Father's Day

Since long my father lives in the Cherry Valley, where he has a timber frame house with large, sweet-scented rosebushes and a few spoilt cats. He’s busy busy in his little inventor workshop and he eats fried herrings with cream and cowberry jam just as much as he wants. Evenings and late nights there’s a whole lot going on in the debate club in his kitchen.

When he was still on this side of the Cherry Valley he was, due to a heart condition, a pre-retired daddy-at-home. My father was a real life Gyro Gearloose (Oppfinnar-Jocke), and he had always some odd, interesting little technical project going on. Like the very carefully invented verruca removal machine - which actually worked when he tried it amongst friends and acquaintances. Though alas he wasn't all that successful when it came to launching the product in the right places.

I've most always been a night-owl, it's at nights when I think my most amazing thoughts, and do my best work. Something which can probably be consider a legacy from my father. I remember our late night discussions where we guzzled tea. My mother used to fall asleep at the mumbled sound of our voices. The discussions could be about everything and anything, politics, history, literature, education, relationships, music and philosophy. I still miss those late nights, those discussions, those times...

My father could be such a know-all besserwisser, and oh the enormous effort it most often took to convince him otherwise... - but practice makes perfect. And let's just say I'm rather insistent when it comes to having the last word. And, I admit, there can be times when being a besserwisser is quite enjoyable. Although I'm slightly more diplomatic when it comes to presenting the knowing-it-all... And hey, I can actually admit I might possibly be wrong!

He was also such a true time-optimist and a substantial collector of "good-to-have-thingies" - um, another trifle inheritance there. But I'm working on renouncing it. Every day.

His heart condition was mainly held under control, but even so, over the years I became quite familiar with a few hospital corridors. When he passed away I was 21. We found him at home. An experience we very much could have been without.

At that time there was a lot going on in my life, and I think I was rather tired of having to be all considerate and lenient towards him, at uni and still living at home with my parents. So in a sense I took his demise somehow lightly. It was his time, we always knew, it wasn't completely unexpected, this is the way life is...

It is with time, with the years, that the loss, and some regrets, have come. Why didn't I take the time to learn even more from this artful well of wisdom and knowledge?

But of course I am grateful for the years we had together, for all our discussions and everything he gave me. The ability of independent thinking and miscellaneous thought overturns - sometimes a curse, others an enchanting gift. To challenge the mind, to figure out alternative solutions to problems, to question things and people, the self-esteem, to have the courage to go my own way and not anyone else's.

I try, with varied result, to manage the legacy well. Thank you for being there, for all those years, thank you for being mine, thank you for being the best of fathers.