My grandparents had several friends from "the old country." Some knew one another in Norway. Some escaped before the Nazi's occupied in WWII. Some suffered the occupation then came over. They re-built their lives in Salt Lake. Every month they'd get together. They called themselves a “gang.” They played games, have Norwegian foods, reminisce, sing, and speak in their native tongue.
My grandparents were the the oldest in the group, and from what I gathered, my grandparents helped each and every one in their transition to the US. At Gramps's funeral, the gang sang Norwegian folk songs through their tears.
In the early 2000s, another man from Bergen passed away. My mother and I went over to his widow's home. Helga sat alone at her kitchen table rummaging through paperwork. My mother quickly helped her sort. Suddenly, a young woman walked in the back door. She was carrying a large platter for lunch.
I found out, this young woman lived across the street with her 3 small children. She brought this elderly couple 3 meals a day. Every. Single. Day.
My mother reached for her purse and tried to pay this young woman. The young woman scoffed. She said, "I'm making meals anyway, it's no problem to bring a plate over."
I found out, she had down this for a couple of years.
Helga held the woman's hand and thanked her, in Norwegian:
“Takk for maten.”
I glanced at the young mother and said, "That means, ‘Thanks for the food.’”
She smiled and said, "I knew it was thank you, but I didn't know the rest."
Helga died a few years later. This young mother was at the service. Her children were older now, and were openly weeping at the loss of their dear neighbor and friend.
All those years, they brought Helga meals every single day. As the children grew, they lightly bickered because each wanted to take the plate to Helga. They loved their beloved friend. Helga had become a pseudo grandmother to them.
My eyes misted over when I greeted them at the service. I said, "Thank you so much." They laughed and said, "Takk for maten."
The mother met my eye, and said, "I am the one who is grateful."
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What a beautiful story thank you