The whole family came…because of me.
I was turning his youngest daughter's world upside-down,
(in the nicest possible way I could muster, really) -
but it was important to me, and to his aforesaid daughter -
that he get a chance to see that for himself.
It was, unequivocally, the easiest 'meeting of the parents'
that I've ever experienced. We were all a little shy at first,
except maybe for Lene, who had known me the longest.
He, on the other hand, was wide-eyed, had his hand out immediately
to shake mine before even getting close enough to clasp.
He came toward me with a big smile, and gentle eyes.
Mor led him, helped him, and teased him occasionally,
but most importantly loved and cared for his every breath.
Many people would lead me to believe that I didn't really know him,
because I didn't know him before.
Before he went missing.
Before he turned their world upside down.
Before he was found in the parking lot of a place he was once
so familiar with, he could probably have driven there with his
eyes closed.
Yet, there he was in that parking lot, lost.
...and I'm told I never met the man who pulled into that parking lot.
But I did see, and I did know the man he became.
He and I connected immediately. He and I shared the experience
of being surrounded by three crazy, lovely, do-they-stop-talking
and did I mention crazy - women - with one important thing in common
…him.
He and I would share a look when they were all arguing over -
or, as they'd rather refer to it, debating - one thing or another.
A here we go again kind of a look. We also shared a great
appreciation and understanding for silence and calm…and,
for the first while I knew him, he was in a good place.
We enjoyed each other's company, not unlike the relationship
I had had with my own father, when we would just sit there
and be in the moment.
Nothing Earth-shattering had to happen.
Just being there was good enough.
I'm not saying that I wouldn't want to have had a grand debate
with him - like the ones described to me by Mor, Lene and Janne
when we were left to talk about him in past tenses. I'm not saying
that I knew anything about him compared to what his immediate
family knew.
I certainly wouldn't question that he could be frustrating or argumentative
or any of the bad things that I was told he could be -
once upon a time.
…but those trees fell in a forest in which I had never wandered.
Instead, I knew the man, who at every Christmas, was happy to have
his family cover him with all the bows from every gift under the tree.
I knew the man who loved sugar as much as I do,
and who knew there is no better time for dessert than right now,
...who loved good wine, good music and good company
and was not afraid to laugh at his own foibles.
He had lost a lot from the strokes, and from the smaller storms
that followed, and yes, there was a brightness in his eyes that would fade
when things weren't going well.
Every once in a while, however, to which Mor can attest,
that lightning bolt behind his eyes would come back,
and you could 'see' him.
The last time I saw him, he was in great pain, but still trying to put on
a brave face for his girls. I don't know if they were aware of that,
because the tragedy of what he was going through may have made it hard
for them to see the man they once knew as a force to be reckoned with
looking the way he did at that moment.
In my heart, I felt what was hurting him the most was having the people
he loved so much seeing him like that.
Then - although in afterthought, I felt it wasn't my place to do so -
I walked up to his bedside and pressed my forehead and bridge of my
nose hard against his, so that our eyes could not have been any closer.
Our relationship had been mostly unspoken, through gestures and looks,
so through our eyes, and in that moment, I tried to tell him that I hated
seeing him suffer, and that I was sure that everyone in the room would
understand if there was a better place for him to go. His eyes looked
like they understood mine. That's what I care to believe, at least.
I had no right to speak - even if it was only with my eyes - for anyone
else in the room. They were, after all, his immediate family.
I was just a guy who was lucky to have shared a friendship with him
no one else could have had, because of who each of us were when we met.
Today would be his birthday.
Wherever his spirit is now, I'd like to present them with these gifts -
which would not have been possible without him helping to bring his
youngest daughter - my wife - into this world.
I'll always owe him for that, and I promise him that his grandchildren
will know him through me.
For the brief time I knew him, Ole was my friend.
