In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Do Not Disturb.”

This past Sunday my father would have been 95 years old. I now think about him with warm feelings, but it’s been a long way to come to that.

I have mentioned my relation to him in a post called “My Long Journey to Overcome Fear”.

He was born in 1920 in Copenhagen into a Baptist family. His father was struggling in periods to get a job. He was a bricklayer’s assistant and did all the hard jobs in the buildings carrying the heavy bricks up on a ladder. Late in his life he was working in a factory making scouring powder and got so-called “stone lungs”. He died far too young in 1949. My father’s mother got ill during a critical point during the war. The Germans had occupied Denmark in April 1940 and in July 1944 a general strike broke out as…