Thank goodness it's only the body that dies

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.)

One million cells in our bodies die every second. Every second. Most cells just live on for a few months, some live on for years, like the ones in our liver. The cells in our brains live for as long as we do – unless we, like you, Mum, fall ill with a disease that kills our brain cells.

            Having part of us die is a necessity. If the cells don't die, they'll grow uncontrollably, and we'll develop cancer. The dead cells leave room for new ones. The exciting part is that the new cells don’t start from scratch. They know what the previous cells knew. The cells die but their memory lives on in the new cells. We die, but life goes on.

            The same way a raindrop evaporates. We can't see it anymore, not until it forms a cloud and rains down on us. The rain falls into lakes and rivers, rivers joining the ocean.

Did the raindrop die?

No, it changed shape.

Did you die, Mum?

No, you changed your shape.

I still miss your old shape. That beautiful, huggable, singing shape I'd come to love so dearly. Someday, I'll recognize your new shape. Someday, I'll be able to reach you again. Until then, I allow myself to mourn, to miss you until the loss is numbed. I will act like the monk; Björn Natthiko Lindeblad; I will trust my sorrow. I will trust my crying and remember that all sorrow needs, is to be felt. 

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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 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.