This is a picture of my grandpa, Einar Swain Asmundson, and me, when I first got back from Costa Rica in February of 2007. This past week, I made a trip from Costa Rica to Washington to attend his funeral and be with my family. Afi (which means "grandpa" in Icelandic) was almost 98 years old (May 23) and he went home to be with the Lord on Good Friday, April 10th. I was blessed to be able to make the sudden trip back home and be able to attend his funeral and celebrate his life with the people who loved him and some of the many people whose lives he touched. My grandpa was the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most flexible, most accepting, genuine, and faithful man that I have ever known, and probably will ever meet. It was an honor to hear people talk about him, the kind of life that he lived, and the kind of impression that he made on people's hearts. I felt very proud to be his granddaughter.
In the airplane on my flight back to Costa Rica, I couldn't help but recall some of the things that I heard said about him, and the attribute and characteristics that he so humbly displayed. My dad did a phenomenal job in putting to words the kind of man he was. And hearing people like friends of my siblings and I, doctors and nurses that cared for him, and folks he saw at church on Sundays talk about the impression he had left on them was astounding. I'm inspired by his life, even moreso now than ever before, and it's my goal to live each day more and more by many of the qualities that he exemplified.
Up until now, whenever I have been asked who my hero is, I've always answered "Steve Largent" (any Seattle sports fans will remember him...) but that answer is changed now. It's Einar Swain Asmundson.
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