Remembering Opi

Opi, the father of my father, died today. He was born in March 1936 and lived to the age of 82 years. He worked as a pastor for many years.

He liked silence and disliked noise. I share the same feeling. We both found peace in quiet moments. The last words he spoke to me were to find a wife. He said them with care.

We had heated discussions about theology and doctrine. We did not agree on everything. He taught me much through those talks, even when we saw things differently.

His faith guided his life. He served others with kindness and devotion.

Rest in peace.