Below you can find another chapter from the book Thank you, mum. I hope it touches your heart.
(For the Swedish version, scroll down and then select next post.)
I wasn't
there, but I heard about the time the doctor made a home visit to you when you
lived in the Netherlands. Two doctors arrived because they wanted to talk some
sense into you.
When you and Dad moved to the
Netherlands you were worried you wouldn't find a job. Who were you if you
didn't care for "your children," your students? It didn't take long
before you were a teacher once again. You helped Swedish kids living in The
Netherlands to keep up their native language. You introduced "home
language instruction" in a country, which didn't yet know what that was.
As usual, you worked tirelessly for your students. Working without breaks.
There you stood, leaning on a table
for support because you could barely stand on your own. This was your third
case of pneumonia within a short period of time, and the doctors had to make
you see the gravity of the situation. They said that you'd die if you didn't
slow down and take care of yourself.
"No worries, I'll be back on my
feet in no time." That's how you grew up. You were taught that complaining
was bad. You were scared that doctors would look at you and say, "There's
nothing wrong with you, it's all in your head." You'd rather die than be
accused of being a hypochondriac.
When my godson was to be baptized,
we wrote well-wishes. If I remember correctly, I wished him love and health. I
knew by then how limiting life can be when your health is failing you. Not from
my own experience, but from your experience, Mum. I also remember feeling that
our health was out of our control. That's why I wished him health, the rest we
can manage ourselves, I thought.
Today, I know that we can definitely
affect our health. We can't escape death, but we can try to live as wholesome a
life as possible. Most of us know how to take good care of ourselves. You knew
it as well, although you skipped over the most important part. The pillar that
makes the foundation. You never understood that you were worth taking care of, Mum.
You never understood that your health deserved to be taken seriously. You never
understood how valuable you were.
We don't learn through theory, no
matter how informative it is. We learn from experience, and I learned a whole
lot from yours, Mum. Thank you, Mum, for teaching me to value my health. Thanks
also to me as I have learned we're all worthy of care and attention.
Psst, reader. The same goes for you.
You are valuable, you are worth caring for.
Make sure you look after yourself,
respect yourself and give yourself some TLC.
**
Please share this blogpost if you think it can help someone!
This was a chapter from the book Thank you, mum. A book for those who miss someone.
To read the first chapter, go to this post. To get a notification by mail when a new chapter is posted, click here.
If you would like to give the book to someone you think can be soothed by it, or to yourself, you can find it on Amazon on any of the links below, or you can search for it on your Amazon of choice.
Amazon in the Netherlands (if the price of the paperback is higher than about 17 euros, choose another market)
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