Einar Rise (Buster) Forberg

Einar (Buster) Forberg

Einar (Buster) Forberg

On Father’s Day I remember my dad – he was never father – although during our younger years my sister and I called him Daddy. I’ve written about him, his Norwegian immigrant parents, and all our other family members in “from Fjord to Floathouse.”

When Dad died we gathered in Campbell River to remember him. The evening before the memorial service his five grandchildren sat together and through laughter and tears developed a poem. During the service my youngest daughter read it with emotion on behalf of all the cousins:

Our Grandpa

In passing times and moments
we think of you again
you were so kind and gentle
you were our perfect friend.

It started with a knee ride
and song to make us laugh,
soon nature’s simple pleasures
were the beginnings of our craft.

Whistles, bows and arrows,
you made them from the land,
a man with understanding
and the largest pair of hands.

Respect is something special
you had it from the start,
we’ll always remember
this deep inside our hearts.

You see, there really is no end
for the memories stay within
this patient, gentle giant

Our Grandpa. Our Friend.