I would love to share my memories with all of you, but I’m not up to it right now. We’ll see.
Going home to our own house tomorrow for the last time, trying to stay at home till the end. My wife is a nurse and will try to handle all the medicine. There are so many last times for everything now. Every single one makes me cry.
God bless you all.
regards,
Håvard
Haavard,
My prayers go out for your daughter and your family. My wife and I were blessed with our daughter Isabella Grace on February 24th. Every day when I come home from my job, I spend every moment I have with her. I read your earlier posts and you have been an inspiration to me and to my family. We can never know when it is our time to go.
I just lost a student to a dirt bike accident last weekend, in Glamis, CA. I used to love reading his creative essays on surfing and riding his motorcycle. He approached me the Thursday prior to his accident on Saturday and asked if he could take my quiz when he returned. The quiz is still on my desk, waiting for him to take it. He occupied a desk next to mine, and we used to talk surf. Now his desk remains empty. I performed “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan at his memorial and organized a paddle-out for him. I looked at his mom and dad and tried to imagine what they were going through. I couldn’t and still cannot imagine the loss, nor do I ever want to have to go through that myself. It’s hard to make sense out of death when it happens to a young child. I came into class the next school day, and was given a form letter to read to my students regarding the death. I tossed it in the garbage and told them it wasn’t my style to read someone else’s words. Instead, I put my lesson plan aside, and I told each and every one of my 78 students that I love them, and let them know what they mean to me and what they mean to their parents. I cried trying to explain this to them and didn’t plan on doing that. After I regathered my emotions, I told them to Enjoy their life… every waking moment of it, and to spend every moment they can with their loved ones, making the most out of life, because when it all comes to fruition, we ralize that it is later than we really think. I don’t know why I told you this story. Perhaps help you to know you are not alone. Perhaps to help you prepare. All I know is that God must need your daughter for something special… he always takes the good ones… which for us is too bad, because we could sure use them down here.
Anyway, I will keep you in my prayers, and I will ask for a miracle… they do happen. If you’ve never had faith, maybe this is your chance. Maybe it can ease your pain to know that every time I look at my daughter Bella, I think of you, your family, and your daughter, and I hug her and let her know I love her. Even though we may not have known you or your daughter, there are those of us who have learned your pain and are letting this be a lesson to all of us to make the most out of life – to let our loved ones know what they mean to us. Your daughter will always live through your memories, and will definitly live through ours.
May God bless you with a miracle, and if he chooses not to, may you learn whatever lesson it is he is trying to teach you (and all of us) through this special child.
Sincerely,
David Falkenau
Carlsbad, CA
P.S. - if there is ANYTHING I or my family can do for you and yours, please do not hesitate to ask… 619-757-0100
Hey Håvard,
My girls wishes to Ida are on their way…
Feverish activity in my house last night…
