Goodbye, Uncle Norb

Norbert Bohr

March 12, 1940 - July 2, 2021

I hadn't seen much of my Uncle Norb and his family in thirty years when I decided to get back in contact with them some fifteen years ago. I hadn't had any sort of a falling out with them, but after Mom died, I'd completely drifted away from her side of our family. I sent them an email out of the blue one day, asking if they'd be willing talk to me some about my mom and their family if I came to town.

The answer came quickly - yes, they'd be happy to see me.

I was a bit apprehensive as I made the long drive up and across rural Iowa to their place in Decorah. Would they really want to talk with me? It had been a long time; perhaps it was too late to try to revive the connection.

My fears were firmly laid to rest as I wearily pulled into the yard. Uncle Norb was standing outside the front door; he'd clearly been watching for me. His arms were stretched open wide, his grin spread from ear to ear. Every part of his stance said, "Welcome home. We've missed you!"

We had a lovely visit. He told me stories of my mom, gave me a glimpse into how his life had been shaped by his place as the second-youngest of fourteen siblings (twelve of whom lived past early childhood). We talked some of my grandmother, who I'd never known well - turns out she was more caring and loving than I'd realized.

He told me some about the years he'd worked as a lineman for the power company. We went to watch one of his grandsons play football. I got to ride with him a few turns around the field as the drove the tractor to bring in the corn harvest.

My heart was full by the time I left just a day or so later.

We've stayed in touch since then. His wife, my Aunt Diane, has been wonderful about sending me quick updates with family news; I've sent them my annual Christmas letter. I was able to get back up to Decorah to help them celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary a few years back.

The news has been harder to hear in recent days. His brain was succumbing to the ravages of dementia. When he contracted pneumonia, and it took solid hold of his lungs, his family knew it was time to let him go. They brought in hospice to ease his passing, and the kids took turns standing vigil with Aunt Diane.

I like to think, as he left this world for the next, he was met by the many people in his family who walked that road before him. I hope they were standing at the door with their arms open wide, grinning from ear to ear, saying,

"Welcome Home!  We've missed you!"

Rest in Peace, Uncle Norb. I will miss you.