A leaf has left the Tree of Life

Mamma past away last night. 

All kinds of memories come pouring down together with the tears. 
During her nearly 79 years she has been many things: the skinny tomboy in Berlevag, a small and windy fishing village in Northern Norway, the refugee kid in Sweden, the young woman alone in Oslo, the wife and mother in Tanzania, the classy lady standing on her own feet back in Norway, the outgoing bohemian after finding a new identity, and the old lady that we gradually lost to Alzheimer.  

By the way, my Mum hated to grow old. Her friends were mostly younger than her, but she loved people in general and in all ages. 

Mum was tolerant and warm, with a sharp tongue that sometime spoke hurtful words. She was also frank and direct in a positive way. 

She drowned her traumas, sorrows and depressions in red wine and got more problems. Springtime was the most painful time for her. When  the sun melted the snow and flowers started to show, her world was dark and she preferred to hide. Her ghosts from childhood and the past never left her alone, and she could not bear the thought of getting help and heal. It's too late for that, she said. 

She was social, loved to flirt, a dancing queen until the day the sweeping broom at the nursing home refused to shake and twist. Mamma  loved music, art and literature. She was a master in scrabble and hated to loose, but most of the time she was winning with a charming girly attitude. 

She had humor and we had ridiculous giggles and shared many good  laughs, but I never got comfortable with her sarcasm. 

Every Christmas she told us that she didn't want any presents. Aww...What a drama and sadness around the never formulated wish-list. And then she opened her Christmas gift with shining eyes.  She blushed and laughed: I always say that I don't want anything, but now it's clear to me that I love presents, I'm the biggest child of us all. And we laughed too, happy to see her happy and knowing it would be same crazy procedures next year. 

She was jealous and suspicious, but never controlling. Her intuition was extremely accurate.

Bighearted. She cared  for outsiders, the marginalized and loners.

I have never seen deeper love between daughter and mother than she had for her mum. She loved her unconditionally and tenderly wholehearted. A love so strong that it never faded, shifted or changed. 

She was saddened by that I didn't have the same closeness and love towards  her that she had to her mother.  I could not be that kind of daughter to her. I often became quiet when I was with her.

Mamma broke my heart many times - and a few times she also mended it. I broke her heart too when I was 16 and ran away for 8 months to take better care of myself. 

My mum never dyed her hair, nearly ever used makeup and not a penny used on beauty creams. Drinking water was her remedy and she was nearly without a wrinkle until old age. She was seductive, oozed sensuality and femininity. 

She had 3 jobs to support us 3 kids after she got separated from my Dad. She had guts, was a talented salesperson and amazingly talented to negotiate. She went for win-win agreements and usually succeeded. 

Her mother Alma gave her wisdom that she often mentioned . "When my life was unbearable, my mother told me to be patient and strong. You see, life will get worse. You think you have reached the bottom, but you are still not there. Endure and wait. Life will turn when the only way is up." They both had an intuitive way of knowing when life would turn for the better after hardship. 

My mother's gifts to me are my values. She never tolerated discrimination, she made me colorblind, she believed in justice and equality, in truthfulness and loyalty. 

Mamma never became a good swimmer since she always stretched her neck longer than a swan to avoid to get her hair wet. But she became a good sport woman and was proud of it. 

All these significant and insignificant memories and many more will probably change by the years.  Somehow I instinctively know that the strongest memory of her in the end of the day, in the end of this life will be her small, soft and warm hand on my belly that miraculously healed my tummy ache over and over again when I was a child.  The lioness that came the few times I asked for help, fearless fighting for my rights, never once blaming me for getting myself into trouble, just helping me sorting things out with wisdom and love.

I will also remember the bond that was between us when she was sick and helpless. How no words were needed to give her comfort and how to make her feel safe without fear for whatever hardship that comes before it becomes better. Rest in peace dearest mother. I love you. 

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Thank you for all the support you have given me the days I've been sitting beside my mother's bed. It means a lot to me.