No er det tysdag 16. august 2016. Dagane sidan laurdag har vore uverkelege, og livet og verda kjem aldri til å kome heilt i orden igjen. Ikkje for meg, kona mi og foreldra mine, ikkje for svigerinna mi, og ikkje for dei fire små nevøane mine.
Den snille, gode bror min, Gard Abrahamsen Tuur-Eggesbø, døydde uventa natt til laurdag, nokre dagar før han ville fylt 43 år.
Eg er så glad for at vi byrja å klemme kvarandre, og for at vi begge visste kor glade vi var i kvarandre. Snille, gode, nydelege, rettvise, hjartevarme, omtenksame, samvitsfulle lisjebroren min, det var ikkje slik det skulle gå.
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A rough translation, added on 8 October 2016: My brother
It is now Tuesday 16 August 2016. The days since Saturday have been unreal, and life and the world will never completely settle again. Not for me, my wife or my parents, not for my sister-in-law, and not for my four young nephews.
My good, kind brother, Gard Abrahamsen Tuur-Eggesbø, died unexpectedly on Saturday morning, a few days before his 43rd birthday.
I am so glad that we started hugging each other, and that both of us knew how much we loved each other. My kind, good, marvellous, just, big-hearted, caring, considerate little brother, this is not how it was supposed to be.
Mellom turrfisken og veden 