March 24 1939 was the day my father was born, so if he had lived he would be 70 years old. I have no idea where that photo is taken or how old he is in it, only know that he's the boy in the front. Will you just look at those clothes. LOL.
This is his confirmation photo, so it must have bin taken in 1953. He's 14 years old.
I don't know how old he is in this photo, but I'm sure it's taken before his 20 birthday. He was a quiet man, and absolutely not in the front of everything. But he was loyal and fun to be around most of the time (could be moody at times) and he absolutely loved Jazz.
This is the last photo taken of him, I think in early 1983. He died in a helicopter crash (in to the sea) not far from where I live on November 8 that year. He was a mate (first mate) and a captain with the Icelandic Coastguard. (Can't find a photo of him in a uniform at the moment). He also served as a navigator on the Coastguards helicopters or airplane for three months a year, so that's the reason he was on board. They were four that died that night. Two were found right away but my dad and the pilot were not.
Then over 5 years later, in January 1989 a darling fisherman from our town got a body in his shrimp trawl? not sure if it's the right word. Anyway, it was known right away that it could only be my dad or the pilot, and it was positively my dad.
I always thought that I was okay with him being missing, because that's how he wanted to go. Just go in to the sea and no fuss. But in the middle of the funeral I just broke down. Later I realized I had never really grieved for him so this was finally a closure, and it felt good. I had him buried here in the town where I live instead of Reykjavik where we are from. I thought it only right, here is where he was brought when he was found, and here I can take care of his grave.
I find it funny/sad that as I was 20 years old when he died I thought him ancient, but now when I'm over a year older than he was when he died I feel not old at all.