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.