Roots that Run Deep
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Time to read 6 min
Stavanger: Why Not? | Day 1
Setting out on our Norway adventure, I felt excited. I felt sad. I felt grateful. I felt nervous. And I felt all of it at the same time.
Leaving my husband and kids was much harder than I expected. Saying goodbye to my family and stepping into the unknown made me anxious. But then I read my sister’s pre-trip blog post and cried. Her words were sweet and gave me the comfort I needed. I’m still figuring out my why and pushing myself out of my comfort zone — but for now, the answer is: why not?
Sometimes, that’s all the reason we need.
The last few weeks have been exciting, exhausting, beautiful, and a little overwhelming. My oldest daughter, Taylor, got married last weekend. Watching her start this next chapter with her new husband, Anthony, filled me with so much joy. As a mom, all you really want is for your kids to be healthy and happy — right now she is both. And I am also incredibly grateful to my husband, Joe. He’s sweet, kind, patient (most of the time, haha), and loves me and our children unconditionally. I’m already missing him.
The drive from Pennsylvania to JFK was three hours, followed by the luggage situation. I tried really hard not to overpack. Apparently “tried” is the key word. The woman at check-in was hilarious. I explained our trip, handed her one of the In Search of the Vikings business cards, and told her what we were doing. She looked at it and politely handed it back.
“I don’t really like documentaries.”
Fair enough. I appreciated the honesty.
Once through security, we waited a few hours before boarding. Chris, the filmmaker, and Diana, the production manager, arrived shortly before the flight — both friendly, excited, ready for adventure. Meanwhile I was sitting there thinking: what exactly did I get myself into? Not only am I being filmed, but I’m spending two weeks traveling with people I barely know. Thankfully, they’re both wonderful.
Then came the flight. It was bumpy, and at some point I lost one of my earbuds — which meant I got to hear every single sound happening around me for hours. Mostly snoring.
I watched a film called The Last Viking — a dramedy about two brothers (one of whom believes he’s John Lennon). Beneath the absurdist humor, the film is ultimately a moving story about brotherhood and shared trauma, anchored by a fable about Vikings who each cut off an arm to make one injured brother feel less alone. A darkly funny parable about identity, mental health, and unconditional acceptance. Maybe the movie picked me. Somewhere over the Atlantic, heading toward the place our ancestors came from, the story hit me differently than I expected.
We landed in Oslo, caught the connecting flight to Stavanger, and arrived exhausted. Our luggage and gear barely fit into the car. Karen drove while I navigated; Chris and Diana folded themselves into the backseat with the bags. Everyone survived.
Our first stop was a café where filming began immediately. Honestly, I just wanted to wash my face, drink coffee, and stare into space for a few minutes. Instead: coffee and questions, on camera. We survived that too.
After a quick shower at the hotel, we headed out for a historical tour of Stavanger. Water is everywhere here, and being close to water always settles something inside me — it makes me feel grounded. Our guide Jamie walked us through the city: stories of King Harald, the Vikings, Norway’s history. We visited museums, tried a Viking VR experience, and saw the Viking Laws displayed on a wall. The very same Laws my dad brought home all those years ago.
I can sense him a lot lately — in little signs, in moments like that one. I’m not sure if what wins out is grief or love. Perhaps both.
Soul bucket overflowing.
A FULL HEART
Before falling asleep, I checked in with everyone at home. Taylor was in Mexico on her honeymoon. Joe was taking children with special needs out on a fishing trip — because that’s who he is. My son had surprised him by joining. My youngest had just finished another day at her new job. All of them, exactly where they should be. All the love that fills my life.
I was exhausted, grateful, overwhelmed, and missing the people I love. Thankfully, my sister was right next door. And somehow that made Norway feel a little less far away.
Strawberry Jam, Summer Rain & the Music in the Streets | Day 2
I woke up at 6:30 feeling genuinely rested — a small miracle after the journey to get here. My sister was already off to the airport to collect a second car with Chris. Two cars now. There’s comfort in that, even if a small part of me is quietly disappointed we won’t all be piled in together. Something about sharing a car on a road trip feels like the actual trip.
The weather had shifted overnight. The golden rays of yesterday had given way to rain. I didn’t mind, though; I love rainy days. They have a way of inviting you to slow down and reset, as if the water is washing everything clean. Stavanger in the drizzle felt exactly right.
At breakfast with Karen, I had strawberry jam that I'm still thinking about. There's a jar of Olaug's jam waiting for me in Lygra, and for some reason, the thought of it made me emotional. I'm not entirely sure why. Some things just carry more weight than they should.
Karen and I didn’t have to fill the air. We were just comfortable enough with each other to let the quiet be what it was.
As we wandered from store to store beneath the drizzling sky, picking up Norheim t-shirts for our husbands (they’ll either love them or pretend to). I noticed something funny that happens every time I opened my mouth. People here seem to look at me and see a Norwegian—until I speak, and then the American comes tumbling out. It makes me laugh every time.
A music festival filled the city with performers of every age, setting up corners and in squares, ready to play despite the weather. The energy of it — that mix of young and old just showing up to make something — was quietly moving.
We made our way back to the hotel for a siesta before dinner. I’m grateful for the downtime; I needed it more than I let on.
I’ve been feeling emotional today and I can’t quite pin it. Is it the adventure? Jet lag? Homesickness? Or is it grief — the quiet kind I hold onto because letting it shrink feels like letting go of him, and I’m not ready for that. Even though I know my dad is the spirit in the sky now, watching over this whole journey. I know that. I feel it, even here.
The day ended at a small pub with a cold, juicy Norwegian IPA (Frank’s favorite, mine too). We were snug in bed by eight pm while outside; music and laughter spilled through the streets beneath a crescent moon, welcoming the Summer Solstice. I lay there listening to the bass thumping through the walls, wide awake, a little homesick and thinking about Dad. It was one of those moments where two things can be true at once: missing home and quietly glad to be here anyway.
IS I MAGEN — Ice in Your Stomach
A Norwegian expression for calm under pressure — staying grounded in your plan when everything around you is uncertain. Stay calm. Trust the plan. When the moment comes, move.
Father’s Day, Far from Home | Day 3
I didn’t fall asleep until after one in the morning. Woke at eight without an alarm — lucky, because my phone had died overnight. No backup. The road was already waiting.
We drove most of the day. Stopped briefly at a waterfall along the way — just long enough to stand in front of it and let the mist hit my face. I picked a wildflower. I wished we’d had time to hike to the top, and I’m also glad we didn’t. Norway right now is in a deep, unbroken green. A blanket of it, valley to ridge, everywhere you look.
We’re heading to Norheimsund tomorrow to meet someone from Ancestry. We’re going to a place where a piece of us came from.
This trip is going to test me mentally, physically and emotionally. I feel that already, and we’re only on day three.
Dadisms— Lessons He Left
There is value in hard work; take pride in it
Never give up — you can do anything if you just show up
Believe in yourself and keep going, even when there’s no applause
Celebrate our family legacy. This is who we are
I’m crying myself to sleep again. I miss my husband. I miss my kids and dogs. I miss the noise of home — because the nights here are so quiet, and I am not used to silence, not this kind.
But I am here, and I think he’d want me to be here. I think he’d say: rely on what I gave you, and you’ll be fine on your journey.
