No Coincidences

Tag: RIP

  • Grandpa Frank

    Grandpa Frank

    My most vivid memory of Grandpa Frank, aside from the “Wogs” (the nickname he had for me) and sitting on his lap as a kid, being squeezed into a ball, and being told I would grow up that way, is a few years ago when he bore his testimony in a church meeting. Paraphrasing, Grandpa said:

    “I miss my wife. I miss my daughter. I miss them so much. But this Gospel tells me I will see them again. That means more to me than anything. And I know it’s true, and that brings me so much comfort.”

    As the legend goes, Grandma Leach converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in her early 30s. While Grandma lugged kids to church every Sunday, Grandpa Frank would watch football, golf, or go fishing. He seldom attended. He showed little to no interest in church.

    Again, as legend goes, after over a decade of this, the bishop of Grandma’s ward came to the door one day.

    “Are you excited for this Saturday?!” He asked.

    “What is happening Saturday?” Grandma asked, confused.

    “Frank’s baptism!” The bishop exclaimed.

    Grandma had no idea. For months, on the sly, Grandpa Frank had been meeting with the missionaries and studying the Book of Mormon. He decided it was true. I have no idea why he never told Grandma. I don’t think anyone knows. Maybe this is where I get my secretive, stubborn, frustratingly independent qualities (sorry Beth).

    That Saturday he got baptized and proceeded to go to church with the family from then on.

    What is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, really?

    Change. A man who preferred football, golf, or fishing realized the most important thing in his world was his family. He sacrificed what he wanted to do on Sunday for them.

    What is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, really?

    Faith. A man who decided to believe something extraordinary: he could and would spend eternity with those he loved most.

    What is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, really?

    Love.

    I didn’t cry when I heard Grandpa died. I know I’ll see him again. I know where he is. I know he’s happy.

    As I write this, a vision comes to my mind.

    Grandpa Frank sees Grandma Sandra. He smiles. He is overjoyed to be reunited with the love of his love, his constant companion until the previous four years separated them temporarily. He embraces her. “It’s really true, Sandra?”

    “You always knew it was,” Grandma tells him.

    Others come. Grandpa is surrounded by Laura, Mike, Henry, Olivia, parents, grandparents, friends, loved ones, and Bengie, of course. They rejoice. People (and a dog) he missed so much, but always knew he’d see again.

    As I picture this reunion, and I think about where I am, similarly stubborn and obnoxious as Grandpa Frank, I think about my daughters, and this family I’ve been given. I think about the faith I’ve gained because I’ve seen examples of real faith. Faith as tangible as this keyboard I now type on. Grandpa Frank’s faith was real. I think about those I’ll one day see again. I think about those I have in my life now, that I’ll be able to have in my life forever. As I consider this all, I cry tears of joy.

    This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

    I know that Grandpa knew it and I know where he is now.

    What greater comfort is there than this?

    Thank you, Grandpa, I’ll see you soon.

  • Mike Leach

    Mike Leach

    In the Spring of 2009 Uncle Mike helped fund a trip for my entire family to go to a Club Med to celebrate my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary. I was an extremely moody teenager at the time. It was still a memorable experience. That’s the kind of trip you never forget. Participating in trapeze acts, golfing, boogie boarding at the beach, paddle boats, volleyball, skate parks; that was a fun trip. I wonder if that was the last time the whole Leach family was together. It had to have been. Laura moved on in May of 2018. My grandparents made it to 63 anniversaries. Grandma moved on May of this year.

    When my brother Dresdan received the Melchizedek priesthood, my family went to St. George for the ordination. We went to my brother’s church that day. I remember my Grandpa Frank bearing his testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Grandpa talked about the pain involved in burying a child when Laura died. He’s since had to bury his best friend/wife and now his oldest son. My heart goes out to Grandpa.

    Grandpa talked about the pain of saying goodbye, but in his testimony, he pointed out the most important thing. He emphatically testified that day that he would see Laura again. I know that my grandpa knows he will also see Grandma and Mike again.

    When I talked to my mom hours after Mike passed, she said Sharon was doing surprisingly well. She was strong. Not that my mom needed any reminding, but I mentioned how important our faith is in these moments. When you know you’ll see someone again it becomes a painful, but endurable goodbye. My Aunt Sharon’s strength comes from her faith. I know my cousins will be ok too.

    Mike was a man of deep faith. It warms my heart to think of him with Grandma and Laura again. It saddens my heart to think that my cousins and aunt will have to go so long without him. I hope they remember, it’s a couple more decades, and then eternity.

    61 is a young age to move on. So is 71 and 81 and 91 and 101. Goodbye is goodbye, no matter how old you are. It occurred to me that if I move on at 61, Sage won’t yet be 30. I can’t imagine not seeing Sage reach 30. Mike didn’t get a chance to see his two youngest children reach 30. My heart aches for them.

    Mike is my mom’s oldest brother. I say “is” because, if you read my blog, you know I know he’s not really gone. He’s still her oldest brother. He’ll forever be her oldest brother. My mom has said in the past that I remind her of Mike. Few see the resemblance. I think my mom’s view comes from him being her oldest brother, and I am the oldest of my siblings. I like to think I’m like him. He was able to show his brilliance to so many people through football. Mike Leach will go down in history as one of the most innovative college football minds of all time, and most interesting. His impact on this world goes far, far beyond football. The most important thing he ever did was be a husband and a father. I think he would agree. I look forward to asking him one day.

    Last year I “interviewed” Uncle Mike. I read a lot of books that say to talk to the successful people around you. Pick their brain. My Uncle is one of the most successful people in the history of his profession. What a person to interview. Mike was a busy man. He spent over an hour on the phone with me, answering my questions.

    I want to share something Mike said to me that night that I think encapsulate the way he lived his life.

    I asked Mike what’s something he believes that others think is crazy. His response was, “People put limits on themselves. Perceive where you’re going, value the journey.”

    I also asked Mike the question we all wondered: How and why did you get a law degree and then end up coaching football? He said that since he was very young, he enjoyed coaching. He got his law degree and then he realized, if he didn’t try coaching right then he might never do it. He didn’t want to give coaching a try when he was old and retired from law. He didn’t want to look back and wonder what it would have been like to coach. Thank goodness for the world that Mike Leach gave coaching a try first. The world would have missed out on some classic and memorable Mike Leach moments.

    “Perceive where you’re going, value the journey.” I think Mike valued the journey. I think he will value his new journey. I can picture him, so joyful, reuniting with loved ones now. I can also feel the pain in his heart for the time he will go missing his wife, children, and grandchildren.

    Life is short. We say that to remind ourselves to live it to the fullest. It can also be said to remind ourselves that goodbyes here are always short in the grand scheme. He’ll be united with his family again. He knows that, his family knows that, Grandpa knows that. Death is made bearable in its short-lived victory. Ultimately, death has been defeated already. Its victory is a farce, though the pain we feel is real.

    For a guy who is often described as the most quotable person in football, there’s no more fitting way to end this than with a legitimate Mike Leach quote. When asked how the Mike wanted to be remembered and how the Mike Leach obituary should be written, Mike responded, “well that’s their problem, they’re the one writing the obituary, I mean, what do I care? I’m dead.”

    Mike, we’ll miss you. We’ll see you soon.

  • RIP Coach

    RIP Coach

    I often think about the people God put around me in my life.  I’m obviously not the center of the universe, but sometimes, when I think about all those who have looked out for me throughout my life, it’s hard not to feel like that.

    There’s an individual in my life who played a critical role at two of the most important junctures in my life.  He was a dear friend, coach, mentor. 

    What’s so funny is, Coach Gonzalez never actually coached me.  Jessie Gonzalez was the athletic director at my high school.  Coach Gonzalez got close with most of the teams he looked over as athletic director.  The basketball program was no exception.

    My senior year at Cimarron we went to a tournament in Hawaii.  Coach Gonzalez came on that trip to “watch” us, or chaperone, I guess.  On that trip, Coach Gonzalez went from Coach Gonzalez to Gonzo, or just Coach.

    Gonzo looked out for me throughout high school.  Many don’t know this now, but I needed a lot of looking out for at that time. 

    I had bonded with Gonzo a bit on the Hawaii trip, but he wasn’t someone I would have considered a close friend or confidant.  That is until I really, really needed someone to talk to.  Then he was there, at the most difficult time of my life.  Somehow, for reasons I won’t understand until I see the bigger picture, Gonzo was the phone call I made.  He helped me through some very difficult things. I look forward to speaking to God, and Him showing me how critical that moment was.  I look forward to seeing why Gonzo was there at that precise moment, and why God made sure I reached out to him.

    We stayed in loose contact as I left high school.

    Gonzo had a few of us he took under his wing and looked out for.  I felt truly blessed to be “one of his boys.”

    After high school, this fascinating thing happened where the roles Gonzo played in my life morphed.  He went from 100% mentor to 50% mentor and 50% friend.  Gonzo was only 11 years older than me.  Not that many years, in the grand scheme. 

    In 2015 I went to a birthday party in Houston.  It was a relative of Gonzo’s and made no sense for me to be there.  It was really just an excuse to go to Houston and see Gonzo, who had moved to Michigan, and I hadn’t seen since high school.  That trip is so memorable.  I’m not going to elaborate any further.  During that trip Gonzo stayed a 50% mentor but also became one of my closest friends, a lifelong friend.

    The second, extremely critical cross roads in my life-  I was trying to return to church.  Who did I turn to?  Who talked me through a year plus of difficulty, repentance, trials, temptations, questions, doubts, uncertainties?  Countless hours were spent on the phone with him.  He was going to see me through.

    Gonzo isn’t a member of my church.  He’s a member of a grander organization.  He’s a brother and an angel that was here to look over me and guide me.  I’m not sure I’d be an active member of my church today without his guidance. That was the power of Coach.  He didn’t need to be a member of my church to help me with something so important.  He only needed to listen, love me, help me.

    Another moment I’ll never forget, I was only a couple months into trying to return into activity in the Church.  Satan was hard at work in those first months.  I could go on and on about what he put before me during those months.

    One of those temptations was a staycation at my favorite place at the time, Talking Sticks Resort.  I was still playing poker.  During this weekend that TSR gave me a free suite to stay in, there was a huge summer pool party.  My room overlooked the pool, of course.

    Imagine me for a moment.  Just a couple months into not drinking.  Here I am at Talking Stick Resort, in a super nice room, overlooking a pool filled with beautiful people and all my temptations.  I was literally in the great and spacious building.  I had alcohol in the fridge.  For those who don’t know this feeling, I can’t describe the pull.  I don’t have words to describe the need to drink alcohol, go to the pool, let myself fully embrace this staycation.

    I had worked so hard.  I was going to church and making good choices.  Surely, I could give myself this one weekend, right?

    I was going to drink and join this party.  There was really no doubt.  As much as I told myself I wouldn’t, I was going to. 

    I can’t remember if I called him.  There’s a chance he called me.  I talked to Coach Gonzo.  In true Jessie fashion, he didn’t tell me not to drink.  He talked me through it.  He told me it was a choice I had to make.  He reminded me how hard I’d worked to return to church and stop drinking.

    Then, almost nonchalantly, as if an afterthought, Coach said the most critical thing.  He said, “You can drink and get wild and crazy, but man, after not drinking for as long as you’ve gone, tomorrow is going to suck.  That hangover is going to be bad.  Hangover aside, how are you going to feel about yourself in the morning?”

    That was all I needed to hear.

    For those wondering, I did join the pool party.  I hung out, walked around.  I didn’t embrace the party.  I owe Jessie, Coach, Gonzo for that.  I may owe him my now 5 years of sobriety.

    Jessie Gonzalez left this stage of his coaching journey 6/8/21.  He had some new people to coach and mentor, and he couldn’t do that here.  I will miss him dearly.  I already wonder who I will turn to when I need to be guided through the next trial.  Part of me thinks he could move on because he already got me to the point where I can take care of myself.  Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need him anymore. The greater and more comforting truth is that you always need a mentor and friend like Gonzo, and he’s still there for me, more than ever now.

    He was light.  And he was joy.  Nobody brought together a room like him. 

    He protected me from harm while here, both physically and spiritually.

    I thought of something interesting last night.  It hit me that Gonzo likely, just recently, had his life review.  It brought me so much joy to think of him getting to see all the good he had done.  I considered him getting to see every moment he impacted me and how big a role he played in my life.  I thought about the net of goodness and light he spread while he was here.

    It brought a smile to my face to know that he got to see his Savior.  He was embraced, and loved, and free from the difficulties of this world.

    He can coach in purity now, for, a purer heart there never was. 

    I miss him a lot now. Though I can’t hear his voice or see his face, he’ll continue to be with me, coaching from above. I look forward to the reunion.

    I love you Jessie, Coach, Gonzo, and I thank you for all you did for me.