Today, I reread some old posts as I was moving them over from Ishtar News. One of them was Trusting the impossible. Here is an excerpt:

My mother and I, Cyprus 1983

…Now, that little voice I was talking about two posts ago has been proclaiming lately that her time is up and that from now on, everything we do for her is useless. …However, there is a different song singing in my heart. It doesn’t say anything about the what, the when or the why, but it tells me to where to put my trust. It tells me to believe in the impossible, and to rejoice, even though times are hard. And I will.

There was something about that ending there that put words to what I have been feeling lately. On the day after my dad called me to say that my mother had left, I could not describe what I felt. I battled my maker for 24 hours, but when I woke up the next morning, I was at peace. Just like in the post above, there was that “different song” singing in my heart again, just like it had the night before she left. It said nothing about the what, the when or the why, but it told me where to put my trust. It was an outreached hand and I could not do anything but take hold of it.

As the children of my mother’s Kids Group were coming over to present their condolences, I told my housemate Anette that it would be nice to give them a time of true quality, just like my mother always did.

And so we had brought out the fruit and the milk, and sat down to do something practical, just like my mother would have done.

They all made their own necklaces, and they were so proud!

There was only thing lacking was my mom playing the piano and so Anette and I took them for a ride in the yard, which they all loved!

Ramatu, my mother’s very special friend

It was a precious time, and when the day ended, I had received the answer my soul was looking for, and I could fast no more. I have been resting in that peace ever since.

I don’t know what my plans are for the future, but I am taking it day by day. The funeral is on Tuesday the 11th March, but tomorrow, I will go to Smögen with my sister, who came back from Asia on Friday night and who has still not seen my mother since she left. I am sure it will be just as difficult the second time as it was the first, but pain is part of loving and I would not want it any other way.