Thank you, Kerstin, for you are just like mum

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.)

"How did you know what to pick?"

We were out walking Sissi, my amazing cocker spaniel, when I asked you how you went about choosing a career. I was in the middle of college applications and didn't know what to do. Your answer was quick.

            "There wasn't a lot to pick from. As a woman, you either became a stay-at-home mum, teacher, or nurse."

            You chose to be a teacher, although you still worked at the hospital every once in a while. You kept the patients who were dying company. So typical of you to help, even though the task was hard on you.

            When you were brought into the hospital for the last time, Kerstin became our contact person. During the COVID-19 restrictions, she became more and more important to us. She became our way of staying in touch with you. On your birthday, Dad, my brother and your good friends, Jan and Angela left presents for you. The staff had to bring them in. They later told us how happy you were about these gifts, how you ran your fingers through them, and smelled those beautiful flowers. Kerstin liked you and I'm sure you liked her. She told us you were so sweet, and also a little mischievous. She wondered if you'd always been that way. You sure had.           

            Kerstin did not only care for you, but she cared for us as well. She knew the hardships both within and outside the hospital, and how it might have been even harder for us. I remember Dad saying during this time:

"Every day, I'm growing a year older."

Kerstin understood all that. Not only did she say how you were doing, or how lovely and cute she thought you were. But she asked us how we were doing, she told us about herself, what was happening, and she was always asking about Dad. Praising all the things he'd done right. Taking care of you at home, and also calling the ambulance that took you into the hospital for the last time.

            Every time we talked to Kerstin, it was as if a weight was lifted off our shoulders. Even when she said that there was no hope of recovery, she delivered that information in a most sensitive way.

            Thanks, Kerstin, department 244 at the Sahlgrenska Hospital in Gothenburg. If I was to give you the very best compliment I could think of, it would be this. If my mum had become a nurse instead of a teacher, she would have been as wonderful a nurse as you.

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This was a chapter from the book Thank you, mum. A book for those who miss someone.

To read all chapters, type Thank you Mum in the search field on this blog

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.