My dad

I have spent lots of time bemoaning my trials in the past six months.  It was hard to live away from Nathan for so long as a single parent.  I struggled to pack the house by myself while keeping it clean to show prospective buyers.  I found it difficult to live in a temporary home, before our house was ready to move into.

Also of those problems became to petty and immaterial when my dad was in a horrible bicycle accident.  And then to my disbelief 10 days later, I watched him take his last breath.

I now can see Thestrals.  I understand grief in a new non-academic way.  Life feels more fragile.  I feel more fragile.  But I do feel more cemented in my beliefs.  Daily trials are put into perspective, and I hope that I can work harder to be a better person.

I am still in disbelief.

Here is his life sketch from his funeral:

Nicholas Floyd Frey was born on April 12^th 1949 in Twin Falls Idaho to Barbara Lee Hine and Floyd Frey.  He was the oldest of three boys. His younger brothers, Wesley and Michael were close to him throughout his life.  He was a precocious boy, memorizing the nursery rhymes at the age of three impatiently waiting to be read to, and he had fond memories of his mother and grandparents reading him books.  He grew up close to a large extended family and cherished his memories growing up surrounded by cousins.  As a grandfather, he always commented on how much joy it brought to him to see the cousins playing with and loving one another.  Being one of the oldest, he playfully picked on the younger cousins sometimes climbing the apple tree throwing apples down to their surprise.  Other times, he organized group projects where he was always the overseer. He said he couldn’t begin to describe the fun they had together, building whatever props or toys they needed for their games. They also got into mischief by digging holes in Grandpa’s yard, and disguising them with water and debris.

Dad’s parents divorced when he was young, but he had a tender relationship with both his mother and his father.  His mother had the same cheerful nature that we all love in Dad.  His father taught Dad the value of working hard and relied heavily on Dad’s leadership in the family as the oldest son.

Growing up the fields were his playgrounds, and he always appreciated nature and the outdoors. As a young child his love for camping, hiking, and fishing was cemented in his heart.

 He relished telling us all the story of one family camping trip when he took a cool, wet stick and rubbed it against his mother’s bare ankle, convincing her that a snake was trying to crawl up her leg. He owned a small red wagon and tricycle, and a red fire engine hat, all of which were inseparable from him.  He always carried a thick bundle of papers in his wagon, regarding them as “very important documents.”  Indeed, he loved to learn.  He shared that passion with his children and grandchildren. In his life history he writes of his first year of school saying, “My family taught me to be friendly and courteous, to strive to learn and to do well at whatever I attempted.  As a result my teachers frequently commented upon what a good student I was, and I very easily developed many friends.” This was true throughout his life.

Although his parents divorced when he was young, Dad always had a cheerful outlook on life and was always grateful for the things he had, never noticing anything that might be wanting. 

When he was in middle school, his little family was facing a meager Christmas.  They decided to wrap up gifts for one another from their own belongings.  Every Christmas he told us the story of how his Brother, Mike, wrapped his favorite toy and gave it to him.  That was the first year he understood what Christmas was really about.  In all of his adult life he gave generously to his family and those in need.  He was generous, sometimes to a fault, and loved providing for loved ones seen and unseen.

In high school he and his friend Jerry Christian formed a rock band, called “The Disciples.” They were dedicated and managed to gain serious popularity in Twin Falls.  They also made a steady income playing at dances in the area and then, branching farther and farther away as news of their talent spread.  His senior year of high school, they got to compete in the Battle of the Bands in Boston.  He had an incredible time, placing in the competition, and being strongly encouraged to continue on in a life of fame and wealth.  He knew, however, that the lure wasn’t enough to prevent him from attending college. He played guitar throughout his life always wishing he’d learned more instruments. He provided opportunities for all of his children to develop talents in music, and inspired them to appreciate a staggering variety of good music—from classical to contemporary.  He had an unsurpassed talent of music appreciation…a very underrated ability.

 

He attended the University of Oregon majoring in Chemistry, one of many majors he had through the course of his education. While there, he began to grapple with questions of the meaning of life.  He received a box of pamphlets written about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and the book Articles of Faith by James Talmage-a leader of this faith.  In his journal he wrote, “I was impressed immediately with the faith of this tremendously brilliant and scholarly man, for up to this time the two, faith and learning, had always seemed to be alien to or separate from each other.  A change began to occur in my heart.” He sought out the missionaries who must have been surprised to hear him quote Talmage.  He was baptized and confirmed to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints on the next Saturday.  This decision proved to be the most life-altering choice of his life.

The following year he transferred to the honors program at BYU where, in a Book of Mormon class the spirit spoke to him urging him to go on a mission.  He submitted his papers the subsequent week and served in the California east and later south mission where he always joked he had to learn a foreign language—valley girl.  He was a powerful and successful missionary with a zeal and leadership that touched many hearts. His mission experience began a pattern of church service that has continued throughout his life.  He consecrated all of his ability as a missionary and developed a sure testimony that there is joy in serving your fellow man.  During his mission, he was thrilled to learn that one of the members of his rock band as well as Wes, his brother, had joined the church.  He went back to BYU and changed his major, once again, to mathematics… a fate which my mother saved him from after they were married.  He began dating Julie Ann when he returned to BYU.   He wrote about her tenderly in his journal.  He loved her so very much throughout their more than 40 years together. When they traveled to Nebraska so he could ask her parents for their blessing in marriage, her dad asked him which political party he belonged to.  Dad stammered and mom’s father replied, “oh it doesn’t matter.  Either way you’re wrong.” The truth is, mom’s parents loved dad.  I have no doubt they were part of his welcome party as he left this life and began a new journey in the next.  Mom and dad were married in the Salt Lake temple on August 9^th 1972 after a whirlwind courtship. After dating a short while, Dad became alarmed when Mom started talking about a study abroad program, and decided he better “seal the deal” before it was too late. In his journal he wrote, “how blissful those days were and how exquisite my joy at being married to Julie Ann.”

In October of 1973 their first daughter, Larissa was born.  Dad wrote, “We learned then the wonderful sacrifice that our parents had made for us.  We learned how truly deeply they loved us, for we loved our little daughter in like manner.  We learned that mankind doesn’t really change; only the circumstances under which they live do.  When you’re young you think that you’re the only generation that has ever been young and felt and thought and acted young.  But we learned when Larissa was born that all the generations before us were once young, married and had children, and then faced the duties and maturing responsibilities of adult life.”

The children continued to arrive about every two years.  Cami was born in February of 1976, Nicholas in January of 1978, Lenaya in November of 1979, and Garrett in September of 1985.  He was a playful and loving father.  He worked hard throughout his life both in his career and church callings.  He graduated from BYU in 1976 and then from the University of Utah with a law degree in 1979 when he moved his growing family to Reno. He worked for several Reno law firms over the years and was a skilled litigator with a lot of success in his career. Despite his success, he always treated everyone as an equal and was interested in everyone.  He was as friendly to the toll booth attendants as he was to his law partners.  For example, the janitor commented that Nick Frey always made him feel like an equal, talked with him on the elevators, knew his family members, and was sincerely interested in his life.  This doesn’t come as a surprise to those who knew him because he never considered himself better than anyone else.  He never met a stranger, and he genuinely wanted to know the details of people’s lives.  He paid attention to the answer when he asked how a cashier’s day was, and he talked with every person he ever encountered.  During her entire childhood, Cami remembers seeing the note “Spend time with Julie Ann and the kids” posted on his briefcase…then wallet…then planner…and eventually palm pilot or cellphone.  He always seemed to sense when we needed him to come talk to us about things that were troubling us.  Even as adults, he would often call one of us just as we were struggling with something great or small.

For the last ten years of his career he worked as a partner at Woodburn and Wedge.  He loved being an attorney, though it was stressful at times.  He said that his job was like perpetually being in finals.  You didn’t have a time card, but you had a big test that you needed to study for.  He believed in being a gentleman in the practice of law.  He discovered that it is far more effective to work in a sometimes caustic field by being kind. One of his favorite parts of the job was the countless adoptions he performed over the years including when my husband adopted my daughter. My dad told the judge that it was wonderful to perform the adoption for his own offspring. Every Christmas he got countless postcards from families he had united, many through LDS social services. 

He took church callings seriously and dedicated enormous amounts of time filling them. No matter his calling, Dad magnified the assignment and was an influence for good in the lives of those he served, from the Blazer Scouts to the High Council.  He had great respect for the good things done through the work of men and women of many different religious affiliations.  He taught us that we should see the good in all people and recognize that we have much more in common with each other than we sometimes suppose.

He served in the Sparks Stake presidency and as Bishop, and for the last 10 Years in the churches public affairs where he had the opportunity to meet people from all faiths whose friendships he valued and enjoyed.  He dedicated countless service hours to the homeless via Family Promise and annually at card board box city.  He was also a dedicated member of the Sparks Rotary club for much of his life. 

He was a wonderful father. He encouraged each of us to seek personal guidance and follow our hearts.  He never wanted a certain career or future or spouse for us, and he trusted us to use our agency.  In fact, my brother Nicholas got exasperated with him once when asking him what he should do for his career, and dad mildly replied, “it was hard enough to make my own decisions.  How on earth would I be able to make yours for you?”   He encouraged each of us to seek personal guidance and follow our hearts.  He loved each and every son and daughter in law.  He often commented on how he had won the in-law jackpot.  Just last month, dad told me that one of his greatest joys on earth was having conversations with his adult children.

We are grateful he lived to see all of his five children married.  It’s heart breaking that he won’t be here for all the grandchildren because he was such a playful grandpa.  He carried the kids on his shoulders, played ring around the roses and London bridge is falling down.  He read countless books, played countless games, and sang songs.  He taught them silly games like “Boom-Crash” and “Pony Boy”—a song for which he never got the words right.  At every family reunion, he would be running around playing “kick the can” with the grandkids while the rest of us relaxed and talked.  He loved to take the grandkids for walks, and especially loved to walk over to the golf course just down the street from his house in the evenings where the kids would excitedly search for golf balls in the brush. He would stay out and never give up until every grandchild had found their own golf ball.  Recently, he played Ghost in the Graveyard with the kids, just as he had done with us when we were children.  He could hardly breathe because he laughed so furiously. He loved the thrill, but more than that, he treasured the children.

Dad loved to tease and play harmless practical jokes, but always in a way that everyone would laugh in the end. On April Fool’s Day, he gleefully switched clocks forward, exchanged salt for sugar, and proclaimed life changing news—he had our neighbors’ children in tears one year when he fooled us into believing we were moving.  He loved to laugh and consistently printed silly jokes and read them to us as we were held captive around the dinner table.  They were never funny, but his wheezy, infectious laugh was contagious so that we erupted in laughter regardless of whether or not he completed the punch line… which he rarely did. He was never diminished by other’s success. On the contrary, he genuinely celebrated and believed in all people.  He wanted everyone to live up to their potential and to share beauty on this earth.  He didn’t hesitate to tell those around him exactly how special he knew them to be.  He rooted us all on tirelessly; sometimes the lone cheerleader when we ourselves were incapable of understanding the magnitude of our value.  He always saw the best in everyone; gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, and was incapable of giving up on anything.  “No” simply was not a part of his verbiage.  

Dad was a lifelong learner and a voracious reader.  He and Mom read many books together as a couple…a sweet example that has been followed by all of his married children.  He had a curious and inquisitive mind and was always taking notes on information that he found interesting to share with us later.  He loved to be outdoors, hiking, walking…especially if there was a waterfall destination.  He kept an extensive journal which I’ve quoted here, but which will also take a life time to pore through.  He wrote about every meal he ate, which he denied, but every Sunday when he was working on his journal he’d call out, “Julie Ann, what did we have for dinner on Tuesday?” His favorite food was berry pie.  He married the right person as mom makes an amazing pie.  In the weeks prior to his accident he and mom went on a cruise to Alaska where they had a fabulous time.  Afterwards, he asked mom what her favorite part was.  She said, “the food.  It was so wonderful to have delicious food served to me in courses.  Anything I wanted.” He replied, “that happens every night for me.”

Dad loved traditions.  Every year we would go cut down a Christmas tree. Mom packed hot chocolate and we traipsed with dad through the woods for hours until typically returning to the first tree he found. Often our trees were up to ten feet tall.  One year, we found a particularly ugly tree which we’ve referred to as the Charlie Brown tree ever since.  He was an active member of the Sparks rotary club and took us to the Christmas and fall events every year.  He made a big deal out of our birthdays.  For weeks before he’d daily ask, “how’s my almost birthday girl or boy”? On Christmas Eve he read “Twas the night before Christmas” and the Nativity story from the Bible to us as we sang Christmas songs around the tree. We loved to visit extended family, but Dad and Mom made a point of taking us on family vacations in addition to visiting family.  Only our vacations feel in many ways more like adventures—visiting Redwoods, beaches, mountains, waterfalls and lighthouses.

Although, we feel that Dad was taken from us far too soon, we are grateful as a family for the many tender experiences we have had in these last weeks.  We have felt the presence of angels and the power of prayers.  It was a sacred experience to gather together as brothers and sisters with our mother as Dad’s spirit left his body.  We are thankful for the legacy of love that Mom and Dad have taught us.  We are grateful for the miracle of the Atonement and Resurrection of our Savior Jesus Christ.  More than ever, we understand what a gift this is. 

In the beginning of his life history dad wrote,  “I trust that you in considering my life, will reflect upon your own, and I hope that my life may help you see the paramount values of the gospel, its attendant joy and peace, and encourage you to serve your fellow man, and your God.  Finally, may we as a family enjoy Eternal glory and dominion together through the Gospel of Jesus Christ, restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith, for verily, it is the truth; may we therefore fully embrace it.”

Dad encouraged all he knew him to live a better life, be a softer, kinder person, and follow the will of God. He was successful at this in life, and continues his influence in death.  For I feel more now than ever that I need to live a life that would be pleasing to him that I may return to the tender embrace of both my heavenly and earthly fathers.  It was an honor and a privilege to call him dad.  The world is a better place because of him. No doubt the heavens are too!