Rules: Some memories you remember even if they are not significant at all
Exception: When you decide to make them significant they will be remembered because of that.
One summer my friend Elizabeth was visiting us in Sweden. One day we went with our daughters to the nearby lake for a swim. She doesn't really swim well (although she teaches other people to swim..) but the lake was calm and the water was just the right temperature. We lay there side by side floating in the water. Some cold streams would from time to time revive us but I can still remember that blissful moment, just lying there and being carried on the water, watching the sky and feeling the water and listening to Elizabeth.
It was just one of the times we went swimming, and one of the few times I went swimming with her that vry warm summer but it is this moment I remember. I also remember thinking - this is something I want to remember.
And so I do.
lördag 8 augusti 2009
lördag 6 juni 2009
How grown-up are you?
Rule: First when your parents die do you truly become a grown-up
Exception: When your parents never did grew up themselves
I was blessed with long-living grannies. My paternal grandfather died before I was born and my maternal grandfather died after a long illness in his 70-ies. But my grannies just kept on living. My paternal grandmother hade her birthdate in the 19th century! When she died at the age of 91 and I went to the funeral it was the first time I met most of my father's relatives. I had met some before, like my aunts and some cousins, but the rest were new to me.
This was so new and overwhelming for me - here was this really large family and half of them loooked so familiar. The same nose especially! But also the same colours. It was incredible, like being adopted and coming to meet your birth-family.
I never stopped to ask myself - why do I not know my father's family?
The asnwer is now obvious, because my father chose not to let me get to know them, and neither did my mother.
And recently my maternal granny died. She had been doing great for so many years but the last two, after an emergency operation, had been hell for her. She was now 93 and starving to death, wanting to die but her heart kept on beating. She had been taking care of my mother until she herself became ill. And now, she who had cared for everyone, stayed at a nursing home for senile people. One old witch there made her life hell by beating her when noone was looking, sneaking into her room as well. My uncles tried to stop this and some people had to leave but my aunt and my mum didn't see clearly and where annoyed at their brothers for interfering.
These hours spent at her deathbed were so precious too me. I sat there and held her hand and when anxiety had her in its grip, I could calm her down and say that she was not alone.
When she died my mother became a child bereaved.
When my paternal grandmother died - my father also became a child bereaved.
They never grew up. So, I had to.
Sometimes I meet people with really caring parents. But more often I meet people in similar circumstances. My challenge is to bea real parent to my children, to allow them to grow up and take on responsibility - to step back when necessary but also to be there when necessary.
Keeping close!
Exception: When your parents never did grew up themselves
I was blessed with long-living grannies. My paternal grandfather died before I was born and my maternal grandfather died after a long illness in his 70-ies. But my grannies just kept on living. My paternal grandmother hade her birthdate in the 19th century! When she died at the age of 91 and I went to the funeral it was the first time I met most of my father's relatives. I had met some before, like my aunts and some cousins, but the rest were new to me.
This was so new and overwhelming for me - here was this really large family and half of them loooked so familiar. The same nose especially! But also the same colours. It was incredible, like being adopted and coming to meet your birth-family.
I never stopped to ask myself - why do I not know my father's family?
The asnwer is now obvious, because my father chose not to let me get to know them, and neither did my mother.
And recently my maternal granny died. She had been doing great for so many years but the last two, after an emergency operation, had been hell for her. She was now 93 and starving to death, wanting to die but her heart kept on beating. She had been taking care of my mother until she herself became ill. And now, she who had cared for everyone, stayed at a nursing home for senile people. One old witch there made her life hell by beating her when noone was looking, sneaking into her room as well. My uncles tried to stop this and some people had to leave but my aunt and my mum didn't see clearly and where annoyed at their brothers for interfering.
These hours spent at her deathbed were so precious too me. I sat there and held her hand and when anxiety had her in its grip, I could calm her down and say that she was not alone.
When she died my mother became a child bereaved.
When my paternal grandmother died - my father also became a child bereaved.
They never grew up. So, I had to.
Sometimes I meet people with really caring parents. But more often I meet people in similar circumstances. My challenge is to bea real parent to my children, to allow them to grow up and take on responsibility - to step back when necessary but also to be there when necessary.
Keeping close!
söndag 31 maj 2009
A pity with such a beautiful day!
Rule: A beautiful day makes you forget everything else
Exception: When you dig a bit deeper it actually makes you think about eternity
Ther is such a beautiful poem in Swedish about how the other side does not have anything to boast about, neither a little grey bird singing, nor a birch in white bloom. And yet, during the most beautiful summer day that you can imagine, it can happen that we long to pass over to the other side.
Understand me correctly, I am not suicidal. But I am aware of the other side, extra aware because my father passed that border in April. And today, with the birds singing, the flowers blooming, the trees all green and gently moving, the lake like a mirror - part of my thoughts are there.
Exception: When you dig a bit deeper it actually makes you think about eternity
Ther is such a beautiful poem in Swedish about how the other side does not have anything to boast about, neither a little grey bird singing, nor a birch in white bloom. And yet, during the most beautiful summer day that you can imagine, it can happen that we long to pass over to the other side.
Understand me correctly, I am not suicidal. But I am aware of the other side, extra aware because my father passed that border in April. And today, with the birds singing, the flowers blooming, the trees all green and gently moving, the lake like a mirror - part of my thoughts are there.
måndag 11 maj 2009
Death and how we deal with it
Rule: Death is something we avoid
Exception: In Ireland they knew how to share your sorrows
In Sweden people tend to avoid you when someone in your family dies. Or they first show care but soon they think that you should be over it, start acting normal or so. Definitely not talk about it.
But in Ireland, where everyone went to funerals all the time, where it was part of life, people knew it could take time.
Mourning takes time. And every death is unique.
Exception: In Ireland they knew how to share your sorrows
In Sweden people tend to avoid you when someone in your family dies. Or they first show care but soon they think that you should be over it, start acting normal or so. Definitely not talk about it.
But in Ireland, where everyone went to funerals all the time, where it was part of life, people knew it could take time.
Mourning takes time. And every death is unique.
måndag 6 april 2009
Time is precious
Rule: When you are living, every minute has its own worth
Exception: When you are so busy you forget that you are living here and now
I am often reminded about how fragile life is. A friend dies. A relative dies. I sit and hold my dying granny's little hand. Once I sat and groeved next to the body of my very good friend and a small hair had fallen from her dear head. I took that hair in my hand and held it towards the light and I could hear the words - this is how fragile a man's life is.
So now, when I find that days have passed and I am not sure what happened - I try to take a deep breath and get back to basics. To live. And to see the people around me.
If I feel preassurized by people around me, people who think I should give them more than I have to give, I also put my foot down. My life is also precious. I am accountable for how I spend my days.
Exception: When you are so busy you forget that you are living here and now
I am often reminded about how fragile life is. A friend dies. A relative dies. I sit and hold my dying granny's little hand. Once I sat and groeved next to the body of my very good friend and a small hair had fallen from her dear head. I took that hair in my hand and held it towards the light and I could hear the words - this is how fragile a man's life is.
So now, when I find that days have passed and I am not sure what happened - I try to take a deep breath and get back to basics. To live. And to see the people around me.
If I feel preassurized by people around me, people who think I should give them more than I have to give, I also put my foot down. My life is also precious. I am accountable for how I spend my days.
lördag 21 mars 2009
Small kids - small problems...
Rule: The teenage years in retrospect are terrible
Exception: When you remember that special feeling of being so special!
I just received my third teenager and life did not change as much as I expected. It is clearly a big difference between girls and boys. Girls, from my experience, are unable to tidy up (with some exceptions) and leave dirty and clean clothes mixed on the floor. As well as candy wrappers. Empty cups. books, books, books.
Sometimes I cannot help myself but I "help" her to tidy up. And it has happened that she has come to senses and re-decorated her cabin, and also, during the process, been tidying up. Those days my washing basket is unexpectedly full...
Exception: When you remember that special feeling of being so special!
I just received my third teenager and life did not change as much as I expected. It is clearly a big difference between girls and boys. Girls, from my experience, are unable to tidy up (with some exceptions) and leave dirty and clean clothes mixed on the floor. As well as candy wrappers. Empty cups. books, books, books.
Sometimes I cannot help myself but I "help" her to tidy up. And it has happened that she has come to senses and re-decorated her cabin, and also, during the process, been tidying up. Those days my washing basket is unexpectedly full...
lördag 7 mars 2009
Being perfectly honest
Rule: It is always best to be honest - it pays
Exception: When honesty is not what it seems like
I was watching a television show with my daughter and an American psychologist entered in order to tell about his 100%-honesty-declaration. Among the things he siad (now with his 5th wife in the audience) was that couples should start by telling their beloved about all their sexual encounters. But of course, also admitting to usage of drugs, not liking something etcetera.
The Swedes present looked with him with something of horror in their eyes. They all said that they were quite honest themselves but you cannot really say everything you think about.
And I realised that things you sometimes think, are not always true. If you are annoyed you think some things that later make you wonder about your sanity! And during a quarrell, or a boring conversation...
What is truth? Pilates old question hangs in the air.
Exception: When honesty is not what it seems like
I was watching a television show with my daughter and an American psychologist entered in order to tell about his 100%-honesty-declaration. Among the things he siad (now with his 5th wife in the audience) was that couples should start by telling their beloved about all their sexual encounters. But of course, also admitting to usage of drugs, not liking something etcetera.
The Swedes present looked with him with something of horror in their eyes. They all said that they were quite honest themselves but you cannot really say everything you think about.
And I realised that things you sometimes think, are not always true. If you are annoyed you think some things that later make you wonder about your sanity! And during a quarrell, or a boring conversation...
What is truth? Pilates old question hangs in the air.
onsdag 25 februari 2009
A movie to cry for...
Rule: A good movie makes you cry
Exception: Well, Shrek is of course a good movie as well but not as good as the good-for-crying-during-movies.
I just remebered how I used to cry my eyes out (and making loud noises when trying to hide the fact that I was indeed crying) while watching Lassie with my brothers. they made extremely rude eremarks about that I can tell you! I never dared to watch Bambi with them...
And it didn't get any better when I turned into movies for grown ups, like Vivien Leigh in Waterloo bridge and Gone with the Wind. I still hope that things will turn out allright for her - but that never happens. Her little girl still dies every time in Gone With the Wind and she always choses suicide instead of telling her beloved that she worked as a prostitute during the war in order to survive after his horrible mum left her on her own.
I cry when reading books as well, even when reading them aloud for my children. The Little Princess was a nightmare as was Seven Siblings.
If you give me a good-for-crying-during-movie - I will give you a bucket of my tears - as well as my embarassing company.
Exception: Well, Shrek is of course a good movie as well but not as good as the good-for-crying-during-movies.
I just remebered how I used to cry my eyes out (and making loud noises when trying to hide the fact that I was indeed crying) while watching Lassie with my brothers. they made extremely rude eremarks about that I can tell you! I never dared to watch Bambi with them...
And it didn't get any better when I turned into movies for grown ups, like Vivien Leigh in Waterloo bridge and Gone with the Wind. I still hope that things will turn out allright for her - but that never happens. Her little girl still dies every time in Gone With the Wind and she always choses suicide instead of telling her beloved that she worked as a prostitute during the war in order to survive after his horrible mum left her on her own.
I cry when reading books as well, even when reading them aloud for my children. The Little Princess was a nightmare as was Seven Siblings.
If you give me a good-for-crying-during-movie - I will give you a bucket of my tears - as well as my embarassing company.
måndag 26 januari 2009
Would that I could
Rule: Languages consist of arbitrary utterances
Exception: Alliterations work to produce the same feelings although the words are translated
Sometimes I get så caught up with a languages, some utterances, some expressions, proverbs, puns, rhymes - they make me enjoy the language itself.
Like for example the English phrase: would that I could. That nice ou-sound - what effect does it produce? Definitely a feeling that this comes from deep within, from the inner being and that it expresses doubt, sometimes regret - but never joy, confidence.
Russian has a partly different, laconic, touch when you can say so much with a single word.
I love languages. Life is, regretably, too short to learn them all.
Exception: Alliterations work to produce the same feelings although the words are translated
Sometimes I get så caught up with a languages, some utterances, some expressions, proverbs, puns, rhymes - they make me enjoy the language itself.
Like for example the English phrase: would that I could. That nice ou-sound - what effect does it produce? Definitely a feeling that this comes from deep within, from the inner being and that it expresses doubt, sometimes regret - but never joy, confidence.
Russian has a partly different, laconic, touch when you can say so much with a single word.
I love languages. Life is, regretably, too short to learn them all.
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