Facing what's to come, kind of

My mum and I have had a projekt all spring. We planted seeds in Match. And now we have beautiful plants all over the verandah. I love just sitting looking at them. They have become my babies. It's as if we're desperate to watch something living grow. It's peaceful and almost healing. To see that there is still life that can grow in this world.

I've been sitting among those plants today reading. I was looking through our book cases for something to read and my eyes stopped on a book my Kristian Gidlund. He was a Swedish journalist who was diagnosed with stomach cancer in the spring of 2011. He then started a blog to write about his internal war. Last summer his blog was published in a book. Just a short while later he passed away. He lived just over two years after he was diagnosed. I haven't had the strength or the courage to read his book. My mum bought it late last summer. And for a long time it was just lying in our living room. No one daring to open it. No one wanting to know what was inside. My mum has read it. Don't know if anyone else in my family has.

I started reading it today. Because if it's anytime that I will read it, it's when my parents aren't here. And if there's any place I should read it, it's here. In this house. On this verandah. Where I am at my safest. At a time and place where it's okay to fall apart.

I think this is something I need to do.