Posted in Loss, Mom

Happy Birthday in Heaven

I cried a lot this week Mom. I wish I could write a post celebrating you and telling you how much I miss you, but today I just can’t coax a cheerier self out of me. The whole week has been a struggle leading up to our birthdays, a time that was always special for us. You always said that I should have hurried up making my appearance into the world, because we could have celebrated on the same day instead of being one day apart. Well I think we celebrated together anyways and we just made it last a little longer. Although we celebrated many years apart from each other, and today this fact breaks my heart and I wish I could change it.

I woke up with hypertension stage 1 today and this has become rare for me, but was I surprised! No, not really and I knew today was not going to be ok. As I sit here remembering you, I struggle to put the words to paper that fill my heart. The small task of selecting a picture for this post brought tears and drove the pain a little deeper. I decided on this one because you are out and away from the nursing home you hated so much. You wear regular clothing and you are smiling big. I wish I could have seen this smile in person, but I was already gone by the time this picture came about.

The nursing home provided the care you needed and you knew it, but it took you away from your home and I hated the decision that had to be made, placing you there as soon as I arrived in Germany. It was awful and I was backed into a corner with no choice. I will never forget. There wasn’t a day I didn’t struggle with it and I still do. I know you couldn’t have survived as long you did without it, but it doesn’t make it easier, especially when I still hear you say that you had no reason to go on living if you had to be in there. It seems like it was an impossible decision for me to make, and both outcomes would have weighed heavy on me. I couldn’t win. How would I have felt if you died because I didn’t do everything in my power for you? How could I have done that? Didn’t you do the same for me as I was little and couldn’t care for myself? You cared for me and did everything in your power. And no, you didn’t place me in a home, but you could handle me and pick me up, something I couldn’t do for you as you couldn’t walk anymore. Would it have been enough and outweighed the point that I had to go against your wishes? I don’t know and I did what had to be done. Still I hated it and always wished it could have been different. Today and always, being an empath, I still carry the many hardships and sorrows of your life and don’t know how to not feel bad and deeply saddened about them.

Nearly ten months have past since heaven got a new angel and I can’t tell you enough how much you are missed. The waves of grief come and go, sometimes better, sometimes worse, and today feels as if I lost you all over again. I know you know and I have seen you around more as dragonflies have returned and surround me all the time. This week has been hard and I even created a diversion, birthday week, trying to keep my spirits up.

Having our birthdays so close together with you gone now, has taken on a painful meaning. I don’t know right now how I will ever look forward to another birthday, feeling this pain again and again. It’s just not the same and it never will be again. It has turned into a time of pain, sorrow and such immense heartache, it takes my breath away. I remember crying and crying, every day, for months after you passed. Eventually it got a little better and I could smile at the memory of you. Today I am right back to those early days and I guess it’s normal and the loss is still raw. Some would say that things will get better in time but I know it won’t. It never did with Dad and it never did with Nikki. Perhaps I feel too deeply and can’t get beyond it.

Mom, I love you and I am sorry for our lost time. All the years that we spent without each other, it seems impossible to me now and I don’t know how I ever managed to leave. I was so young, trying to live my own life, be strong and independent just like you were. I am sorry for leaving you behind, feeling lost, alone and lonely all these years. I am sorry I was a long distance daughter, your blood, only family member and closest contact thousands of miles away. I struggled all my life trying to win your acceptance as a daughter and to gain your love. “You and your feelings” you used to say, unable to step over your bitter feelings towards me for leaving you behind. I never realized you felt this way until years later. In the end spending 10 month with you, you finally accepted me and your wall lowered. It’s what I always wanted, right? Well I can tell you that in the end, losing you, hurt more than I could have ever imagined. I can’t say it would have been easier if you stayed mad at me, if you continued to reject and fight me. My love for you never wavered and was unconditional throughout. I just wanted to be your daughter and hoped to make you proud.

I am sorry I could not take you out of the nursing home and bring you home. I am sorry I wasn’t there during your final hours to hold your hand and take away the fear. And I am sorry I am still so far away, unable to visit you and Dad or bring flowers to your final resting place. I am still not able to take care of your house that you left behind and which is now mine. I am working on it, but today I don’t even know if I can keep it in the long run. I struggle with that as well. It was your everything, but the memory of it and the pain of all the lonely hours spent there reside within it’s walls. It was there where your tears fell, being alone, without Dad, without me and it is hard to bare. Time will tell if I can live with the memory and smile some day or if it will only bring sadness and the constant memory be too difficult.

Mom, I love you with all my heart. Happy birthday in heaven. Say hi to Dad for me.

Posted in Death, Loss, Mom

The Waves of Grief

Dear Mom,

I’ve been thinking so much about you lately. It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone for over 6 months. The first three month were the hardest as I cried every day and tears became a normal part of my life. It was just the way it was, normal to start my day with tears, end the day with tears, and fight my way through the rest of the day fighting back the tears.

Slowly things got a little better and I learned to live with this new pain of losing you. A pain that would be with me for the rest of my life. The gaps between the tears got wider, and some days I even managed to not cry at all, to the point of feeling somewhat normal, and having adapted to you not being here anymore. That was until recently and a new wave has rushed over me and visiting me more and more frequent. I miss you so much as my thoughts and heart keeps wandering to you. I’ve been creating many homemade goods lately, and this was always something we could connect about. It was something that made you proud of me as well as left you astonished a time or too as I exceeded your expectations and imagination. Our picture is in the space I create and you continue to be with me all the way.

I find myself drawn, drawn to a home that was your home for so many years. I ventured out into the world, lived my life, accomplished great things and success, and now I’m tired and this life no longer fits. I continue to strive for less, a quaint life that entails much less, but also so much more. I’ve been out into the world and today I see it with new eyes. There is a hunger, a wanderlust to see more but differently. I miss visiting you at the last place I can visit you, your final resting place with Dad.

In a way I am glad you don’t have to experience what is going on in the world right now. It would be so scary and I would worry so much for your well being. I am glad you are not locked into a nursing home that I couldn’t visit no matter how close I was to you. That would be awful to not being able to hug you, to spend time with you, and to see you. Many are in those situations right now and my heart goes out to everyone during this tough time.

Take good care of yourself and stay safe.

Posted in Friendship, Life, Loss

Conditional loss and others

The last couple of weeks have been emotionally and physically tiring. I feel the drain, and have talked about it in previous posts. I’m not complaining, my breathing is fine 😉, and I’m just plugging away. I’m just being observant to what’s going on, so I can take care of myself, the thoughts I’m having and the feelings I’m feeling. And then of course there is mercury retrograde again which explains it, doesn’t it?

My time is occupied with serious family matters, friendships and trying to get something going as far as “youniqua” the business I’m trying to build is concerned. All my creative energy has been put into this project. I don’t have to think much and it’s calming and soothing to me. But I should start to earn an income again, better yet I need to, and it’s been two years. Two years of which I spent 13 months in Germany, making Mom and later myself the priority for healing. I’m lucky, I was able to do so, as I feel I might not be here if I had to indulge in the stress and all the other hectic that contributed to my own chronic illness.

In between, I have tore the entire house upside down to eliminate potential allergies Ive struggled with. I’ve cleaned and donated much to the needy and chronically ill. I have to do another round and start all over to get rid of more. I’ve been more active, changed my diet for a healthier lifestyle and have lost 8 lbs so far. People have come and gone in my life and today I struggle a little with loss in general.

It’s been a lot of loss over the past year. I lost Mom, and it’s natural that some days just catch up with me and remind me. It was around this time two years ago everything started going downhill as I was confronted with having to admit her into a nursing home. Despite all odds we became closer then ever, and it’s hard to believe that she has been gone for over 5 months. Shortly after that there was the loss of my aunt who passed as well, and the pain cycle repeated all over. I lost my girlfriend of many years, even decades, although the friendship was over a long time ago. It was amazing how little we had in common left. Actually I couldn’t name a thing now other that we played ping pong together. It just never became that apparent, living that far away from each other and seldom seeing each other. I lost someone special due to love and not being able to answer that call. I still struggle with it and miss that connection more than I can say. Others have distanced because apparently there was nothing material to be gained. I get it all, but felt used and if no use. I know many of our encounters, simply run their course. We enter each other’s life for a reason, to help and support, lend a shoulder to lean on, or a helping hand. Sometimes we receive and sometimes we give. I even understand that we outgrow people as our journey changes and our path becomes different, or is it our priorities that change and why it feels so painful? Maybe it’s because I never feel that is me doing the leaving. To no longer be that priority, to feel discarded and replaced? I don’t know, but regardless what loss it is we experience, I wish for a break for awhile. No more loss and friendship that celebrate the true meaning of friendship, valuing each other for our humanly assets not the material ones.

Thank you for letting me speak my mind. I’m ok, just didn’t want to hold on to that energy.

Don’t miss tomorrow segment of “Created by storms” as another shoutout is due to another special friend.

Posted in Death, Loss

Grief

Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.

~Jamie Anderson

Posted in Death, Life, Loss

Being gentle with myself

It’s hard to believe that three months have gone since Mom’s has left this world. For those of us left behind, it’s been a time of pain and heartbreak. A time of sorrow and loss, a time to adjust and perhaps get used to the truth of never hugging her in the physical again.

It’s been a time of raw feelings but also healing. A time of coming to terms that some questions will never be answered. I have learned a lot in these three months, having experienced death as an adult. It was so much different compared to losing Dad at the age of ten. I was simply too young to comprehend it fully at that time and work through the patterns of grief and loss.

Today I know that I am not the same anymore. I can’t say that I have changed in a negative way, but this pain that has cracked me wide open, has also allowed more light to enter my soul. Going through this experience has ignited my flame even higher and stronger, despite the pain nearly diminishing it several times. More than ever do I know that it is a process, and more than ever do I take care of myself by given it the time to go through those steps. Pain and darkness often lead to enlightenment and brighter days. And because of it I ride the waves of my emotions by staying on top of them. For the most part….

Here is what I would tell you from my own experiences, and this is for anyone who is trying to cope and heal.

It’s ok if you thought you were over it but it hits you all over again.

It’s ok to fall apart even after you thought you had it under control.

You are not weak. Healing is messy. And there is no timeline for healing.

Be gentle with yourself.

Posted in Death, Loss, Mom

Missing you today and always

December 25th, 2018 is when I said goodbye to you, holding back the tears while rushing out of your room. We had spent the last 10 months together, and I felt positive that I had given you hope and something to hold on to. Health wise you did better then you had in a long time and things were looking up. You had your purpose back and the promise of me coming back to take you back home. Home into your own four walls, your beloved house.

December 25th, 2018 would be the last time I’d see you alive. Maybe it is the holidays without you, maybe it is the anniversary of such day, but today hurts just a little more and I miss you a lot. I don’t even know why I torture myself with thoughts of whether I would have stayed longer had I known? But the thoughts automatically appear and I can’t help it. Would I have hugged you a little harder, perhaps longer? Would I have given in to the feeling of holding back the tears, and instead freely just broke down in front of you, the strong woman you have always been your life. Would the love for showing you how much you meant won over the fear of you seeing me as a weak individual, telling me to get it together?

What does it matter? I know there are questions that will never see the answers. You are no longer here to set the record straight and I will forever wish to see again. Once more and once more and yet once more again. You are missed and I love you so much.

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Loss

The lessons of The Valley of loss

Yesterday was the church service for my aunt who recently passed away. It’s hard to believe that I just saw her last Saturday, and although she wasn’t well then, in reality she had been sick and bed ridden for years. Nobody saw that this would be the end. She was suppose to be released from the hospital on Monday, but that day turned out completely different. I even sent a message that day hoping that the transport and everything went well. Tuesday I got a response that she had fallen asleep forever.

Sitting in church and although different, much was so familiar and alike it was with Mom. Here I was again and everything resurfaced. Both, Mom and my aunt were close to the same age, both with the exact same illness. It was almost eerie how similar everything was as the same trauma unfolded itself all over in another person. It was almost as if I was given a change to be here for her while I didn’t make it in time for Mom before she passed. It was as if I was given this scenario, to experience it from that angle and to know that I would have equally felt as helpless being here or not. Perhaps it was to let go of that guilt, of those haunting feelings.

Just a short time ago, I stood here myself, putting Mom to rest. Still affected, being a part of the family, but with a little more distance, I stood at the sidelines while we were singing some of the same songs from Moms service. Everything was so strangely familiar, as I felt every emotion, every moment on a complete new and more intense level. I saw everyone, immediate and extended family sit together afterwards for coffee, talking about everything and anything, almost as if nothing had happened. It was almost as if life immediately resumed and the sadness ended with the church service. Just the immediate family, her husband (my uncle) and her sons still carried a grief about themselves that begged to get this over with and to return to silence in the hope to find some peace and relief. I found it challenging for myself and I was glad that I had opted out of meeting after the funeral. It was obvious how hard it was to just carry on, to be good company, to pick up with the motto “life goes on,” and move forward so quickly. I could see my uncle and cousins in The Valley of loss, pushing grief and pain aside for a better time to deal with, because now, on front of everyone wasn’t the time to do so. They performed and this was something that had to be done, something they had to get through. I didn’t want to do that to myself as I had opted out of the get together afterwards.

The Valley of loss… how often had I been there myself, during times of pain and loss. Walking trough that valley, running from it, afraid of that horrible place of pain. A place that’s dark and gray, a place full of despair where no one can hold your hand and help you trough. This is a place you walk through alone, naked and vulnerable, and only after running from it several times, did I finally find the courage to stay and embrace this place with all it’s pain. I wasn’t hiding any longer, I no longer turned my face not wanting to see, I was no longer afraid and I just faced it without resistance, no longer fighting back, allowing it to break me open, and wide open… it did. Maybe fear and all that was still a part of me, but none of that mattered anymore and there was something that was greater than that fear.

In return it allowed me to feel at an elevated level, to see even more the delicate balance that is life. I saw the value of the “Two wolves”, and understood the meaning that everything positive and negative has a place in our life. That we wouldn’t experience joy if we never experienced sorrow. That we never enjoy the warmth’s of the sun on our face of we hadn’t felt the cold of the darkness. I learned about opposites and that one is not better then the other, that each carries positives, we just need to see. I learned more in-depth about my life’s lessons I thought I had long learned already. I found them integrated at yet another level and with even more powerful meaning. I have no idea if more levels of the same lessons will follow, if I need to experience anew that it is pain that molds us into who we were meant to be, but one thing is for certain. I no longer have to run from The Valley of loss and I have learned to embrace it in all its complexity, heartache and pain. I can’t say that I’d look forward to see it again, but I know I will, eventually and that’s not the point. I know that I can and that I can take away the lessons that devastating landscape has to offer. And with that….yes….life does and will go on.

Posted in Life, Loss

Grief

I learned that grief is the longing for love. I learned that grief is the longing for security. I learned that grief is the longing for trust. I learned that grief is the longing for existence.

I learned that grief is the path of love. I learned that grief is the guidance for darkness trough light.

I learned that grief doesn’t leave. We only learn to journey through it and open our hearts to love and joy.

I learned that grief is a book with answers to living our truth and purpose here on earth.

I learned that grief is the map of self awareness and self knowing.

I learned that grief protects us from being seen, heard, felt and loved for who we truly are.

I learned that grief calls on us to heal, awaken and reclaim our feminine wisdom and power in the presence of love, joy, gratitude and compassion here on earth.

I learned that grief reminds us of how we destroy ourselves when we let ourselves be the victim of grief.

Grief has been the journey of reclaiming my truth while honoring and loving myself and others.

Grief is the doorway to the light.

~Sarah Moussa

Art: Sophie Wilkins

Posted in Death, Family, Loss

The last of my Clan

Baby me with my parents

I felt like an orphan several times since Mom has passed. There is something so lonely about not having your parents anymore. It’s bad enough having to grow up with only one, but having none is a whole different story.

It’s even frightening to some extend, even if you have led independent life’s for many years just like me. If you have been on your own, responsible and dependable without ever asking for help. I guess there was always some sort of safety cushion you never even fully realized, although you never planned on failing and asking for help. You just weren’t alone and somehow you knew without any further thought about it.

Now, being without parents, being an only child and a childless one on top, I realize that I am the last of our family, the last of our clan. It all ends with me.

Posted in Life, Loss, Memories

Moms favorite hangout

I ended up at Colmberg Castle the other day. It was one of Moms favorite places and where she celebrated her 80th birthday. It was last October when just her and I got to sneak away one more time, to this place she adored so much. She even managed to stand, holding on to the castle walls while leaning over the edge. I was so happy to witness her joy when she was watching the deer down below the walls. She loved this place and in this moment anything was possible.

Something extraordinary just happened and Mom is here right now. It’s evening time and I am sitting in her kitchen under the light, writing this post. She must approve of it and it feels as if she is smiling, remembering this beautiful moment spent together. The light above me just got noticeably brighter and not just by a little bit. I mean by a lot and this is the first time for the entire month that I have been here that this has happened. I don’t even know how I continue to write under the tears. But then of course I do and I don’t want her to go. I want her to continue to approve. I want her to stay.