President Morrow

The scenery had the decency to look a little New Yorkish. The Month of Rain was kind to Utah in its way, and the mountains were green around that Wendy's where a handful of returned missionaries gathered, nearly strangers, and yet undeniably linked to one another.

We had just come from the funeral service of our mission president, taken from us early--albeit not unexpectedly--by cancer. The service was beautiful and emotional, as one would expect. Members of the family and a member of the Quorom of the Twelve shared experiences about President Morrow, rightfully praising his enthusiasm and his relentless pursuit of the greatest things this life offers.

"This sucks," his wife said with rare candor. She smiled through tears as she hugged me and another two of her missionaries who had come to see her. We briefly spoke about our lives before going to see the open casket.

President Morrow looked different. I feel like the dead look smaller, besides being paler than themselves. I wanted to say something to him, but what to say? Was he even listening? Did I want to speak to him for my sake, or his own? I found myself regretting that I hadn't come up to visit him before, back when he could have answered what I was saying to him. One of his college roommates came to speak to me, identifying me as one of "Jeff's missionaries," and told me I was very lucky to have him as a president. I agreed, but in the tone of voice of someone who was bored, reading a script. I was lucky to have him as a president, but it felt vain saying so now.

Everything felt so vain, really. He was a great man, responsible in part for the development of many great men. I just couldn't imagine what I could have said or done that would have properly encapsulated how I felt, or who he was. And so I said very little.

And it was at Wendy's that the missionaries gathered afterward, speaking to one another of wives, of children, careers, education, and StarCraft. We about New York , but no one discussed the funeral, or President Morrow. Is that what he would have wanted? Did it matter what he would have wanted?

Yes, and yes, I think. President Morrow was not without flaws, but there is something I can say of him for sure: he knew us, and he cared about us. No doubt he would have loved to have come with us to Wendy's, in fact. I believed Elder Ballard when he said we could all know with absolute assurance that we'd be reunited with President Morrow again, and then he can accompany us to whatever the equivalent of Wendy's will be at the time. For now, he's there, but we're all still here. Frosties were, in their own curious way, a fitting tribute. Really, it was a nice time to come together and look back on the shared experience that made us all a kind of family.

And President Morrow was the center of that experience.

Godspeed, President Morrow. I look forward to seeing you again.