A week ago on Easter Sunday my 96 year old Dad died. He was ready, but I was not. He had a wonderful life and everyone in his assisted living facility adored him. I was told he was a real gentleman, he was sweet, he sang so beautifully … When mother died seven years ago, we did not expect Dad to last long after her. They were married for 62 years and were still very much in love.
But that Norwegian optimism kept him going. Some days he thought I was my mother, some days he thought I was his mother, but after about a year he was back to his charming self and usually knew I was his daughter. This is one of my favorite pictures of them taken when I was a toddler.
Here is his obituary:
We are taking him home to East Hampton for his final rest, service on April 22 at 11:30 St Luke’s church.
It feels like a big piece of me is gone, the rock beneath my feet. I am looking at a beautiful alpine scene but wait, the Matterhorn is missing! It has taken me a whole week to write this post.
Hope you enjoy them as much as I do. Now for a few pictures: