Puzzles / Family mysteries

This is the 20th or so puzzle we have completed since the pandemic started!

 

One of the things we have consistently found ourselves enjoying is working on puzzles.   Some of them are harder and more frustrating than others.  But I think that they are good for our mental health as well as well as our brain health.

Puzzles are a lot like sewing and knitting.  To me at least.  It's something to do that is removed from anything in the world.  It's something to do.  It's productive and there is (usually) something to show for it.  The added benefit of puzzles is that you can take the whole thing apart and put it away when it's done.  When I am knitting or sewing I have a goal and a "product" when I am done.  But it's not always something that I complete.  I have many unfinished projects (UFOs).  I have to constantly remind myself that it's okay to have UFOs.

Okay, here's a segue Dreams.  Dreams are so mysterious.  I don't often spend a lot of time or energy thinking about my dreams or even recalling them.   But recently I have had some dreams about my grandfather.  My father's father.

I never met my paternal grandfather.    He was simply not there.  He died before I was born and I think probably before any of his grandchildren were born.   But still, in many families, the missing person is still a part of the family.  We often speak of "Grandma did " this and that.  But my grandfather was rarely ever referred to or spoken of.    

I know that my grandfather was Norwegian, born in Farsund.  He and my grandmother (also Norwegian) met and married in the States.  They had five sons, my father being the third.     My grandmother toldme once that when her husband (my grandfather ) was ready to return to Norway with the family, Grandma told me that she told him that she would not go.  She said "I have five American sons I amnot going".  She banged on the table for emphase when she told me this.    I cannot remember ever hearing her talk about him after that.

I asked my father - or tried to ask what he could tell me about his father.  He grew angry and asked why I asked him about his father.  He asked why I dind't ask questions about his mother.  I told him that I already knew her.

 

My grandfather left America for Norway in 1939- the beginning of of the Second World War.  He died there in 1945.  Someone told me that the youngest son, my Uncle Jimmy, toldmy grandmother that with my grandfather gone, she wouldn't have to cry any more.   I cannot remember who told me that.

In 1996 I traveled from Australia to the States for Courtney's high school graduation.  I stopped in Oregon on the way to Virginia.   My sister and brother in law flew to Oregon to surprise me and to visit family.  My dad and step mother were there as well.

My sister, father et all went to visit my dad's older brother,  my Uncle Ralph.  Uncle Ralph has the beginnings of dementia.  Daddy and Uncle Ralph sat next to each other ahd held hands.  One said to the other (I cannot remember who) said "you have big hands like our father".  To which the other replied "he was a son of a bitch".

The gist of what I know is that my grandfather was not the nicest father or husband in the world.

Here comes the dream part.  I dreamed about my Uncle Jimmy the other night.  I dreamed that Uncle Jimmy and I were talking and I asked him to tell me about my grandfather.  Uncle Jimmy said that his father was a really nice man.  That when he (Uncle Jimmy) was little he enjoyed sitting in his father's lap.   I wonder if that's ture?

Huh.   There must have been some good in my father's family.  I'll never know.   My dad and all four of his brothers are all gone now.  I don't think that there's anyone alive now who knew my grandfather.

Life is a puzzle.