John Melvin Angvik and Arn Sebastian Angvik

John Melvin Angvik

October 20, 1960 - February 7, 2024

It is with profound sadness that we share the passing of John Melvin Angvik, a man whose presence filled every room with warmth, humor, and unforgettable stories. He is survived by his children, Arn and Sarah (Chris), and by his beloved grandsons, John and Nolan Yarbrough.

John had a gift for making people feel seen. He never arrived without a small treasure in hand or a tale that left everyone laughing. His unmatched sense of humor, his love for long walks, his joy in thrifting, his passion for all things horror, and his devotion to reading and collecting comic books made him wonderfully one of a kind.

We find comfort in knowing that pieces of him live on in his grandsons—two boys who sit cross legged on the floor, just as he once did, flipping through comic books and counting down the days until the next Marvel movie. His legacy is alive in their curiosity, their imagination, and their joy.

We love you, Dad.

Arn Sebastian Angvik

July 31, 1986 - March 18, 2026

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved brother, Arn Sebastian Angvik. He leaves behind his sisters Leah, Sarah, and Sunniva; his niece Alyssa and nephews John and Nolan; as well as his two aunts and an uncle.

Arn loved life to the fullest. Bitten early by the travel bug, he embraced every opportunity to explore new places and never hesitated to hop on a plane to visit friends. He reached out often, cared deeply, and had a habit of spoiling the people he loved.

He was passionate about golf, and we know he’s got the best set of clubs in heaven. We imagine him convincing his dad to watch Miami games while being forced in return to sit through horror movies. Knowing the two of them are together again—along with his beloved dog—brings us comfort. We’re certain Fischer greeted him first with endless licks.

To a loved and cherished brother, son, uncle, and friend to many: we love you. We miss you in a way words could never describe.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.