Father's Day 2026

 

Dear Frenchie,

Well, hello again—and Happy Father’s Day to you.

Later today, I will drive out and place flowers at your gravesite. I’m not sure why I go there as often as I do. I think I find peace in knowing your body rests there, even though I understand that your spirit has moved on.

Eric, you were the best of the best fathers. I am so grateful I had the privilege of raising our children with you. They are good, happy, and genuinely kind people. Isn’t that what success really looks like?

Most of the time, you and I disagreed about the consequences they should face for misbehaving. You wanted them to pull weeds in the backyard or clean out a room or closet that you probably needed to clean yourself. The weed-pulling punishment was especially difficult for me because Gary used to make us do the same thing. It was a real trigger, and I hated that rule. I probably raised my voice more than I should have.

Actually, there is no “probably” about it. I did.

I wish we could take back some of those moments, but I also believe they helped me understand both of us a little better now that you are gone. I have never liked the saying, “We did the best we could,” but in many ways, it is true. We made mistakes—some we would give anything to undo—but we also apologized, learned, and tried to do better.

Parenting without you has been sad and difficult. Since moving, I don’t see or talk to the kids and grandchildren as often as I might have if I had stayed in our Gilbert home. I miss that part of my life so much.

At the same time, moving has forced me to create a life with some balance. I have made new friends and found walking buddies in the neighborhood, including people you once sold homes to. I even started a Bunco group in the ward, and there is always a waiting list. They love it—and so do I. I also join the widows in my ward on Thursday nights to play cards. They are a hoot; of course, I am the youngest amongst them, but man, do they love to share life experiences I love. laugh and learn from.

Learning who I am without always being known as “Eric’s wife” or “Kayla, Blake, Kaitlyn, and Haleigh’s mom” has helped me discover more of myself. Don’t get me wrong—I still treasure those titles. They are among the greatest honors of my life.

But as I continue moving forward, I am also Monya Williams.

I am a woman trying to become a better person. I am learning to laugh at myself, to worry less about my facial paralysis, and to live fully even without the smile I once had. I am releasing the shame I carried about my mothering. I am grateful that the Lord entrusted these four amazing children to our family.

I will no longer allow thoughts of failure and unworthiness to take up space in my mind, and I will never place those thoughts upon our children. They are adults now, making their own choices and living their own lives. I love them exactly as they are.

You would too.

Happy Father’s Day, Babe.

I love you so much.

Anthony Gruninger :)

 

Dear Frenchie,

Today was exhausting. In fact, attending four funerals this week has been mentally and emotionally draining. But today was also so very special.

Anthony’s funeral began at ten this morning. I was incredibly proud of his nephew, Mele, and Bo Bigelow as they spoke so eloquently about Tony. Clyde Bawden played a beautiful medley on the piano, and, of course, everyone wore leis around their necks. Karen was so thoughtful to have them available for family and close friends.

It was an honor to be there—to cry tears of both joy and sorrow as we collectively gave our hearts and love to Anthony.

Anthony wanted to be cremated, so Bunker loaned Wayne and Karen a casket for the funeral service. I had never seen that done before, and I was grateful they could honor Anthony’s wishes while still giving everyone the opportunity to gather and say goodbye.

After the service, everyone was invited to the Val Vista Lakes Clubhouse for a Luau—and boy, was it a fun one. Garrett served as the master of ceremonies and did a wonderful job. There was Hawaiian food, music, and entertainment. You would have loved every minute of it, so would your sweet mom. I hope you were watching as we celebrated Tony’s life.

I loved seeing Polynesian culture represented so beautifully in his honor. My favorite moment was when Karen danced for her son. She performed a graceful Hawaiian dance and dedicated it to Tony. I’m not sure I could have done what she did. As she moved, I could feel her spirit shining through every step. When she finished, she received a standing ovation—and she deserved every second of it.

Garrett opened the microphone for anyone who wanted to share a memory of Anthony. When no one volunteered at first, they began calling on people.

You know I have so many memories of Tony, just as you did, but none of us have the memories that he and Haleigh shared. Besides, I felt that many of the stories I could tell probably weren’t appropriate for the microphone. LOL.

I stayed quiet because I am still so fragile after losing you—and now losing Anthony in Hawaii too. But one of my favorite memories came flooding back to me.

You and I were in Mexico with Anthony and Haleigh, and we attended church on Fast Sunday. I think they were only twelve years old. Together, those two best friends stood up and bore their testimonies of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I don’t remember exactly what they said. I only remember how deeply moved I was that they made the decision together and were brave enough to stand up. They didn’t know the language, but that is the beautiful thing about the Spirit. It isn’t always about the words someone speaks. Sometimes, it is simply about how those words leave you feeling.

I was so proud of them.

Oh, Eric, we have such beautiful, kind, and compassionate children. I like to believe they received some of that from both of us.

I know you would have loved the entire celebration. You would have been searching the room for people to talk to, making sure everyone felt welcome and thanking them for coming. I tried to do that too. You know I am trying to become a little more like you were—social, welcoming, and kind—without losing my humor or my genuine compassion for people.

When the mariachis arrived, I sat and cried because I knew you would have grabbed either Karen or me and insisted that we dance with you.

I miss you.

Nearly everyone who knew us expressed concern for me, knowing that Anthony had also died in Hawaii, just as you did. That connection made the day especially emotional.

Haleigh, our sweet, kind, and compassionate daughter, gave the closing remarks. She did a wonderful job describing her and Tony's friendship from the time they were only 10 years old. She thanked Karen and I for trusting them to be friends, and allowing sleep overs and many trips to Mexico. 

Anthony was kind, generous, and really lived his life to the fullest. He served others and loved to wheel and deal like you did. I am going to miss his laugh, his love, and most of all not being able to make new memories with him.

You know what? Because of the things that happened leading up to that day on the beach, I believe that somewhere in your spirit, you knew Heavenly Father was preparing you. Maybe you didn’t know it would be that particular day, but I believe you could feel that something was coming.

Thank you for talking with me that night and into the early morning about the things only you and I know. Those conversations have comforted, strengthened, and even sanctified me through some very difficult times.

I love you, Babe. Haleigh sent me these pictures! What a treasure I will frame them for our home.

Cathie Beecroft & Erika Garner

 

Dear Frenchie,

Today was the memorial for Cathie Beecroft, and on Tuesday I will attend the funeral of Erika Garner.

Cathie had been dealing with health problems for the past year and a half. Last month, she suffered a brain aneurysm. The doctors told Charlie and the kids that recovery would be extremely difficult and that, even if she survived, she would likely be unable to speak or have any real quality of life. She would need around-the-clock care.

Charlie and the kids were forced to make an unimaginably difficult decision, and they chose to let Cathie go peacefully—to move on to Heaven and begin her new life.

Curtis said he didn’t want to have a traditional funeral where everyone stood up and said only nice things about his mom when everyone knew Cathie was a tough cookie who could sometimes be a little difficult. I laughed because you and I both know exactly what he meant. But honestly, that was part of what we all loved about her.

So instead of a funeral, it felt more like a huge Sixth Ward reunion, which was probably exactly how Cathie would have wanted it. I was so happy to see how many people came.

It felt strange to be back in the cultural hall where you and I spent so many years. That room holds countless memories with some of the best people I have ever known. Being there brought so much of our life together rushing back to me.

Charlie told me how much he loved you. He said he is now going through what I went through two years ago. I tried to comfort him, but I know there are no words that can bring peace when the person you love is suddenly gone. Sometimes, all we can do is sit beside someone and let them know they are not alone.

Tomorrow, I will attend Erika Garner’s funeral. She lived in Las Sendas and was in Utah for a family reunion when she suddenly collapsed while playing pickleball. They believe she may have had a heart attack, but the family is still waiting for the coroner’s report.

Four of our dear friends have left us this week. They are gone from this life, but they will never be forgotten.

I love you, Babe, and I miss you so much.

Lloyd Ryan

 

Dear Frenchie,

I attended Lloyd’s funeral today. I don’t think I have ever been to a memorial where so many people laughed and smiled.

Lloyd was such a wonderful example to everyone who knew him. His brother spoke about how he worked at the hospital for more than thirty years. When Banner took over and introduced new policies, Lloyd didn’t like the changes, so he quit. You know as well as I do how difficult major changes in routine can be for someone on the spectrum. Good for him—he knew what worked for him and stayed true to himself.

He lived in the same ward for sixty-eight years. It was amazing to hear how many lives he touched and how much happiness he brought to others. He was never late for work, never missed a day, and followed the same routine each and every day.

They said he didn’t spend much of the money he earned; he saved it. I found myself wondering what he was saving it for. You did that too. You worked so hard and rarely enjoyed the money you made, except when we traveled together. I am so grateful for those vacations and the memories we created.

I would be amazed if anyone walked away from Lloyd’s funeral without wanting to become a better person. His life was quiet and consistent, yet his influence reached so many people.

I know how much you loved your family, so today I felt as though I was there representing you. I was surprised that no one else from your family attended. I called Kurt on my way home and felt terrible when I realized he hadn’t known that Lloyd had passed away. Raylani and Doran didn’t know either.

Even with the sadness, it was a good day—a day filled with laughter, memories, and a reminder that a simple life lived with kindness and dedication can leave a lasting impression.

I love you, Babe, and I miss you.

Anthony Gruninger (The Best)

 

Dear Frenchie,

This morning, Brian and I had a phone appointment with Nate Skinner, my probate attorney, who is now helping me with my trust so the kids and grandchildren won’t have to go through what I have endured these past two years.

When the meeting ended, Brian called me right back and said the words I knew would be followed by terrible news.

“Are you sitting down and in a safe place?”

“Yes,” I said, “but Brian, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

He hesitated, then told me that Anthony had been found dead in Hawaii the day before.

I was heartbroken. I loved Anthony. An uneasy feeling came over me knowing he had died so far from home. I asked Brian what had happened, but the news was still so new that the family didn’t have any answers yet.

I have been thinking about Haleigh all day. It is so hard not to be able to call her or wrap my arms around her. Oh, how I pray that someday she will let me back into her life. I miss her so much. I understand that it is out of my control, so all I can do is pray that she finds some kind of peace in knowing that she and Anthony created so many wonderful memories together.

Our family has such fond memories of him, and I have my own sweet memories too. He always had a smile on his face. I remember how much he worried about his mom whenever he thought she wasn’t doing well. He definitely loved his mama.

I spoke with Karen this week while she was in Hawaii, trying to make the final arrangements to bring Tony home. It was heartbreaking to talk with her and try to make any sense of this. Tony was so young—only thirty-three years old.

I remember taking him to Mexico with Haleigh and Kaitlyn and how much fun the four of us had. Karen and I always thought Haleigh and Tony would end up married. I think a lot of people believed that about those two.

I am also grateful that Haleigh and Scott found their way to each other. Scott is a wonderful husband and father, and we could not have asked for a better man to share Haleigh’s life.

I am learning to trust that, somehow, it will all work out according to the Lord’s plan. He has a plan for each of His children, and perhaps we are not meant to understand or figure it out. When it is our time, it is our time. But that doesn’t make it any easier for those of us left behind, missing them so terribly.

When Brian told me about Anthony’s passing, I immediately thought of you. I know how much you loved him. You two had a rough start, but over time, you learned to love and appreciate each other. I know you were proud of the man he had become.

I can picture you hugging him and welcoming him home to Heaven. I see you showing him around, then doing one of your little dances. And, of course, Anthony would answer with that famous laugh of his—the laugh I am going to miss so much.

So, while you and Tony are celebrating together, please know that the rest of us down here are heartbroken.

I love you, Babe, and I miss you very much.