The loss of a loved one …
BACKSTORY
I remember it as it was yesterday. The day she was taken away from us and spread her wings to join the castle among the stars. I was at home, soon on my way to work, when the phone rang. It was my brother. He told me I had to hurry and take a cap straight away. From that second I knew something was wrong. I arrived at the hospital with my brother and my dad, where my mom had stayed for a couple of weeks because of her cancer.
My heart was beating fast when we were allowed into the hospital room. She was supposed to have a surgery that day, but something went completely wrong. A nurse led us to the bed my mom was in. I looked up, and there were tubes everywhere, and all kind of machines making noises that made me feel sick. To tell you the truth, I have never been fond of the atmosphere found at hospitals. The smell of death and bleach, and the sight of blood and tubes have always made me want to throw up, and just get out of there. The few times I have visited my mom or other family members within hospital walls I have been close to fainting. But this time I had to get myself together, and walk these halls and breathe slowly. I quickly realised that the only things that kept my mom alive at this moment, were the machines she was connected to. She could not breathe on her own. My gut was telling the truth, and soon we got the news I did not want to say out loud. After a few minutes, a doctor came to us, and he showed us the way to a quiet office. I knew what was coming, and I did not want to hear his words. Or should I say I did not want to hear what I was already thinking? It was time to let her go. My body had already gone into survival mode at this point as many times before. My dad cried, my brother was quiet and was I even there?
Apparently, my mom had been throwing up and got fluid in her lungs, which meant that they could not perform the surgery and she could no longer breathe on her own. We were told that we had to call whoever needed to be there beside us three. We called around, and I still get the chills from the scream my cousin made on that other side of the phone call. It sounded like she had thrown herself on the floor the moment my dad told her what was about to happen. She screamed, cried and was letting out all the pain I was hiding inside. It sounded like someone had just punched her in the stomach with such effect that all the air escaped from her lungs. A sound of pain that will never leave my memory. During the minutes we had in that very quiet room I knew I had to be strong, if not for myself, then for my dad and brother, and especially for my mom on these last hours of her life. After a while, they took my mom up to her room where we could say our goodbyes. In the meantime my aunt, two cousins and granddad had also arrived to say a last farewell.
The doctors disconnected my mom from all the machines, drops and tubes. Was this really happening? I asked myself. It must be a very, very bad dream I thought. Before the others were let into the room, it was just me, my brother and my dad together with my mom. She was awake and I looked into her pretty eyes. We both knew that it was time. She could not speak, but she said a lot with her eyes. We smiled and let each other know that it was going to be okay, she could let go, she could start to breathe again, she could fly home.
After 30 seconds or so she closed her eyes, and the rest of my family came in to let her know we were all there for her. She was asleep, still gasping for air, and her body was fighting. She would not give up without a battle. No, she was stubborn as hell down to the last second. We stayed there, hold her hands, hold the hands of each other, cried, laughed, and shared memories. She was asleep, but awake. Slowly, as the seconds, minutes, hours went by her breathing got harder and harder. To listen to the sound of her body closing down was a living nightmare for me. It is something that will always stay with me. I knew she was not in pain because of the antibiotics the doctors gave her from time to time, but it was a sound of someone hopelessly gasping for air, when all you could do was stand there unable to help, in a situation where normally you would try to do anything to help her breathe again. A few minutes after midnight she took her last breath. She was now gone, and I did not want to let go. I did not want to leave her there all cold and alone. But I knew I had to. It was time to let her be with the angels above.
Back in 2018, I lost my mom to cancer. She was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer back in spring 2015, and even though she was fighting it like a warrior in the end her body gave up. There was nothing we could do to prevent it. Her cancer had grown and been eating her up from the inside. She could not keep anything down, and her whole body was suffocating. Watching the life go out of the person that gave me life has probably been the worst and most painful thing I have had to witness in all of my 29 years on earth. Her song stopped playing, and my world was being painted in only grey colours. My rock through everything was suddenly gone within a heartbeat. Was she really gone? Before I knew it I went into grief — this natural feeling of pain that accompanies loss. At first, I did not want to admit I was grieving. At least not to myself. Some might say I was in some kind of denial, but trust me I wanted to scream, but my body had closed down and could not grasp for air.
THE FOLLOWING MONTHS
After my mom’s passing the first thing I could do, was to put all of my feelings aside to focus on something concrete. I turned to all the practical things that had to be done. I had to have a sense of what was happening, but without giving in to what was filling my whole system, so I turned off my emotions for some time to focus on something that seemed easy and measurable. Papers needed to be signed, and we had to plan the funeral.
In this process, I was very lucky to have had a mom that was strong enough to plan her own wake and funeral. What, I did not know before my mom had left us is that she had been spending time to write down everything we needed to know about her wishes for the funeral, among other things. We had her own recipe for how she wanted to say goodbye, and how she wanted people to remember her. Therefore it was hard, but easy to plan a beautiful service full of light in her honour and spirit. She had written down everything from which hymns she wanted, who should carry the casket, and what should happen after the “ritual” in the church. My mom’s wish was to invite people to have some food, coffee, cake and beverage afterwards. Because my mom was such a welcoming and warm human being it was only natural to invite everyone that attended her funeral inside my childhood home. The whole day was in fact planned by her, and the only thing we had to do was to put it all in motion. Today, I am so thankful for my mom to have written all these things down, so we did not have to think about anything. She had made it very clear how she wanted the day to be, and because of that the day turned out to be very magical and beautiful despite all the pain we all were feeling.
Up to the funeral I had been in this so-called “practical” state of mind, but after that it all turned into a living nightmare — an emotional rollercoaster. At first, I felt I was the master of my own feelings. I was in control. I locked my feelings into a hidden tower that only I had the key to. I was not letting people, or myself, see the darkness that was eating me up. I did not want to feel, I did not want to realise this new reality I now had to face. Before I knew it, all the feelings I did not want to feel came marching, pushing me out of my own control. My body wanted me to deal with everything I had locked away in the back of my head. It wanted me to grief and realise what I had just lost. For months I was in pieces, tearing up while no one was watching. I had a million reasons to quit the show, and just give in. I was scared of myself and what I was feeling. I was, to be honest, a walking ghost, that did not want to socialize with anybody or talk about what was really going on. I did not want to follow the light. Instead I felt the water was throwing me overboard, and I was slowly drowning in my own body. No grieving tools seemed strong enough to keep the pain away, and I did not recognise myself anymore. I was in for some lonely nights, where I was afraid of closing my eyes in fear of having her show up in my dreams. But I also knew I had to face the fact that she had flown away far beyond my reach, even though I did not want to believe it.
GOING THROUGH THE FEELING OF GUILT AND ANGER
My mom passed away on the 6th of January and I turned in my master thesis on the second of January 2018. I had a sense that she had stayed in this unbelievable pain only to see me finish my education. Something, I had a very hard time accepting. Getting your master should be filled with joy and celebration, but the last thing I wanted was to celebrate my own success. No, I was angry. Angry at the world, my studies and most of all angry at myself. I asked myself several times; why did you have to take this stupid education? Why did you have those stupid fights with her? Why were you not there when she needed you the most? This guilt and anger stayed with me for a very long time, even though I knew deep down that it was the grief talking and not my rational self. My mom would not have had it any other way, she was very proud, and She was just waiting a little longer to spread her wings, so she got to see me — her daughter, achieve a very big milestone.
My mom was not afraid of dying but sad about what she was about to miss out. For months, we both knew that she soon had to go and leave us behind. She had tried so many different kinds of chemotherapies and alternative treatments, but the cancer always came back to hunt her. Even though I knew it was almost time, I still believed that at least we would have a few more weeks or months before she had to leave. At the same time, instead of being selfish, I had also came to terms with the fact, that given the circumstances it was time to let her fly, breathe and let her go home to live among the stars. I rather wanted her to leave me while she was still my mom, and a human being with a smile on her face and red cheeks, instead of her turning into something she was not. If she had not died on that day, the chances are that after a short time she would not have been able to eat on her own, but only get food through a tube. That would not have been her. At least now I could still recognise her. She still looked like this unbelievable strong woman who went to work even on the hardest days, who was always there for me, calming me down, and a human that cared for her family, friends, colleagues and students. A true fighter through her whole life, and she did not go without a prizewinning fight. But in the end she was tired, she was done and she was at peace with what had to come. Today I know she was hiding a lot of her pain to spare us, so even though I will always wish for more time, I also know that this was the way she had to go.
WHAT I DID TO HEAL
It is not a secret to anyone that for a long time, two years or so, my head was stuck on a cycle of feeling guilty, anger and regret. I was left with no self-confidence and could not see my purpose anymore. For a long time, I have feared that one day my mom will be deleted from my memory, and I think that is the main reason why I have kept holding on to that darkness within me. Then at least I would still feel the longing of having her next to me in the flesh. I am afraid that I will not be able to remember her dashing smile, her warm comforting voice, her many expressions, her walk and presence — I am afraid that I will forget her loving soul. I, therefore, look at the photo albums a lot, and keep some of her belongings very close to me, so I will always remember her memory and keep her in my heart forever.
As I just mentioned, it has taken me a lot of time to get where I am now, and it has been a battlefield for sure. For a long time, I did not think I could ever find my way back to that sunshine we all live for, but one day I decided to work with my grief and slowly moved forward. Like a poet, I started to write my story again, and figure things out little by little. I had to wake up from this bad dream I was in, where the shadows had overtaken my whole body. I had to break free from my own prison, and thereby find the strength within myself to start living again and not hurt constantly.
MOVING FORWARD
I decided I wanted to fight. If not for me, then at least for my mom and her legacy. I had to make her death count, and I had to make it to the other side of all the sorrow. The first step was to accept the dark place I was in, and then slowly start to let the light in. I did not want to feel like a stranger to myself anymore, I wanted to feel some happiness. And I did not want to be a ghost anymore, no, I wanted to live again.
Before I really started on my own healing process, I took a trip to London in March 2018, just around my mom’s birthday. I went there alone, with no consideration. I needed to get away to breathe for a moment without any interruption. I walked the streets of this magical city, listened to music, to the birds singing in the sky, and went to enjoyed a lot of art and architecture. This trip came at the perfect time, and it made me feel closer to my mom in some ways because London was the last place she and I went on a trip together. I did not see it at the time, but this trip was a turning point for the way I had been dealing with all this grief so far. After my visit to London I was still feeling a lot of pain and darkness burning inside my body, but I slowly started doing things that made me happy, and most importantly, I started to accept the huge hole in my heart, so I could start my journey to heal.
I was not ready to talk with a psychologist — a professional, so what I did instead was to turn to lyrics, music, dairy writing and sharing my story. For me, that was the healing process I needed to survive. Someone was saying the words I needed to hear. I have always been very addicted to the world of music. This world that is created by rhythms, melodies and poetry. Music can have a very strong healing effect on the body and mind if you think about it, so it was only naturally for me that music became my therapist in some abstract way. I listened to music whenever I wanted to feel the pain, cry and hurt. But I also used it on days when I just wanted to feel the slightest of joy, just for a minute. The power of music lies in its capability to always increase the feeling you are already experiencing — or which you want to feel, and I guess that is why I feel so addicted to it as a tool for healing.
Other than that, I started to talk with a few of my closest friends — with the ones that reached out, asked the questions, listened and tried to understand. I started to write more and more in my journal. Sometimes I wrote poems, thoughts or letters to my mom telling her about what I was feeling. Through all this I came to realise that I was not alone, but I still had to do it my way, no matter the advice I was given. The process of healing is done over time. It will never stop, but when you figure out what works best for you, you slowly start to move forward, and you slowly learn how to live with the grief.
WHAT HAVE I LEARNED
What I have learned from my experience of dealing with a loss of a loved one is, that grief takes time, and it is complex. The pain will not leave your body from one day to another, but time will heal. I did not want to believe this at first, but I must admit that there is some truth to this saying. I will say though, that it is important to mention that you cannot put a deadline for your own healing process. You have to give it a time, take it in your own pace and find that something, or someone that will help you start healing.
For me that was music, writing and talking. But it was also trying out something completely different than what I thought I was supposed to do with a master in Performance Design and Danish. Dealing with grief and looking for a job after just being done with University was, to put it frankly, a pain in the ass. Something I could not find the motivation for. Because as you might remember, I was angry with everything that had to do with the time before my mom’s death, so after a year of being in and out of the system and not taking care of myself and my grief, I said yes to a job working with children. A decision that turned out to be important for me moving forward. Children have the ability to give you love and let you smile, which, I have to admit, had a very strong effect on me. I never imagined that working with children would be my own rescue. I turned away from my passions, from my title as a Performance Designer, only to realise that I had to go back to the world of art and culture.
But I only came to this realisation by breathing, feeling and by doing something completely different than the box I thought I had to fit into. I stopped being angry at myself and started to see the meaning of it all again. I had to listen to my body instead of trying to be in control. It is okay to hurt and feel pain, but you also have to rely and trust on the people around you, instead of handling everything yourself. Personally, the people I know have been very caring and understanding, whether they have asked the hard questions, just listened or kept their distance. Having that support system is very crucial for your mind and body to heal.
My own advice is that going through these hard times in life, you need to let people in. Let them see you are hurting and let them be there for you in the process. Take it from someone who tends to want to do anything on her own, but had to realise she could not. You need people that will ask the right questions, and stand up for you no matter what. Trust that they will be there and they will listen, and don’t get mad at the ones that keep their distance. You have to accept that they might be afraid of hurting you, simply for the reason that they do not know how to handle such fragile situation, and therefore they will instead give you the space you need. It is completely okay. For a long time, I did not see a lot of people, and some of my friends might have felt I had forgotten all about them, but the fact is that none of that had ever been personal. I just had to make a choice and only do what I could handle. So, I chose to only see the ones that I felt really close with at that moment, the ones that could see right through it all and who dared to ask the questions. Even though I have been feeling so bad of not being in contact with some people, I had to stay true to myself and only do what I could handle. After a while, and after reflecting upon all of my feelings, I started to let myself out of this cold, dark emotional tower. With time I found the key and a way to live with this huge loss.
Now I can start to live, dream and breathe again. I will say, that what also helped me cope with this extreme loss was the fact that my mom was not afraid of telling me the truth, or at least the most important parts of the truth. I was in some ways prepared.
For a long time, I chose the darkness, but when I started to reflect on my own grieving process I saw that my mom’s passing actually, in some ways, has been a blessing. This might come as a surprise for people, but my mom’s death can be described both the worst thing ever happened to me at such a young age, and the most helpful, since it became a huge turning point for my own existence and perspective in life.
Before her passing I lived by the rules, I tried to fit into those boxes society has a tendency to put us in. I tried to live up to some weird expectations instead of actually living. I did not follow my heart, but my mind. Now I am healing and I am starting to live again. I do not want to live just to be safe, but I want to follow my dreams, passions and discover the world I always felt too far from reach. I mean of course I would rather still have her around, but I cannot get her back. So if I have to have a positive perspective of my mom’s death, it would be that it helped me realise that I was actually not living my life to its full potential.
Even though I have come to peace with my mom’s death, and even though, everything might seem forgotten, I know she will still live in everything I do. I also know that birthdays, traditions, special occasions like Christmas will always be hard no matter how many years go by, but I am trying to live with the grief instead of letting it win, and thereby live my life. I chose to remember the good times instead of letting the darkness turn off the light, and at the same time, I am saying okay on those times where I just have to feel the pain all over again. Because the grief will never go away, but you learn to accept it and how to live with it.
I do miss her even more on those special occasions, where I normally would share the moments with her if she was still among us. My mom will still keep inspiring me and be a part of me. She will live on as my own beautiful ghost, watching over me day and night. She will look down from the clouds above to see me write my own magical story of life. With that in mind there is no doubt, that her death will still torment me, hurt me and make tears run down my cheeks, but that just means that she will stay with me evermore. I have come to learn, that the pain only means that she gave me a life with unconditional love.
So, I hope my story can be helpful if you one day are in a similar situation, maybe with a loss of a loved one. In a situation where you cannot seem to find the light again. In that case, I do assure you that with time, love, trust and patience you will learn to live with the pain and step into the light with your loved ones placed in the middle of your heart. They will never be forgotten but will live among us as long as we tell their stories, tell our own stories and remember the memories shared.