Part One: Learning the News

I've been procrastinating blogging about a recent event due to the horrific nature of it. I think enough time has passed that I can do it now without breaking into tears...maybe.

On Labor Day, I went to Wal-Mart to pick up a few things when my phone rang. I dug through my backpack only to miss the call by a few seconds. My phone stated that it was a call from Montana. My first thought was that it was my inlaws since I knew they were vacationing in Canada. I did think it was strange that they were calling my phone instead of Landon's.

A while later the call came again. This time I was able to answer my phone on time. It was my father-in-law asking for Landon's number. I gave it to them and asked them how they were since I thought it was unusual that they were calling. The reply was "terrible." I asked if there was anything I could do to help. The answer was no, but that it would affect me.

On the drive home I wondered what could have possibly happened. Where they robbed? Scammed? Stranded? When I got home, I immediately asked Landon what was wrong with his Dad. He hadn't heard his phone ring, so he didn't know.

Landon called back the number that was on my phone and soon reached his father. He was told to sit down. I knew that couldn't be good. I began to hear words like "jail," and "autopsy" and "funeral." So many possible scenarios were running through my mind. By this time, it was obvious that someone had died. Finally I wrote "who died?" on a piece of paper. Lence was the name that was written. I was shocked and confused. Lence was young--about my age--and healthy. Immediately my thought turned to his wife and his five young children. What must they be going through? And how did he die?

The answer was unbelievable: he was shot and killed by one of his tenants. Many emotions ensued after that phone call. Calling his wife on the phone had to be the most difficult time emotionally. I didn't even talk to her. I just listened and cried. Hearing her voice and watching the pain surface to my husband's face and exit through his tears was almost too much for me to watch, but I wanted to be there for him.

Lence was Landon's only older brother. As a child and youth he always wanted to do what he did. They were both on the high school swim team, they both went into the Air Force, they both majored in math. At family family parties, they would debate for hours over many topics. Rare was the person who could join in the conversation--unless you were a Mortensen brother--it was practically impossible. They loved it and looked forward to the rare family party that we were able to attend since we lived so far away.

It was a true blessing that we were able to attend a family party six weeks earlier. We had arrived in San Diego a few days before the party, and had driven to Utah to see family for a brief amount of time. We then continued on our long drive to San Antonio. It would have been so much easier for us to have flown to Dallas and then made the short drive down to San Antonio with the justification that we could see family at Thanksgiving or Christmas. I'm glad we didn't.