It’s her time to go soon.
I see in her bravery and strength, which I always knew was there, but rarely saw in expression. She’s ready and at peace with her approaching death. There’s no drama.
We sit there together, with a glass of wine, watching her favorite TV show… the way we always do, the way she likes it… or at least I think it is how she likes it – that was always so hard to know… what does she really want?
I am sad.
Not so much because my mamma is dying… I too am at peace with that. I know she is content to leave, having lived a full life… yes, she is ready – and so am I.
Not so much because I will no longer have my mamma in my daily life. We already live in different parts of the world, staying connected and visiting each other, but with individual lives. I’ve worked so hard to reach that place.
We’ve come a long way, my mamma and I. We enjoy each other’s company, support each other, and talk about things that truly matter… there is a tangible love.
And yet… I am sad as I sit here with her, in the unknown of her final days or months…
I am sad, because, even though our relationship is delightful, it is so clear to me that we both long to connect, to truly connect deeply with each other… and neither one of us know how.
I’m here with my mamma. I love her. I want to reach out and feel deeply connected, beyond the stories, beyond our history, our individual fears and layers of protection.
I use all my tools, all my spiritual and worldly training's, all my love and compassion… and yes, it’s a beautiful evening together… and yet, I can feel I am not reaching HER.
I am sad. My heart longs to truly know her, while she is still in human form.
Then it hits me… OMG, she never had a chance – and neither did I, none of us do.
We come into this world; innocent, open, loving – and the world is waiting for us. The world is waiting with all its stories, beliefs, rules and traditions – a world mainly based in fear, selfishness and survival of the fittest.
And this world absorbs us, the innocent newcomers.
Depending on what culture, country, and family we’re born into, we’ll receive that specific set of beliefs – it will literally be imprinted into our energetic bodies. We don’t stand a chance as children… it happens to us all. Human choice comes later. (More on this in another blog post.)
Mamma never had a chance.
I know her story of having grown up in a home for troubled young boys, managed by her parents, my grandparents. As a space where everything was about the boys in need, there was little space for young Kerstin, my mother. Having an alcoholic father, whom she adored and feared, didn’t help. Closing down emotionally was the only way she knew to survive. She didn’t have a chance.
I see that my sadness for our lack of connection is based in my own fears – and in judgments. Judgment that she should know better, that I should do better knowing what I know, judgment that things are not as they should be and need to be fixed.
And I let go.
I realize that all I can do is love her, with an open heart and acceptance of all that has been, is and ever will be.
I feel the room lighten up. I witness my mamma perceive the shift and a subtle relaxation settle over her. She can’t open up. She does not know how – it’s ok. But she perceives my love beyond all those beliefs – and her being responds. I love her so.
Later that evening, as morning begins almost 6000 miles away, I call my man and teacher at the time. And I cry, as he holds a loving space.
I cry from the depth of my being. I cry for all of us, for losing our innocence, not standing a chance against the world and it’s domestication. I cry for the mother I never had and for losing the mother I did have. I cry for losing myself and I cry for the joy of finding my authentic self.
I cry until the healing is complete and all that is left is gratitude, love and joy. Peace.
It was a magnificent evening with a glass of wine in front of the TV with my mamma. An evening I felt truly connected with my mamma. An evening I deeply cherished. An evening that transformed me.
A couple of weeks later she passes on. I’m not with her… and another opportunity for deep growth presents itself; facing my choices of guilt or gratitude, self-pity or blessings.
Life is a masterful teacher, should we choose to listen.