The magic of dreams

Such a bittersweet feeling waking up and remembering that I dreamt about my mum.

Christmas as we've never known it

When the gingerbread house is falling apart.
And the plastic Christmas tree gets assembled with the middle piece at the bottom.
And the Christmas tree lights all get tangled up.
And you're looking for the recipe for the Christmas ham, but there is none because that's what your mum used to do.

That's when you know the entire world is telling you that it's all different now. And no matter what you do Christmas won't be Christmas this year. So it doesn't really matter what you do. We can pretend all we want. It just isn't Christmas when one of the most important ingredients is missing: the whole family together.

I keep asking myself, why isn't she coming home soon?

One month

One month ago, at this time, I was messaging a dear friend of mine. I was telling him that we'd made it through another day. I remember feeling slightly hopeful. Earlier that morning it felt like we were running out of time. In the evening, as we were saying good night she looked ever so slightly stronger. I thought to myself "wow, we're getting a few more days." We didn't.

Tomorrow it's one month since I last looked into her eyes. One month. I want time to stop. I don't want to get further away from her.

My mum's choice

Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my own familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

My mum chose this poem to have read at her funeral. I am trying very hard to honour those words because I know it's what she wanted. It would have pained her so much to know that she would miss it all. But I think what she as most afraid of was how we would deal. That's who she was. Always thinking about us first. And I know that she was worried. And scared. She was the heart of the family. And now we have to do it on our own. 

I just really wish I could talk to her.  

The power of a hug

I just re-read a blog post from the 22nd of October. I wrote how I went to see my parents and that my mum and I stood and held each other for a long time. I wrote "she's here, I have to remind myself of that. I can hug her whenever I want to, and that means everything."

It did mean everything. My mum's last words to me were "hug you", in Swedish obviously. And I did. I hugged her long and hard.

I'd do anything for another hug from her.

3 weeks

An hour and a half phone conversation with a colleague turned good friend, about everything from work and funerals to golf and knitting.

Makes the three week mark go by slightly easier.

Where are you?

I miss my mum.

Yesterday I kept thinking I needed to check with her which dress to wear since I couldn't make up my mind. But then I realised it was for her funeral I was getting ready and that I never can ask her for help in choosing what to wear again.

It's the little things...

I miss you so much.

Thoughts

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher
But I flew too high

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming
I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say

No!

Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry, don’t you cry no more… no more

Kansas, along with supernatural are keeping me company this afternoon.