I was born in the city of Salt Lake City in Utah, the Beehive State, at 7:50 AM on June 14, 1993. While most of the early and teenage years of my life I don’t really remember, whether because of medication, mental illness, trauma, general stupidity, or a combination of the above, I do have some fond memories of Utah. Specifically, I have extremely fond memories of the Buhler family.
My parents met Dave and Lori and were quick friends. My mom and Lori still are – they’re the type of friends who can go years without seeing each other or talking, and simply picking up right back where they left off and talking for hours on end. Recently, my mom told Siri to call “Laury” (my dad), but Siri mistook her command to call “Lori” (Buhler). Lori picked up, said, “Monica! To what do I owe the pleasure?” and then they talked for an hour and a half, despite not having spoken for several months.
Dave and Lori had two boys, Matthew and Spencer, who were close in age to my brother Jake and myself. As our parents were fast friends, me and my brother were even faster friends with the Buhler boys. I have many a memory playing Super Smash Bros., Gex 64, and other games on the Nintendo 64 in the basement of the Buhler home. Birthday parties, hangouts, and general nonsense were pretty common between us four. My dad took the four of us boys on something called “Wednesday Night Adventures”, where, in an attempt to give the mothers of some rambunctious children a respite from wrangling us, my dad would take us to various sites around Salt Lake City – up to the Capitol Building, out to the hospital to see the LifeFlight helicopter, up to Fort Douglas, and everywhere else that was free and available for little kids to run around. It was on those adventures where I learned a lot of things about reverence – when we saw the LifeFlight helicopter, my dad made sure that we were respectful, as he explained that the helicopter isn’t sent unless someone is really hurt. The really great part about Wednesday Night Adventures, aside from the general goofing and fun we had, was the Slurpees from the 7-11 we got at the end.
I don’t remember a lot of specifics about those nights, but I remember how I felt. Between Matthew, Spencer, my brother Jake, and my dad, I don’t think I could have been happier. Moving to Florida, where I had to make new friends, was very difficult for me. After all, I already had the best friend a kid could imagine in Spencer Buhler.
But, as life goes on, I made new friends and settled into life in Florida. The sting of moving away from everything I knew gradually faded, and I moved on. We stayed friends with the Buhlers, but being 2,000+ miles away made it slightly difficult to hang out.
When I was in the 10th grade, Matthew died by suicide. I vividly remember the sobs that wracked my mother’s body upon hearing that terrible news. It was a sobering day, and I have never forgotten it.
When I was 20, I submitted my application to serve as a full-time missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I was expecting a letter telling me of my assignment, I was instead told that I would not be able to serve as a missionary because of the medication I took at the time to manage bipolar disorder.
It was an extremely difficult time. But, through the prayers and support of others, I made it through a dark time in my life. One of those things that helped me get through this time was a letter from Dave Buhler. I hadn’t spoken to Dave in at least 10 years, so I didn’t expect a letter in the mail from him addressed to me. I still have that letter in a binder with all the other important letters I’ve received over the years. I’ve attached it below.
So when I heard the news that Dave had unexpectedly passed away last Tuesday, my heart sank. I was not ready to hear that news. Dave, a man whom I admired and respected, had died. A man whose family were near and dear to my heart were grieving the sudden loss of their father/grandfather/husband/brother.
While I don’t have many talents, I do feel like I’m a halfway-decent writer, so I wanted to write this as a tribute to Dave Buhler. He was a man, who, through his example, both directly and indirectly influenced me. I have always thought of Dave when I hear or think of that quote from J. Reuben Clark – “In the service of the Lord, it is not where you serve but how.”
I have tried to live my life in such a way that no matter how I act or serve, I can be proud of what I did. I hope that I can live up to the example Dave set in his life, and that I can be half as good a man, husband, and father that he was. And while I won’t get to see Dave again in this life, I know that I can see him again because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I know that I will be able to embrace him and Matthew, and I look forward to that reunion. But I’ll keep living my life the way Dave would want me to, and I’ll do my best to make him proud.
‘Til we meet again.
Nate Livsey 