a garden. We found the perfect wheeled boxes, I tracked the sun and shade to give him details of the conditions. He and mom helped me pick and plant so many adorable veggies! I would send daily updates. Yet - come harvest time I got some tomatoes and a pepper the size of my thumb. I made the world’s smallest omelette. It has become abundantly clear that while I take after my dad in passion for cooking, baking, eating. I do not have the ability to grow a garden. But he never gave up on me. Some day I’ll figure it out. 

Finally the best and worst part about talking to dad was the unsolicited fatherly advice. He always had advice that I usually didn’t want to hear, but 9 times out of 10 would improve my life. He shared his opinions and he cared deeply about our lives. My dad loves his grand kids. He always wanted them to be comfortable and feel valued and wanted. My dad often would tell me how much he loved seeing me be Thomas’s mom and that he was so proud of me for all I do for Thomas. He loved them all so much. I asked him if he thought he would see the twins before they come down earth side - and although we don’t know heavenly logistics, I hope he does. I hope they are both at his side (surrounded by other future Christensen grandkids) and they are hearing my dad tell his stories. Because there is nothing better.