Dinoroar

As I think back on some of the toys Laura enjoyed, one of her favorites was a Fisher-Price Dinoroar. This was a brightly colored stuffed dinosaur about ten inches long that would "roar" for as long as 4-5 seconds (a high pitched sound that was nearly more of a squeal or whine than a deep roar, starting very high and then gradually tapering off to a lower and softer tone) when you squeezed and then released the body. The sound was made by a mechanism sewn inside the body; there were no batteries to wear out or change.

Laura loved her Dinoroar and would sleep with it at night. When I would go in to tell Laura goodnight she would always elicit a roar - and would sometimes let me do so, too. I don't remember what Laura named this toy. But I think she would sometimes let the Dinoroar be her voice when she was feeling frustrated and wanted to roar herself. I can still see Laura hugging this toy and smiling as it roared at her.

When Laura went to school I think she took Dinoroar with her, so I didn't see it again. Perhaps she or Mom has it boxed up somewhere. But one year I found a Dinoroar at a thrift store. It was well worn and a little dirty, but the roar worked perfectly. I took this toy home, cleaned it up the best I could, and wrapped it to give to Laura as a Christmas present.

The look on Laura's face when she opened her gift was a mixture of astonishment and glee. And she quickly squeezed the Dinoroar so she could hear the familiar - and comforting - roar from her youth.

Somewhere lurk two Dinoroars that once belonged to Laura. If I ever unearth them, they will occupy a place of honor in our home as a reminder of some happy times with Laura.

A letter

Dear Laura,

I want you to know how much Autumn loves you and misses you. In the van on the way to school today, completely out of the blue, Autumn told me that if she had to choose between going to school (which she LOVES) and having you alive she would choose having you alive. She told me how much she wished you could be alive still. She then went out to express the best that she could as an almost 6-year-old how much you meant to her.

She told me that she would give up gallons and gallons of water, she would give up our van, our house to have you alive still. She said that she would even give up her brand new american girl doll (that she spent months saving for and paid entirely with her own money) the day that it arrived to have you be alive still. She really misses you, and she loves you dearly.

Months and months ago Autumn announced to us that she was going to pray for her uncle Janardan to get better, and she was going to say it in every prayer. When you moved home to Iowa Laura, and were going in and out of hospitals, Autumn added you too. She never forgot to pray for you to get better. The night that you died when she was saying her prayer, she faltered because she always prayed that Janardan and Laura would get better, but she stopped after Janardan, and then prayed that you would be happy in heaven. She has continued to pray for you in every one of her prayers, but now prays for you in heaven.

I hope you are doing well. We love you and miss you terribly.

Emily

Second Grade

When Laura was in the second grade her teacher was Mrs. Castelluccio. As you can imagine, this long name was a challenge for the young students to learn to spell correctly. I recall that Laura was worried about being able to remember the spelling. She was somewhat frustrated by how hard her teacher's name was to spell and was determined to get it right. I tried to help Laura by breaking the name up into parts, focusing syllable by syllable, or coming up with a clever mnemonic to aid her in remembering. But nothing was working.

Then the proverbial light bulb turned on and I began singing the tune to "Old MacDonald had a farm, e-i-e-i-o" substituting the letters in Mrs. Castelluccio's name. In an instant Laura had the spelling down pat, never to be forgotten.

The next day Laura was happy to report that she could easily spell her teacher's name and that Mrs. Castelluccio was pleased. But there was more to the story, as I learned later.

Some time afterwards I attended a parent-teacher conference with Mrs. Castelluccio and Laura. Mrs. C, as she was popularly known, praised Laura's ability and intelligence, making special mention that Laura was the first in the entire class to learn to spell her name correctly. I assumed that Laura had told Mrs. Castelluccion about using old MacDonald to learn the spelling, but as it turned out Laura had been too shy to share her secret!

Mrs. Castelluccio was delighted to learn Laura's method and vowed to use it with all her future classes. She thanked Laura for sharing such an easy and clever approach.

Laura was a favorite student of her second grade teacher, and not just because of learning to spell the difficult name. Laura brought a dedication and commitment to the classroom, and also demonstrated a real concern for her fellow students that made her stand out. Mrs. C loved you, Laura. And so do I.

Yahtzee!

One of my favorite activities with Laura was playing Yahtzee. Why was this such a favorite activity? Certainly not because I would win, because that didn't happen very often. Laura was indeed, as Brenda so humorously pointed out at the memorial service, the Yahtzee champion of the world (at least of our world)! I cannot count the number of times Laura has looked me directly in the eyes warning me what she is about to do, and then would roll a Yahtzee or a large straight. "You've gotta have the mo-jo," she would say.

Laura and I were a good match for Yahtzee because of our styles. We both played very quickly -- and could barely stand playing with others who took their sweet time at their turns. And we played with little conversation. "It's Yahtzee, not talk-sy," I would often tell Laura. Our tradition when I inevitably lost was that I had to kiss Laura's foot. She would lift her chin and look to the ceiling while proferring her foot. I had to kneel down and touch my lips to her toes. I believe Laura enjoyed this most of all. Needless to say, when I did win there was no reciprocation!

Sometimes when Laura was having a "bad day" at home, playing Yahtzee would help lighten her mood. I know Laura looked forward to a game of Yahtzee when she was in the hospital. You really were the champion, Laura. How I miss you.

Poopa

The Queen of Everything

Why is Laura famously known as "The Queen of Everything" in our family? When our children were younger, we adopted a Christmas tradition of giving gifts that were made rather than bought. The definition of "made" was generous to include something created out of pieces that were purchased. I'm sure each family member remembers either making or receiving one of these innovative and special gifts.

One year Ben had Laura's name for a Christmas gift. He found an iron on transfer that he put on a sweatshirt (pink, as I recall). The image was "The Queen of Everything" created by Mary Engelbreit.

This was Laura's absolute favorite article of clothing for a long time, not only because she liked the image but because we all were "forced" to do her bidding whenever she wore her special sweatshirt. What fun we had being Laura's semi-willing subjects!

Years later Laura was living away from home and one day while shopping in a local thrift store I was thrilled to find the identical image on a tapestry wall hanging. This also became a Christmas gift for Laura and adorned the wall in her apartment in Provo. While it was a silly gift for a grown woman, the smile it brought to her face was priceless.

I do not know what happened to the sweatshirt (Mom probably has it packed away somewhere). But I have the wall hanging as a wonderful reminder of the royalty in our family, Laura Ann Oviatt -- The Queen of Everything!

A Clean House

I had my visiting teacher over today and was thinking about how she and my sister came while we were in Iowa for Laura's memorial service and cleaned my house, so when we got home late that Monday evening, we would at least have a clean home to greet us. It was a very welcomed surprise.

It got me thinking though about how when Ben was in graduate school and I would escape to my parents' homes during midterm and finals weeks. I would work so hard to leave the home clean and have meals made for him before I left, and really how messy could it get, it is only one person and he was studying most of the time. But messy it did get, but I never saw it. Ben would almost like clockwork call Laura the day before me and the kids were to return home and Laura would give Ben a hard time or chide him, but she always came over and "helped" (basically did everything) to get our home clean.

I really appreciate that she would always do that for Ben and for me.

Autumn remembers Laura and Zephyr saves the day

At dinner we were reading the scriptures in 2nd Nephi 20:27, which says
“And it shall come to pass in that day that his burden shall be taken away from off thy shoulder, and his yoke from off thy neck, and the yoke shall be destroyed because of the anointing.”
I mentioned that having a burden was like Laura, who had a heavy thing she carried in her mind, and that this said that she would have that taken away so she could be happy. Autumn covered her ears and got very quiet. She finally said that she was “sad.”

I thought she was worried about if Laura was happy on the other side and I saw a parallel between the “anointing” mentioned in this scripture and a verse shared with me by my bishop (Matt Christensen) the night Laura died. The bishop told us about a talk he had read in which an apostle, Jeffrey R. Holland, spoke at the funeral of a bishop who had killed himself while he was the bishop. Elder Holland cited D&C 138:58 (“The dead who repent will be redeemed, through obedience to the ordinances of the house of God, And after they have paid the penalty of their transgressions, and are washed clean, shall receive a reward according to their works, for they are heirs of salvation.”) I pointed out that we will be able to go to the temple and do Laura’s temple work to help Laura so that her burden is taken away on the other side too.

Emily recognized that Autumn was not worried about Laura, but was sad that Laura is not here any more. Autumn said she was sad that Laura can’t come over any more. She started talking about what thoughts she was having that were making her sad. She said, “She can’t come over and make S’mores any more. She can't babysit us anymore. She can’t come over to make forts any more, and watch TV in the forts. She can’t play dress up any more. She can’t come over to play any more. She also can’t come over to do finger nail polish. She can’t give me any more nail polish any more. She can’t come over to play Polly Pockets. She can’t see Chrissa (Autumn's new American Girl doll that she got today) that I saved up for. She can’t do piggy-back rides any more.”

Prairie said, “But then she’ll be resurrected and play Polly Pockets and S’mores.” Autumn went and cuddled with Zephyr for a second and said, “Yeah, Zephyr, she’ll get resurrected soon.” Zephyr smiled and had an explosive sound (like a loud laugh) and Emily said Zephyr “acted like a real kid” because he was smiling and interacting with us in the most hilarious way. It totally changed Autumn's mood. We wondered out loud if Laura was with us and if Zephyr could see her. Autumn exclaimed, “He had a smile on his face and was making us laugh and have fun again!”

At bedtime Autumn brought it up again. She said, “Laura was tickling him, or angels were whispering to him, ‘Laura’s just fine, and you’ll see her again soon.’ And then he was jumping around and I’ve never seen him act like that. He made us feel the warmness (our way of identifying the influence of the Holy Ghost) and he made us feel happy again.”

Regina Spektor--Samson

Laura gave of her music

Chuck Norris once won a staring contest with the sun. I know because Laura told me. Laura was always willing to dispense her knowledge and talents--especially her lightning-fast, razor-sharp wit. I love how she would groan when someone else (mostly Dad or I) would make a joke, because that groan was always accompanied by a smile or a laugh. Laura had a stunning smile and a contagious laugh that lit up a room no matter how grumpy you may have felt.

One of the things I will always most treasure about Laura is that, despite her anxiety, she was willing to play Ben Folds' "The Luckiest" at my wedding reception in Boston so that I could serenade my new bride. She was 16 at the time. Up until the last moment Laura was unsure if she would do it (despite having practiced the song so much), but when she saw that it was so important to me she went ahead and did it. And for some, including my father-in-law, it was indelibly recorded in their memories as the most touching part of the occasion. Laura is indelibly recorded in my memory in some of the most touching experiences of my life.

I loved to hear Laura play the piano. One night, shortly before she returned to Iowa, I visited her at her apartment (at Sparks II) and she went to the lounge and played a song for me on the old, out-of-tune piano. It was Regina Spektor's "Samson." I tried to sing it but my voice was not a good fit for the song--which Laura informed me of. She did this without malice, just matter-of-factly. It still hurt my feelings because I based a lot of my self confidence in high school on my good singing voice, but I tried to hide the fact that it hurt.

And then Laura sang, and it was beautiful. I hadn't heard her sing solo in years, and her voice was so mature and full of emotion and expression. Hearing her sing erased much of my foolish hurt because singing should not be a contest, but an expression of self that touches others. And her singing was pure expression because it included everything; she was nervous about singing in front of me and it showed at first, but she opened herself up more to the music and finished beautifully. She was able to keep going even when she felt she had made a mistake.

I will treasure that memory and the many others in which Laura used music to reach out to others. I don't know that I have any recordings of Laura singing, but I would give a lot to have a recording of her song that night. I'm sure at the time that is was not a warning of what was eventually to come, but when she sang the lyric in the song "I have to go, I have to go" I never would have imagined that she would be gone. I still can't believe she is gone. Dear God, I miss her. But I know she is happier there. This scripture game me a lot of comfort last night:

“…the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body…whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life. And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow” (Alma 40:11-12).

Laura strove so hard to be righteous. I am so happy to picture Laura there, where she must be much as she once was (but even more so): happy. And it comforts me to know that she is at peace and resting from all care and sorrow. She carried so much. And I miss her so much. So much.