<< May we meet again

Some weeks ago, we lost a dear member of our family. Håvard, father to some and grandfather to many more, started his final journey.

As I go over my memories some things seem to be easier to remember than others.

I came rather late into his life, just as he was approaching the final station. I was one of those third parties that come to you because of their involvement with someone you hold dear.

After he passed, it took me some weeks to try and understand why our relationship worked so well.

I’ve come to build a home in this country; and despite having people that I love and care about, with Håvard the relationship was slightly different. The apparently large generational and cultural gap never was enough of a challenge for us not to laugh or tell a story over a cup of coffee.

More strikingly, he always seemed eager to share some piece of knowledge; sometimes in the form of a poem, sometimes Ibsen, others Øverland or our endless debate about the holiness of king Olav.

The more I think about it the more I’m convinced that we bonded through a shared interest in history, for me a way of integration, for him the events that shaped his life. I guess it’s true that as we grow older, we become our stories.

We just don't remember that often that behind the glorious sagas of Snorre and the brave tales of the war are men and women of skin and bone that struggled and experienced the same things we do:

Love, joy, sadness, the cold breeze of a ski trip or the warmth of a summer day.

All these wonderful moments unfold simultaneously as the great events of our time develop too. In the end we are in great part a product of all this happening around. 

As his time approached, during our very last conversation, he asked of the family to read me a poem. “So that Carlos knows how it used to be”- he said with excitement.

This very last poem he shared with me is Aust-Vagøy, a poem from the war.

Though hard as this may seem, I think his message was always one of hope, his life a testimony of character and strength. A true member of the iron generation, survivor of the great war, that never took peace for granted and always invited us to remember this as well.

May we meet again, Håvard. De kuer aldri oss…

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Notes:

*Aust-Vagøy by Inger Hagerup (1944):

De brente våre gårder.

De drepte våre menn.

Lå våre hjerter hamre

det om og om igjen.

La våre hjerter hugge

med harde, vonde slag:

De brente våre gårder.

De gjorde det i dag.

De brente våre gårder.

De drepte våre menn.

Bak hver som gikk i døden.

Står tusener igjen.

Står tusen andre samlet

I steil og naken tross.

Å, døde kamerater,

De kuer aldri oss.