My husband, Frank, died twelve years ago and I dreamed about him last night. So I thought I would write about him today. He’s gone, but he was one person that was hard to forget. He was a rugged fisherman and hunter, but a very gentle man too. He had big hands, yet somehow he could manage the most intricate things. He could thread a needle for me just as easy as he could climb the highest fir tree! When he held a baby in his arms you could see in his eyes how gentle he felt.
His life took him through many storms. He was in the army for three years in World War II, fighting mainly in Italy and France without a break. And he stayed in the Natural Guard after he was discharged. This,he was sorry about because they sent him to fight again in Korea.
His wife was very ill for several years and died a few years before his only child, Kathy, was killed in an auto accident. He worked at the mill climbing the high electrical poles for over 30 years some of them were while we were married.
One day his fishing buddy told him he really should go to church, which he did. I was Parish Worker at that church and he took a liking to me. He liked my children too. He told his buddy that he really didn’t want to marry a widow with three kids but he did and he was a wonderful husband and father.He turned his life over to God and never stopped telling others the story of his wonderful Savior.
His death left a big hole in the lives of me and our four children.They keep saying, “Dad always said this, or Dad did things like this.” I believe we will never forget this very humble and gentle man.
GramMa's Thoughts 