Six Years Ago

Today is the six year mark of the death of my friend, Joe.

Joey was just 22 years old.  He was married and had a beautiful two year old daughter.  He and his wife, Teresa, had been sealed in the temple a couple years earlier.  He passed away in a tragic car accident on a Saturday afternoon.  

Joseph Todd Larsen stood 6' 7" tall and could light you up from three point land.  He was known to say the things few would think and no one would say out loud.  He was misunderstood by some people, but when it came down to what mattered, the kid had a heart of gold.  He was the one that, as high-schoolers with no money, would buy a bag of burgers from Arctic Circle with his money because I was hungry and then let me eat more than him.  He was the guy any farmer in Fairview knew would help when they needed an extra hand, no matter the chore.  He was honest.  If I said or did something he thought was stupid, he'd let me know.  Joe was a great father and he worked as hard as anyone I know for his family's happiness.  He was a loyal friend, he displayed more loyalty than a lot of people deserved, myself included. 

I think of Joe a lot.  Today, I was leaving my mom's house to go out to the Fairview Cemetery and visit his grave when my sister suggested I leave an Easter egg on it.  My first thought was "No.", but then I thought about it for a second.  Eggs represent new life and, in turn, the resurrection.  I picked up an egg and a marker and wrote on the egg: "Can't Wait" 

Thanks, Dad

for instilling in me a love for the outdoors.
for explaining to me at an early age that "if you can't use your left hand, you're only half a ball player."
for discerning when I didn't need punishment additional to my own feelings of remorse.
for setting an example of looking out for neighbors.
for always interrupting Saturday cartoons to make me work.
for showing me that we can bounce back from our mistakes.
for driving your truck and trailer to Albuquerque and back to bail me out of a bad situation.
for criticizing my grammar when it weren't good.
for being my friend.
for expecting me to abandon stupidity (and kicking me in the butt when I didn't).
for waking up early every morning to take me to basketball practices so I could do something I loved.
for convincing me the driveway should be shoveled now, not later.
for demonstrating that man is bigger than his struggles.
for letting me have a b.b. gun.
for noticing my accomplishments, big or small.
for not buying me a Nintendo.
for expressing it when you're proud of me.
for assuring I could do man things like change my oil and drink Pepsi.
for finding opportunities for the family to spend time together.
for helping me realize that wealth is in experiences, character, and relationships, not possessions.
for your part in giving me two brothers and three sisters who I wouldn't trade for anything.
for being sure that I spent enough time at the farm to appreciate my incredible grandparents.
for making me proud to be an Olson.