I often reminded him about those books, but he didn’t know where they were. My uncle died some years ago without ever returning the books. Today we attended the funeral for his wife. a wonderfully strong woman who had a life worthy of a novel. It was a beautiful funeral with many friends, music and flowers.

And – the two books were found among their things in the apartment. They are finally returned to us! They were written in 1924-1925, so almost precisely a hundred years old. As a child I was enchanted by the beautiful handwritten pages in ink, and the many colourful sketches he made on almost every page.

Here’s a couple of quick shots with my phone:

Life is indeed using mysterious ways to connect us. I am immensely grateful to her nieces who finally found the books and returned them to me. I am the only relative left who have seen them before and remembers them. I feel so rich and blessed today.

Gratefully,

Ann-Christine