Erik Jon Gundersen

Erik was my best friend from the time he moved to Barnstead and in my heart, will be forever.
We would get to our homes from school and each ride miles to our stores to buy as much junk food as whatever dollars or quarters we had or ‘found’ - we’d ride as hard as we could to get home in time for “General Hospital” - for me it was 3 miles straight uphill which I could do in 23 minutes at best.
We’d call each other, compare our loot - Id often get a big package or Oreos - With one dollar or two - usually a box of snack treats or cookies was the best bargain.
Then we’d just sit on our couches in different homes and watch General Hospital together. Every single day.
Eating cookies. Talking during commercials. He had the best giggle. Conspiratorial giggle.
As we got home from school around 2, and GH was on at 3 - this was a no nonsense operation.
When we lived across the country from each other we’d gossip about our coworkers and say ‘wouldn’t it be great if there were picture phones so you could see her? Or this guy???(he’d say there names - I knew all his coworkers by name) - we have picture phones Erik.
I miss you and there are so many funny things only you would understand.

And when I get stuck in Excel - I still want to call you and ask you how to do stuff - first zero allowed on zip codes - whatever-
and just say ‘We’re going home! We’re going home!’ and watch you dissolve in cascades of laughter.
I will always love you.

Erik was born in Massachusetts to Barton and Lucy (nee Warren) Gundersen. He was their second son, 16 months younger than his brother Bart and five years older than his brother Kurt.

He was always an intuitive soul. He could get close to anyone and make them feel special but he could be a porcupine who could hurt you too. As a kid he didn't know what he was doing.

I tutored him in math, algebra and geometry. And no one was more surprised than I was when he become an accountant and made a real success of it. I am proud to say I tutored him some in his early career.

Erik had fine taste and aspired to a good life. Yet nothing compensated Erik for the death of his mother for whom he always felt a deep loss and much sorrow.

He used to call me whenever he was in trouble or angry. I am sure I was one of many he confided in. Still it was always good to hear his voice and to share a bit of his life.

I miss you Erik. Love, Denise