Robert Edward Norberg
August 15, 1959 - April 16, 2026
With heavy hearts and profound gratitude, we announce the passing of Robert Edward Norberg, affectionately known as Ed or Pappy, who departed this life on April 16, 2026, at the age of 66. Born on August 15, 1959, in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Robert peacefully took his leave surrounded by the love and warmth of his cherished family.
Robert was the beloved son of the late Robert and Joan Norberg, who predeceased him and surely welcomed him with open arms in the afterlife. He is survived by his devoted wife, Bonnie Norberg. Their bond, forged in love and laughter, began on June 9, 1984, in Tulsa. Over the course of 42 years of marriage and 44 years together, they built a life that was as rich in stubbornness as it was in joy, raising two remarkable children, April and William (Cole) Norberg.
A graduate of Will Rogers High School in 1977, Robert spent his life devoted to his craft as an electrician, though he was known to be a jack of all trades. Whether at the lake, in his backyard, or at the helm of a fishing rod, Robert was happiest outdoors, always finding solace in nature's embrace. An inveterate tinkerer, his garage—a testament to his inventive spirit—was often a cacophony of creativity, clutter, and the clanging of tools.
Robert's character was as unique as it was endearing. He lived life with a fierce independence, a legendary stubbornness, and a penchant for debate, often transforming the mundane into high-stakes conversations that only he could master. His language, a symphony of gravelly English mixed with redneck-ese, was understood only by those who truly knew him—and perhaps, a few local squirrels. Pappy's wit and wisdom were wrapped in a cloud of cigarette smoke and delivered with a sincerity that endeared him to many. His love for his family was boundless, especially for his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, with whom he shared many cherished moments. He leaves behind a legacy of love in his children, April and Cole, his sisters, Marcy Horak and Darla Wells, his nieces, Amber Wells and Alicia Halfmoon, his nephew, David Wells, and his eight grandchildren: Storme Norberg, Dakota Crowels, Destiny Crowels, Eternity Hughes, Steven Crowels, Kendon Haskell, and Dontrell Murphy, as well as six great-grandchildren: Delilah, Ava, Dayson, Wohali, Naiomi, and Sunny Mai Crowels. His extended family, too numerous to name, will forever remember his warmth and humor.
Robert's life was a testament to love wrapped in madness, a reflection of his belief in living with unyielding passion. As he journeys to the big garage in the sky, we find comfort in the thought that Heaven has a smoking section just for him, where he can continue to tinker and converse with the angels.
In honor of Robert's wishes, a private ceremony will be held. The family extends their heartfelt thanks to all who loved Pappy as deeply as they did. Your support during this difficult time is a testament to the impact he had on everyone fortunate enough to know him.
May the echoes of his laughter and the warmth of his spirit be forever cherished. Rest in peace, dear Pappy. You were truly one of a kind.
Rest in Peace Dad - By April Norberg
A tribute for my father Robert Edward Norberg
The world is a whole lot quieter—and the air a hell of a lot cleaner—now that my dad and others Pappy Robert Edward Norberg, our resident “old fart” and the human smoke machine, has officially checked out.
Dad Edd Pappy didn’t just pass away; he likely spent hours arguing with the Reaper about whether the scythe was properly sharpened before insisting on driving the boat across the Styx himself. Dad Edd was a man of legendary stubbornness, possessing a skull so thick it could’ve been used as ballistic shielding, and a vocabulary that defied the laws of linguistics. To hear Edd speak was to listen to a beautiful, gravelly Boomhauer symphony of 40% English, 60% “Redneck-ese,” and a series of grunts and “reckons” that only he and the local squirrels truly understood.
He was a master tinkerer who never left things alone and never met a perfectly functional appliance he couldn’t “screw with” with a welder, three zip ties, and a piece of scrap metal and wood he’d been saving since the 80s presidential administration. A fierce competitor who would turned a simple game of cards into a high-stakes gladiator match, Pappy lived to argue with me and others—not because he was mean, but because he was convinced that being “wrong” was a lifestyle choice he simply wasn’t interested in making. He lived in a permanent localized fog bank of tobacco smoke, filtering life through a cigarette filter and sheer willpower. But beneath that crusty, hard-headed, “I-told-you-so” exterior was a truly great man—an interesting member of the family who would give you what you asked for like shirt you needed to borrow, provided you didn’t mind him spending the next four hours explaining exactly why you were wearing it wrong As he gave you shit about it.
He leaves behind a family that is already missing the glorious, smoky noise of a old man who was truly one of a kind. He’s gone to the big hoarders garage in the sky now, and God help the angels if their harps need “tinkering” with. Or they try to withhold cigarettes from him because like Jelly Roll said . . .
“I hope that Heaven has a smoking section
I hope that Heaven has a smoking section
When it’s said and done and we’re all gone
I hope they got a place that we can blow
I hope that Heaven has a smoking section”
. . . and if there isn’t Pappy will throw a revolt and make one.
He also in life proved Nietzsche quote right “There is always Maddness in love and some Love in Maddness”