Father’s day…it’s a pleasure to celebrate my wonderful husband who is a great father to our two sons. But there is the sense of melancholy on father’s day when I remember my own father who died in 1974. I was twenty years old. My husband and two sons never met my dad and that makes me sad.
My dad was the son of a Norwegian immigrant, Torkel, who left Norway when he was 17 years old to find work in the USA. He and my grandmother had one daughter and three sons. Torkel was a carpenter by trade and taught my father the skills so then he became a carpenter too.
Mt dad was a kind man. He seemed to be well-liked. Favorite memories include family road-trip/camping vacations. We pulled a wooden “crank-up” camper that my dad built. The crank-up was wood, not canvas, and very heavy.
It would have been nice to get to know my dad in my adult years. I think my dad liked to have fun and had a sense of humor and a sense of adventure…I wonder if that is where I get mine?
“The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who trust him.” Psalm 103:13