Once upon a time, I met a young man who made me laugh and feel safe and happy. This young man became my lover and later husband. Wonderful as he was, he had an other asset - he had a father who came to mean a lot to me. Where my parents told me to put down the books and do some real work, meaning doing dishes, cleaning the house, working in the garden, helping with carpentry, fishing etc., the man to become my father-in-law received me with warmth and curiosity, treating me with icecream and blueberries, talking about books, about my studies, about life. He understood about academic ambition, he supported my yearning to travel, he cared about my struggles with research. This man, who came closer to me than most, died Sunday 22nd of April. Nobody knew until the 24th, because nobody worried about what might have happened to him when he didn't answer the phone. He was too active, too ready to explore the world to be missed when he didn't stay home for a couple of days. Tuesday his son missed him, after having missed an appointment.
The funeral will be May 2nd - and I will not be back at work until May 6th. This week is busy, but his life will be remembered. He understood that to some people, reading books can be real work. I am a very lucky woman for having known him.