Below you can find the last chapter on this blog from the book Thank you, mum. I hope it touches your heart.
(For the Swedish version, scroll down and then select Next post.)
When I'm about to quickly step into the yard, I grab a jacket, any jacket. I can wear all of them; somehow, I've become the smallest one in the family.
I'm the mother of three boys. Boys, who were once babies, fully reliant on me. My babies turned into kids and now all of a sudden, they're teenagers. It's hard to picture them being all grown up. I remember how you used to give me a funny look, Mum, when you'd gone a little loopy and I told you I was fifty years old. I couldn't possibly be fifty! Somehow, you felt like I'd outgrown you.
When I look back at old pictures of my children, I smile with melancholy. But I don't mourn, even if those babies no longer exist, I know that my boys still do. We're all constantly changing shapes, it is only when we change from living to dead that we believe it's over. That life has come to an end, not to a new beginning.
The more I think about it, that we believe that death is the final end, the more absurd I think it is. I'm an engineer, but you don't have to be an engineer to know that energy doesn't disappear. It just changes form. We're all energy. That energy doesn't just go away when we die. It changes form.
Back in the day, people believed the world to be flat; today that's laughable. I believe that in a few generations from now we'll laugh at how people believed that when people die, they're gone forever. By the way, we don't have to wait that long. A lot of cultures already see death as a transformation, a change. Not an end. Like Deepak Chopra so beautifully wrote in his book, Life after Death:
"Death itself was seen as a brief stopping point on an endless soul journey that could turn a peasant into a king and vice versa. [...] Death ended nothing; it opened up limitless adventures."
You're on to new adventures now, Mum. Another journey. You haven't left us. You're with me, with Dad, with my brother, and with Grandma. You're here as well as everywhere. You're free, Mum, on your eternal journey.
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. The price is around 17 euros. If your market shows another price, I suggest you try out another market.
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