Bad day

When you have a break down because your tv channels aren't working and you've been calling the tv company pretty much every evening for three weeks. And you think it's such a ridiculous thing to have a break down about, such stupid third world problems.

But the years just won't stop running. And you've had such a crap day in general.

And you realise that the real reason you're crying is the feeling you manage to suppress and hide almost every day. Because after a bad day, the one thing you want to do is call your mum. And I am so so so angry that mine has been taken away from me. I hate the world every day for doing that to me and my family.

Silence

It's all so quiet. And all I want is to hear her voice. I'd give anything to hear it again.

Soon I won't be able to think "a year ago today she did this." Soon she will have been dead for a year. Dead.

I hate the world for having taken her away from me.

Please. Come home.

Next week it's one year since we were told there was no hope. Sure, we'd been told that since day 1. But on the 16th of September 2014 it became real. The doctor said the dreaded words: "I think it's time to stop all treatments. We've bought all the time we could." After that my mum said the words that broke my heart into a million pieces. "So now all we can do is wait." I will never forget my stupid, philosophical attempt at being positive: "No mum, now all we can do is live."

I do this thing when. I am absolutely obsessed with tv-shows. And I can re-watch some of my favourite shows over and over again. Sometimes in full. Sometimes I fast forward through the boring parts of various episodes. And then I can re-watch one scene several times. I just keep rewinding, and watch it again. To keep that moment alive just for a few seconds longer. I wish I could do that. I try to do that. Sometimes, when I'm lying on my sofa, or walking in the forest, I will re-live those days. Those months. The laughs and the tears, between the 16th of September and the 19th of November. Those two months are so unreal to me. So much happened. But at the same time everything was paused. There are certain moments during those two months that I wish I could re-live again, and again, and again. And it's not just the good parts. I want to have the bad ones too. I want all of it. The pain. The tears. The screams.

Because that would mean that I wouldn't walk around town searching for her face. It would mean that I wasn't desperate to hear her voice. It would mean that she'd be here.

I went to the cemetery today. And I cannot get it through my head that that is the place I go to visit my mum. It's soon been a year. But I just can't get used to it. So instead I beg. I beg for her to come home soon. Because I miss my mum. And my heart is shattered in a million pieces because she's not here. And I don't know how to live my life anymore. I need my mum. And please, please, please. come home soon.

A mess

Some days I feel like I've found my place, that this is a good place to be.
Other days I wonder what the hell I'm doing here.

Every day I wonder how my life could end up like this. How I became the girl with a dead mum.

Pretending

In an effort to pretend nothing has changed I switched on my previous phone and there it was. My last text conversations with my mum. I can hear her voice in my head. I want to wrap those words around me like a warm blanket. Two days ago it would have been her 56th birthday. It was also seven months to the day since she died. Yesterday it was two years since she was given her diagnosis. It's been a weekend of trying to suppress all emotions in an effort to survive. Self defense. But now. When the weekend is over. And the silence is catching up. Everything just hits me. And I don't know where to go. I can't believe that I will never ever ever see her again. Or talk to her. Or hug her. How can that be true?

It's always there

Some days it just hits you. Knocks the wind out of you. And it's happening all over again. You're sitting next to her bed holding her hand. You're telling her it's okay, that we'll be okay. And you watch as she stops breathing. And the world just goes quiet.

And then you realise it's actually been almost seven months. But it will never stop happening. And you curl up into a ball and let it all out. Because the pain and the longing and the frustration is just too much.

Time

Today I have lit candles all around my apartment. They are all burning for you my beloved mum. Six months have passed. And I need all the light in the world to keep me away from the dark.

Six months. Half a year.
Time is such a strange thing. It feels like it all happened yeterday. In a way I hope it always will feel like that. Like it was only yesterday that she was here. But it's been half a year. And time has crawled by at a ridiculously slow pace. Each individual day has felt like forever. But as a whole, the six months went by like a blink of an eye.

I wish you were here. I will never stop wishing that.

It's raining outside

I close my eyes and pretend everything is alright. Only, I can't because it's too painful. I pretend she's here, and that we're laughing and joking and living. But I find myself unable to breathe, and instead I open my eyes. Because it's too painful.

I feel like I have no one to talk to. I don't know who has the energy to listen to me. To hear me out. I want to throw something. I want to shout. I want to fall apart. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop being okay in front of people. I want to do something so they know it's not okay. So they know I am broken and bleeding and falling apart.

I want my life back they way it used to be. I don't know what to do with all this pain.

I feel like people are disappearing. But I think it's me that's pulling away. I don't know how to deal with this, so how can I expect others to stick around for it?

Talk

I hate that I'm starting to feel like I can't talk about my grief to people because it's now almost been five minutes. Not talking to the people close to me about it doesn't give them credit enough, nor help me. But it's just so difficult. So instead I sit on my own and fall apart.

I never knew it was possible to miss someone this much.

Seconds

The sharp pain in your chest when you close to hear your mother's voice in your head and it takes a couple of seconds before you can hear it.

It might just have been seconds. But it was seconds. And I'm scared that it will turn into more seconds until I can't hear you anymore.

I want to make more memories with you. We weren't done. And that is so unfair.

Pissed off

And there I stood. Not quite sure what to feel. I always thought I'd feel sad. But I just felt disappointed. And angry. So angry.

The worst part is that they still haven't been able to say it to me clearly. "We can't offer you more work." Instead they hide behind big words and excuses and pretend they're still looking into it. When it's obvious between the lines that the chances are zero for that to happen.

Hypocrisy. And extremely poor leadership.

Typical TCK

This is not how I thought my life would be. And I can't help but wonder. Should I go back?

I feel like I don't belong here. Maybe I should listen to that voice?

Confused...

I'm also right on time. Coming up on two years. I can feel the TCK gene pulling. I shouldn't be too surprised.

Help

I want to scream. I want to rip myself a part. I want to tear out my hair. I feel like a million pieces. and I wish I looked the part.

I want to tell everyone to fuck off. Because no one understands. I want to tell everyone to shut the hell up. Because their petty lives don't matter. And I know that's not fair. But I don't give a fuck. I want everyone to leave me alone.

But I'd also want just one person, just one, to look at me and say "I know you're a mess. I know the smiles and the laughter is just pretend. I know."

I don't know how to deal with all of this. Mamma, I need you. Why aren't you here to help me through this?

Open wounds bleed easily

The shock when you open the local newspaper and see a photo of yourself and your dead mum.
Not a great feeling....

Another month

And just like that another month as passed and once again I lie in bed going through every moment of that last day I had with my mum. How, exactly four months ago, almost to the minute, she said her last words to me.

A colleague said to me the other day: "you look good. Can you feel life returning?" I didn't know what to say. It will never "return". It has changed for forever. Return means going back to how it was. It never will.

Break

I'm thinking of taking a break from people. Especially people in social media. People are pissing me off. Either too happy. Or acting as if the world is about to end because of some ridiculous thing.

For everyone's sake, I think I should take a break from it all. Just wish I also could take a break from life. Escape. Just for a while.

Take me away from this place

Sometimes I think I'd be better off if I just packed my bags. Bought a plane ticket. And got the hell out if here. Anywhere.

Chaos

I had a melt down at work today. I just had enough of people behaving like children (despite being substantially older than me). and just being random idiots. And it all just became too much. No one is giving me any information concerning if my job will be extended or not. They just keep being vague and non-commitall. I wish they'd just tell me. And they act as if the whole world is going under because of a birthday party for one of the councillors that got out to the local media and had to be decreased in size. I just sat in my office and stared at my computer screen and felt the tears coming. The one person who would understand the craziness of work is not here. I can't tell her.

Because she is dead. The one person who I want to tell. Who I tell everything to.

Told everything to.

This whole talking in past tense thing. I don't like it. Actually, I hate it.

There's chaos everywhere. But most of all inside of me. Chaos. And emptiness. It's like I told a colleague today. Everything would be so much easier to handle if I wasn't also carrying around this giant dark hole inside of me. It's like everything has a new dimension added to it which makes it all so much harder.

I'm fed up. And angry. I am so freakin angry.

Happy birthday dad

I've made it through the day. Just about. Growing up it'd be my brother or me that wasn't around for my dad's birthday. Or my mum's for that matter. But they were always together. One more battle has been fought today. Many more will come. Small and large. Yesterday many battles were fought too. First fika outside, without my mum. Premiere at the golf club, without my mum. Getting the garden spring ready, without my mum. And then today. My dad's birthday, without my mum. It's been an incredibly difficult day where I've thought of her almost constantly. I've walked around at work with tears in my eyes almost all day. And I've cried my heart out at home. I miss her so so much. Those words don't make my feelings justice. Every time I think the words "she is dead" I get the wind knocked out of me yet again. It's still such a shock to hear those words in my head. She's not dead. She'll be home soon.

Oh I wish that was true..... Because life like this isn't much fun.

I'm dreading my own birthday in four short weeks. Can we just skip it?

The first birthday

So this weekend we're celebrating the first birthday of someone in the family since mum died. It's my dad's birthday on Monday and we're celebrating today. I have no idea if it will be difficult or not. All I know is that I miss her, and my dad does too.

One of many firsts to come this year...

On a different note I've taken up running again. Started a training program on Runkeeper. So this morning at 9.15 I went for a 5km run. I am so proud of myself. It's good to have something to focus on. And with a couple of goals ahead. Doing the race for life on 1st of May in my home town. A run where all proceeds go to cancer research. Last year my brother and I ran, and my parents walked. It was such a huge victory for my mum to walk the 5km since she hadn't been doing well the weeks leading up to it. She was so proud of herself, and we of her. So I will be running for my mum. And everyone else stuck in a similar nightmare. And then in September it's the big goal. A 10km run in Stockholm. I've been toying the idea of setting up a page where people can sponsor me and all money go to cancer research as well... We'll see. Maybe as I get closer to the date I will do that. For now. I run. And it feels good.

And tomorrow the plan is to bring out the golf clubs from hibernation. Which also makes me excited.

So while it's painful. And most days are a struggle. There's also good things. Things to focus on. Things that make me smile. That's really all you can ask for.

Spring is coming

March. It's March. The month when we start to hope for spring and it's not just a distant thing anymore, it's actually in the air. It's the month of my dad's birthday. It's the month when you start getting the garden ready for the new season. It's the month of firsts. First coffee outside in the sunshine up against wall somewhere. First bike ride of the year. First run outside without risking to fall on ice. Hopefully the first golf session. All of the firsts that come every year over and over again. 

And this year it's the first spring without her. And it hurts like crazy. We've reached the time when people start to forget. Or at least stop asking. But while it hurt in the beginning, it's nothing compared to now. Now when it starts to sink in. She is gone. For ever. I will never again see my mum. I don't know what I believe, but at this stage to be honest I don't really care. I will not see her here, and that's all I can think about. I keep looking at her photo and it's like being punched in the stomach. I miss her so much. It's a constant pain. 

I would relive the last painful, slow days of my mum's life if it meant that I could see her again. I would do anything to see her again. I didn't know pain like this existed before.

Memorial

I went to the cemetery today to visit my mum. I used to find cemeteries scary and intimidating. Today as I walked around there it struck me how beautiful it is. And how respectful. There are so many lives gathered at a cemetery. Every life with its own story. Every life having left unique impressions on the world they left behind. It almost felt like walking around a memorial rather than a cemetery. A massive memorial to all of those who have lived their lifes in this crazy world, and then left it behind. Everyone having lived on their own terms, and left it in their own way. It also put things into perspective. So many have come before us, and so many will come after us. I don't know, it's hard to explain. But it felt so peaceful and beautiful to walk around there. I've never looked at it that way. Maybe it's me that's catching on slowly.

Wishes

Sometimes I wish I had the patience to write  book. There's so much inside of me that I wish I could put down on paper. So many stories. But I wouldn't even know where to begin.

19th, again

I hate playing the "dead mum card". But sometimes, after a day like today, I kind of wish I did it more often. What a day.....

3 months.

Take care of yourself

People keep saying that it's important to take care of yourself. To be kind to yourself. Put yourself first.

I wish I knew what that meant. What should I do different? It feels like it's not working right now. But maybe it shouldn't be working? Isn't that what mourning is all about?

I'm so tired. Physically. And mentally.

Family is everything, don't ever forget that

This weekend my brother came home, and I spent the weekend at my dad's. Hanging out with my guys. It's weird to think that now, it's just us. Three. Not four. And as we were discussing ways for my dad to remember to water the plants I found myself thinking "mum, I can't wait for you to get back so I can tell you all about how worried dad is about forgetting to water the plants when you're gone." And then, yet again, it hit me that I can never tell her that.

We had a lovely weekend together. Relaxing. Quiet. Fun. But there's no getting around the fact that she's missing. As we sit and do the normal things. Watch tv. Make dinner. Go to my uncle's for dinner. That's when it hits you. This is how it is now. Always.

It makes me sad.
But oh so grateful for what I have. Me and my boys. Without them I would be nothing.

No words

What do you do when you feel completely empty?
When you're walking along, laughing and talking to friends, but inside you feel dark and alone?
What do you do when you can't put your feelings into words? When you sit and stare at a facebook message for several hours thinking you should write someone to let them know how you are, but you just can't?

It hits me sometimes. When I least expect it. On Sunday evening I heard a song from one of my mum's favourite bands and I just fell apart. Today I walked home from work watching a beautiful sunset and tears were streaming down my face because she won't have another sunset.

I laugh. I talk. I work. I do everything normally. But something is wrong. A piece of me is gone. And I just don't know how to be in this world. Lost. Dark. Lonely. Sad. But those still aren't the right words. Because there are no words. There are literally no words for this. Because the idea of never, ever, ever seeing my mum again. It's just not possible.

There are no words. Just pain. And it's dark. And it's ugly. And do not say it will get easier. Because I will always live with this. And I will punch the next person who says that to me.

Celebrate your victories

Last week at work, after one of the local politicians had, once again, called me by my mother's name I went to my mum's former manager. I just walked into her office, closed the door and said "I need a hug". I told her what this woman had said. I told her that on a good day, I can take being called my mothers name. On a bad day, it would take less than that to push me over the edge. My mum's managers response was amazing. "Lisa, we have a law in Sweden against kicking local politicans out of the city council. If that wasn't the case, I would personally kick her out right now." Then we got talking about my mum, and life, and death. And she asked me something no one has asked me yet, at least not in that way. She asked "what victories have you had so far? If you've had any." I didn't understand what she meant so she explained. What have you done, what obstacle have you gotten around, which was difficult to face. But you did it. Maybe not the obvious ones like the funeral och Christmas. My response, after having thought for a while, I went to London. I went on a trip. And I've been shopping. It's weird. But I guess not so weird. It took me quite a few weeks after my mum's death to buy anything new for myself. The thought of wearing clothes that she's never seen, and never will see, was just too much for me. I never thought that would be an issue. It hadn't even crossed my mind. And going on a trip. Making new travel memories, and not being able to tell my mum. That was huge for me.

Then my mum's manager said that I shouldn't forget to celebrate those moments. Say "look at me mum, I'm okay. I'm living my life, like you wanted to." And she said something which made me laugh and realise how well this person knew my mum. "Lisa, one day you will stand in the middle of the town square, with a bag full of clothes from Flash and that day we will celebrate." Flash was my mum's favourite shop. She couldn't go inside without buying something. I haven't been inside since she died. So yes, one day, when I am strong enough, I will go in there and buy something.

Today however, I'm celebrating another victory. In the first few weeks following my mum's death my dad said that he wanted to write it all down. And by "all" I assume he meant the last few days. At around the same time, when we were planning the funeral and my dad said he was going to try and hold a speech at the wake (which he did, and it was beautiful and strong och amazing), I said that I could never do that. He then looked at me, and said "maybe you should write something to her. You've always been a pen to paper kind of girl." So I wrote her a long letter that went with her into her grave. Along with a photo of her, my brother and me in Italy. But that's when I thought that I would write it all down. Like my dad said he wanted to do. I don't know if he has or not. But I now have finished. 9 pages of 5000 words. The days between her death to the funeral. And the last three weeks of her life. All written down. For us to always remember. Not that I think we will ever forget, I think those days are etched into our memories. But it's good to have it written down. When I told one of my closest friends I was doing this he just went silent and said "I don't think I've told you this, but I find you so incredibly strong in all of this." People keep saying that. I don't feel it. But I guess I am. It's too important not to be. But therefore I am tonight celebrating this victory. Of having re-lived those last weeks, and the weeks that followed.

Fighting

Sometimes I scare myself with how much I want to let myself fall into the darkness.

Your voice

Watching home made videos from your childhood is highly addictive. I could do it all night long. I get to see you. Hear your voice. And your laughter. I am forever grateful for all the times my parents have brought out the video camera. It is painful, tears run down my face. but it is so wonderful. It's my drug. I can sit and watch the same sequence over and over again.

How's it going?

Oh how I hate that question. Do you really want to know? Or are you just being polite?

I am sad. That's how I am. Sad. And angry. And lost.

There's your answer.

Two months

Tomorrow morning it's been two months. It seems like forever ago. And it feels just like yesterday. I keep replaying the last days, and that day, over and over again in my head.

I wonder if I ever will grasp the true meaning of it all. That she is gone.

Who do I text now?

There's so much I want to tell you. The little things. How I've knitted a scarf using my arms instead of knitting needles. That I've signed up for the 10km run you were meant to do in 2013. About the restructuring at work, and how no one really knows what's going on there. And that I made a delicious cake today.

It's so weird that you're not just a text message away. On Friday I picked up my phone as I was preparing to leave work, and I was going to text you asking if you and dad were having Friday pizza as usual. Then I realised that I couldn't.

I am so lost without you.

Night

When you dread the silence and the dreams you will be dreaming so much that you refuse to go to bed. And instead sit and watch the rain through your window.

I've never felt such pain and loneliness before.

Coldplay

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face

In, and then out

Some days it's hard just to be.
The days when you have to remind yourself that all you need to do right now is first to breathe in, and then out. Days like these that's really all I have to focus on. And that's difficult enough.

New year

I keep thinking that 2015 has to be better than 2014. Because that is how you think after having gone through such a difficult year as the previous one. But then I realise that it will never be better than 2014. It might not be full of hospital visits. Three month checks. Chemotherapy. Death. Funeral. Oh how I hope that 2015 will be free of all those things. But I had no idea when we stood here two years ago that 2013 would change my life forever.

2014 has been a long year. So much has happened. But it also went too quickly. Looking back my 27 years of life has gone too quickly. How I wish we could have slowed it all down, so that she could have been here longer. In so many ways it's been such a good year. We grew so close as a family. We fought together. And I am so so proud of all of us. We have so many wonderful memories from this last year as a whole. Now we're just a part. That's what it feels like. We are not whole. We set the table for three people. We do family walks, but there's only three of us. Someone is missing. And she will always be missed.

I can never get a better 2015 than 2014. It may have been the year that I lost my mum, and best friend. But it was a year when she was here. How can anything become better than that? It might have been hell, and the biggest battle we have ever fought. But she was here. And now we're heading into a year where she isn't. And that terrifies me. I'd much rather have stayed in 2014, at least then I was in a year where she also had been.

19th of November, at 7.57 am my mum died. She is dead. I need to repeat that to myself about once every hour of every day. She is dead. But, she didn't lose. People tend to say that this or that person has lost the fight against cancer. My mum never lost. She was a fighter to the very end despite being given no odds what so ever from the beginning. She never gave up on life. She is not a loser.

Happy New year. This became longer than I had planned. Sometimes I have a lot to say. I wish everyone a good 2015. Personally, the battle is far from over. It's going to be a tough year. An empty year.

Mamma, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other one for you.