DOUG ASAY - PRESENCE

Doug and Julie Asay

This past Spring, when our friend Kathy Oleson died unexpectedly, we gathered in celebration of her life. As a Relief Society we prepared and served a luncheon for her family and close friends after the funeral service. With a good crew of willing and capable people in the kitchen I went out to visit with some of the family while they were eating. My friends Doug and Julie Asay waved me over to their table. I sat and visited a few minutes, interfacing with Kathy’s kids and grandkids, as well as my old friends Doug and Julie. We were no longer in the same church congregation, so we had some catching up to do. While we visited, Kathy’s little grandkids got a little restless, understandably, following a viewing, service, and burial. Doug leaned over and reached into a bag at the side of his chair. Out came two red plastic Corvettes. The boys were soon entertaining themselves on the cultural hall floor.  

“Of course you just happened to have toy Vettes in your bag!” I laughed. 

“Yes, and we brought butterflies for the girls in case they aren't into cars.”

Doug was a giver of presents. First of all, he knew where to find the cool stuff… the stuff nobody else had. One day he showed up in our driveway with a pair of speakers for a sound system.

“Can you use these?” he asked, setting them in my garage. This was years ago. I still use them. 

Once he had a beautiful small acoustic bass that had been damaged.

“You want this?” 

“Sure!” (We are kindred spirits this way. If anyone needs anything… anything at all… one of us probably has it. And if we don’t have it, Doug knows where to get it.) We had it repaired and it now belongs to our composer grandson.

The problem for us now is that Doug took that storehouse of knowledge, good humor, secret haunts for special finds, and remarkable ability… he took all of that and skipped town this week. Left these earthly bonds. Found the perfect glassy reservoir of water and went waterskiing up to Heaven.

This was not too long ago.
 He could hardly walk, but by golly
 he was gonna get up on those skis!

A few weeks ago Doug and Julie came over to our house for a sweet afternoon of music and reminiscence. Dave and my sisters joined us. We laughed a lot and cried a bit. Doug was frail, and not long for this world. He sat in the recliner and talked the talk of a storyteller. Julie kept the stories straight as they veered off in Doug’s imagination. It touched me to see how she gracefully allowed him to be his own storyteller. She has surely been a blessing to him.

Snuggled down for an afternoon in our family room.

Doug’s been sick a long time, and he has outlived what most doctors told him would be his lifespan with the liver disease he was dealing with. He’s a tenacious fellow, determined and driven, and his resiliency has helped them hobble through some rough blows in their lives. Julie has been his steady, in every possible way. When they came she brought a gift of aromatic bath salts for each of us. I am reminded daily of our blessed time together.

Doug is not just a giver of presents. He is a giver of presence. 

Years ago, decades now, our family suffered a great unexpected loss. We had united in a vigil over our eighteen-year-old nephew, Clayton. He had experienced brain trauma in a motorcycle accident. We watched as his beautiful healthy skin healed, and his bruises dissipated. But his brain would not be able to heal from the swelling. We huddled in our grief and celebrated his life, slightly comforted by the lifesaving donation of most of his healthy young body to the transplant healing of other lives. Still, the grief was immense. The light from the doorway at the back of the chapel was blocked by a form just as the services began. There stood Doug, miles from his home, showing up. He knew my brother, Clayton’s dad, through business and had heard of his loss. So, he showed up. His presence still moves us to this day. Always will.

Doug would be the first to tell you of his flaws. And he would be the first to be the hands of Mercy in your own struggles. Libby and I both say if we had gone to the same high school we all would have been best buds. He’s that intriguing blend of faith and mischief. 

By the end the faith won. Even when he used his very last ounce of energy to spark a little mischief. It was love and trust that won in the end. Julie, with every ounce of her own energy and intelligence, let Doug be Doug right up to the moment he flew away. His daughter Melissa spent every morning helping him begin to navigate the day. He laughed till he had no more energy to laugh, sitting in our recliner that last afternoon, telling us about getting up before Melissa did one day and putting on her clothes instead of his own. It was a mistake of a brain being taxed, but he rode it for all it was worth. Doug, and his devoted family, had learned from life experience to roll with the punches and ride the wake of every splashy oversized cruiser that passed them by. No matter how often he ended up down in the water, he always got back up. This is the eternal legacy that ease and comfort will not create. And while what Doug wanted more than anything was to bestow presents on everyone he loved… and even those he may not have liked very much… what he gave, that is uniquely Doug, was his presence.

We could all take a lesson.

The Asay Clan

I have this image in my head of the pearly gates of heaven opening wide for a shiny rebuilt Corvette as it purrs on through. Doug throws his arm up and waves. And depending on where you stand, its either good-bye or hello. Either way, there’s gonna be some sort of memorable story to be told.

 

https://www.russonmortuary.com/obituaries/alan-asay