Last week was the funeral for my aunt Liv.
We met, 8 cousins and one uncle (plus in-laws, second cousins of Serina e.t.c.).
Somehow this funeral was not only depressing, but a rare meeting of much appreciated family.
The man on the picture, my uncle Kaare soon 89 years of age, is still living in his home. He has some help of his daughter sitting next to him and nurses to see to his unhealed hip, but he's coping day by day in his own. He is also doing some gardening, he is and always was an outdoor man.
Never ever heard him complain. His wife was ill for a good many years, he never let her alone for a single day.
When he was seven years old my grandfather and my eldest uncle went to America to earn money to buy a new far to replace the nice farm he lost because of the depression.
"You have to be the man of the house now," my grandfather instructed, even though there were four elder sisters left.
My uncle took his burden on his shoulders without a word. My mother tells, he never played like his three younger siblings. He was the man.
Even reduced after years of pain and illness, he still is The Man.
I hope you can see what a great fellow he is and has been.
When my mother nursed my father and my aunt Henny nursed her husband, uncle invited them to stay with him for a fortnight several summers. The three siblings had a wonderful time together, laughing, remembering, forgetting all their sorrows.
I just thought I'd write these words while he's still amongst us.
and it shows.
You are generous with your time,
giving of your energy,
lavish with your unselfish deeds.
I will remember your kindness to me.
Thank you for brightening my world
with your thoughtfulness.
It really meant a lot.
My uncle Kaare with cousin Anne Marie by his side and I on my knees before him. One of those fairytale summers on my grandparents' farm.
