At times life sucks really bad; this is one of those
times. My father-in-law just died and I’m utterly devastated. Though I’m a
mature person (should be at 70) I still have the pathetic belief (naïve hope)
that our parents will live forever or even longer than that. Sure they get
older, but dying? Not part of the overall plan. But he did, and I still don’t
like it – at all.
I met my wife-to-be in February of 1984 (at 5:30, if you really want to know). She is Swedish and I am Danish, so kind of an interesting combination. I knew even before I introduced myself to her, that this was it – I was hooked, in love and had found my true soul-mate. It took her a few weeks to realize the magic, in spite of me being Danish (giggle giggle). The magic has continued to this day and will till the end of time and no doubt a lot longer (I’m sure you can hear the violins, huh?)
After a few months of ‘dating’, we were informed that her parents were coming from Sweden to visit California. I don’t think we officially had been declared ‘a couple’ by her family, so this was the proverbial meet-the-parents deal. I was as nervous as could be, like really nervous. In ‘preparation’, as her parents didn’t speak any other languages than Swedish, I dived into learning as much Swedish as I could within the very short time available. Luckily I had studied Swedish (must have been some kind of an omen) back in high school in Denmark, so I felt semi okay with what I could ‘utter’, as we were on the way to pick up the parents in the airport – but I was still sweating in really weird places - a lot.
It was very important for me to be able to ‘connect’ with her parents, seeking that important ‘acceptance’, covering ‘I do hope they like me at least a little’. I fretted the ordeal, as it looked as a huge ‘ordeal’ at that moment. But at times when we ‘fret’, we luckily find that ‘what the heck was I worried about?’
From the moment we finally met, all anxieties exhausted and gone, I couldn’t have felt more welcomed and ‘accepted’. But it had never been and never had anything to do with a judgment of me, if I was good enough for their daughter. Stig (yes, his real name) spoke to me in his clear Swedish, and perhaps he slowed down the cadence; I soon found that was the way he spoke. After sweating a few gallons, I finally felt utterly comfortable and when I found that I could also be somewhat funny in Swedish, the ton of weights fell off my shoulders. It was an instant friendship with both parents and everything was wonderful.
Though death is the ultimate reminder of how precious life is, I must say that I always appreciated, enjoyed, and never took my friendship with Stig for granted. Yes, I acknowledged the technical term of ‘father-in-law’, but that never seemed to be what we were. It was so much more a friendship than something (my marriage to one of his daughters) that ‘legally’ brought us together. And I felt that from the moment we met – that was who he was and that was something I picked up immediately – lucky me.
Though being thousands of miles apart, it never really felt like it was. My in-laws would visit us in California often and travel with us from here to Hawaii, Yosemite National Park, Las Vegas, Southern California, etc. We would visit Scandinavia often and then with our boys. By the time our oldest was 23, he had already visited Scandinavia 16 times; we have been very fortunate that way.
Every single time we were going to meet up, my anxieties were raging. I found that I still wanted to be accepted because my wife was all and is everything to me, so my relationship with her parents and family was utterly important. But every single time we re-met, Stig and I picked up where we left off, perhaps a year ago or so; it never failed; and I was together with my pal again, chatting and laughing.
Both my in-laws and my wife’s siblings welcomed me, accepted me (even though I was/am Danish – ha ha). I felt an especially strong and loving bond between Stig and I, perhaps the only 12 year difference between us helped a bit, could be. Our conversations through the 32+ years were always fun and entertaining. Sure some of those conversations were sponsored by Gammel Dansk (a Danish national drink, high on alcohol).
There are so many moments and times of joy to remember, all stored in my heart forever. My wife and mother-in-law were going shopping in Stockholm, so Stig and I were paired up – no problem with that at all; kept us from hanging around outside the numerous Stockholm stores. It was ‘Water Festival Week’ in Stockholm so we went on the longest walk, looking at all the stuff, but much more so, chatting away and having the best of times. We ended up in a bar with an outside deck, where we sipped large beers. Stig was smoking at the time (stopped later on in life), so I (non-smoker) asked for a cigarette and there we were, with our feet up and inhaling the view of the Stockholm waterways. I think we both realized at that moment (as during so many other moments over the years), that life couldn’t get much better, couldn’t be more complete – the very top of a terrific friendship.
We chatted about all aspects of life, the simple things and complicated issues. We didn’t particularly agree as a rule, but always respected each others opinions. But for the most part, our conversations and our times together, were filled with laughter and fun moments – a lot of them. I would often tell Stig how much I loved and adored his daughter, just for him and my mother-in-law to understand how happy we were and what a grand relationship and life we had together. I can clearly see Stig’s expressions as he reacted uncomfortably (after all, he was Swedish). But I could also see how happy he was when I told him – often.
He was a proud man. He had worked hard to bring up his marriage and four utterly wonderful children. He regretted the earlier times away from his young family as he build a business and made a living for them all. I would ask questions about it, and he would get emotional. But when I kept pointing at his ‘children’ today, how they all had succeeded on so many levels, I saw him exhale and acknowledge what he had done was not bad at all. I often tried to translate the ‘cake and eat it too’ syndrome into Swedish, but couldn’t, though Stig knew precisely what I meant.
Over the many years I had the privilege to be around him, to observe his relationship with his children and with his wife, whom he loved so very much. The way he looked at her, being in love so many years later. I saw how he would sit there in the middle of a party or dinner, observing his children who he loved beyond anything and his children loving him back, no borders. He looked with pride at his grandchildren and great grandchildren. I always saw a satisfied look in his eyes, a look of appreciation, of understanding that he had done just right, had actually done utterly well. But he would never say it – but I could clearly see it.
Last time we were in Sweden (June 2016), I told my wife that I wanted to spend as much time with her father as possible. I had seen him getting ‘older’ since the last time we visited. So Stig and I (with Gammel Dansk) spent a lot of time together. We chatted no end, laughed a lot and found yet again, that life couldn’t get much better. It was an awesome time with my awesome friend – and it was the last, as I had an inclination that it would be – but I never told anybody. When I hugged Stig goodbye, I felt very saddened indeed.
Then he was hospitalized; some cancer issues. My wife flew off to Sweden right away and stayed with her siblings and her father for a couple of weeks. A few days after she returned to California, her father was sent home. But then he was returned to the hospital, had a bad stroke (none of them are any good) and it did not go well from then on. My two sisters-in-law and my brother-in-law stayed with their father day and night. I am in such awe of the love, care and respect they showed their father – not that I was surprised. Just a privilege to know then – it really is, and not just because of that.
And then last night, we were told that Stig had died, passed away quietly, finally found his peace. My buddy was not here physically anymore, but he will continue to live in my heart, of course. My love for him will NEVER die – ever.
I have no regrets in my relationship with Stig. He was an easy friend, not a lot of complications at all. I never took him for granted, but more so always looked forward to our get-togethers. We never ran out of things to talk about, never ran out of things to laugh about. We could also just sit there all quiet, and we both fully understood that was okay as well.
Of course I miss Stig, but also accept his passing as part of being life as it really is. I also miss him because we had more stuff to talk about, so much more to explore and so much more to laugh about. I can clearly see his face, the smirk that always told me that we fully understood each other; on whatever level it was, we were just such good buddies.
My father-in-law? Yes. An excellent friend – much more so; now tucked away in my heart - forever. This sweet and proud man, my great buddy, from the day we met (and now I’m tearing up…)
Stig & Mimmi (June 2016)
