The very last day
Every time summer is hot like this one I’m regularly dreams the same dream.
In this dream is it a warm day in the end of August and you ran before me towards the beach too bathing. It’s a unusually hot summer and you almost can swim now though you only is 3 yeras old.The phlegmatic dog who when its opportune listen to the name Lorry jumps around your feet, full of joy. His best number is to run out to the end of the pier an then take a big jump into the water. That dog likas to swim
He loves you to. There Desire is you can find her dog.
You took your first steps whit a steady grab at his tail. Hes patience whit you is unlimited. You can even takes things out of his favourite food and taste it. That delicateness he usually guards whit his live .He just stand there looking at what you do whit his food.
In the garden I had hanged your clean laundry :all your colourful clothes is blowing in the wind. I still not know that you never need them again.
The little dollhouse your father is building in the garden is nearly finished. Today he shall do the last painting. I know its Sunday today because your father is at home and swims whit us the whole day.I can feel warmness and I can feel love even in my dreams because this moment of my life I gladly dream about again and again. I will make the time standing still this last Sunday in august at a sunny beach where three lucky people and a happy dog goes on enjoying their happiness for ever and ever.
Like all dreams can do even this changed the scene.
The see is windy, the sky is dark.
Thunders rolling throe the mountains and the rain on my body is cold.I know that its later now:
Very much later.
The dog is howling heartbreaking right out in the rain there he runs in circles looking for you.
He tried to stop the rescue team take you away and he is expecting you to be back soon.
His howling eats me from inside but I don’t do anything to stop him!
Against what happened their is no comforts. Not today and not tomorrow. Never.
I can see myself standing as paralysed in a little crowed of people when they drag you up from the water. At once I understood that you was dead. You was just not there anymore. My only clear thinking was about what grief this would cause your farther. You who was his proud and joy.
Since his past 40 when he became a father he saw you like some kind of miracle.
In my dreams the past appear like fragments and suddenly I’m standing at the stairs outside the hospital so absolute frozen in chock that I remember it like I had been turned into salt like Lots wife in the bible.
We drove home as we didn’t could think of any other place to go .
Their I took a black plastic bag and just throw all your clean clothes away. After that I took a big hammer and smashed the beautiful doll house.
I am nearly awake now and try desperately to go back to sleep!
Till the time before…
Then three happily people not even suspect that they were going to lose everything. Then you could not imagination that this is your last day on earth so you could dance and sing and play in the water whiteout one single thing to worry about.
But shadow hide the sun and I se the little white coffin at the chapel. Her we had to say goodbye, me and you. The very last time I kissed you .Your skin felt cold within my summer warm arms and my hands couldn’t not get your face warm again.Your special smell of flowers and wintreapples don’t exist any more. You are so pale and my mind catches a silly questioning:
How can death get this sunburned face that pale?
Now I want to wake up but when the dream comes to the chapel they usually turns out to nightmares and they are difficult to wakeup from.
I walk in the wild thunder night out into the see. That very see which took you. The warm august water in the see seemed comfortable when I just had my body wet through of the is could raining.
-You are not allowed to swim in the thunder! I laughed high at all foolish thing I learnt you.
I start to swim. Right out against open see.The only thing I thinks about just I at that moment is your name: Desire. The very wanted one .
Was ever any other child as wanted as you was?
Someone pushes me a little.
-Wakeup mam: You are crying.
As usually it takes a little while for me to reconnect whit my present live.
Another daughter, this time a grown up looked troubled at me.
-Did you dreamt about Desire she ask softly. She’s not expecting an answer: she knows. She smiles at me and said:
-Happy and I are in the pool. Come and join us and swim with us:
-its such a lovely august sunday!
Happy: The daughter of my son . She really is my pride and joy and she looks very alike you now at the same age. It will be fantastic to be allowed to watch her growing.
As I looked out of my window I had to agree: Its really an unusually beautiful august Sunday:
A day wart remembering.
Cause you don’t stop living even when the worst things happens .Sadness will stay around as long as you live but you v can learn to handle lt. I’m still again allowed to enjoy living and be a happy person even whiteout you my little unforgettably miracle.
To loose a Child
Your birthdays comes and passes but we don’t celebrate them since you are not around anymore.Privies years I used to cry myself thou them in desperately greif. Nowadays I enjoy my happiest memories. That much I own you
Every time I want to I can close my eyes and see your laughing eyes before me. My hands remember every details of your perfect little body and I still can feel your tiny arms around me. My whole body remembers you :the tenderness of your softly skin and these unique smell of yours .Like flowers mixed with jasmine soap and fully grown winter apples.
I mourning you whit a sadness so separatly that it feels close to anger
I don’t just mourning over my little girl. I miss the young women you never was allowed too be.
The happy mother, the mature woman. The old lady sitting in the sun watching her grandchildren playing while se was complain over her bad knee. That old woman the time had not allowed me to meet but she had still remembered me than and had been a part of me.None of that persons was allowed to live.
You took them all with you when you died.
I use to believe that somewhere out there that’s a young man who you was meant to fall in love with. Some other woman gives birth to his children :Those who should have been yours and mine too as a grandmother.
And he does not even know about you.
That you once where.
He may had made you happy?
Just like your father made me.
But somewhere it may be another man out there who should have broken your hart? Well it will just not be. We, your daddy and I are still here and as long as we live a big part of you lives in our memories and in our hearts. I am scared to be the last one of us to go cause when your daddy dies there are no one left for me to remember you together whit. They all are dead now.
I sometimes meet parents who have lost their children and promoted them into angels."Our little angel child" they said with a special kind of voice
It makes me so angry.I understand their desperate need for some comfort but for me I don’t like to fool myself.
Hell no you wanted to be an angel!
You loved and enjoyed live and you lost it in a tragic and unnecessarily accident. Than what was not allowed to happen happened and I do my time of my punishment every single day the rest of my life and I will have to pay on my gilt as long I can breath. MY loss is unbelievably hard but yours was complete.
You loosed the only live you ever had a chance to live If I Had belived in a Gud I never would have forgiven him for thatYour are shore no angel but a little put whith ashes inside my closet. Times goes on and on :Faster and faster or so it seems.Your birthdays comes and passes whit the same pain in my heart cause time did not mend every thing even if we tries to believe it does.
But you get used to that little sting in the heart and learn to livewith it.Every year you get a little more piece of resignation.
We have Christmas parties and the midsummer fiestas. Your sisters and brother whit their children fills the house with life and laughter, love and joy and make us a very happy family.Sometimes the whole house is like a sparkling fiesta. Christmas tree and a lot of present’s .Children and pets are playing everywhere Still I never miss you as much as then.
Du fattas mig
Dina födelsedagar kommer och går men de firas inte längre eftersom du inte finns hos mig mera. Tidigare grät jag mig igenom dem i djupaste förtvivlan. Numera ler jag mig igenom dem med de gladaste minnena av vår tid tillsammans.Det är jag skyldig dig min lilla.
När som helst kan jag sluta ögonen och se dina skrattande ögon framför mig. Mina händer minns varje centimeter av din lilla fulländade kropp. Jag kan ännu känna de knubbiga små armarna kring min hals och hela min varelse förnimmer ännu din doft: Den som känns som en blandning av sommarblomster, yasmintvål och mogna vinteräpplen.
Jag sörjer dig med en ursinnig sorg som tangerar vreden:
En vrede så stark att den skrämmer mig i bland. Jag sörjer ju inte bara mitt barn.
Jag saknar den unga flickan, den vuxna kvinnan du aldrig fick bli. Den unga mamman, den mogna kvinnan. Den gamla gumman som tiden inte skulle ha tillåtit mig att få möta. Hon som skulle ha suttit i solen för att lindra sin ledvärk medan hon skojat med barnbarnen. Ingen av de här individerna fick leva.
Du tog dem alla med dig när du dog!
Jag tänker mig att någonstans därute i livet finns det en ung man som du skulle ha älskat. En annan kvinna föder hans barn. De som skulle varit dina och därmed mina barnbarn. Och han vet inte ens om att du har funnits. Han kanske skulle gjort dig lycklig?
Lika lycklig som din pappa gör mig?
Men någonstans finns säkert också mannen som skulle svikit dig genom att trampa på din kärlek? Någonstans därute finns kanske någon som skulle ha gjort dig väldigt illa?
Nu blir det inte så.
Vi ,din pappa o jag, finns fortfarande kvar och så länge en av oss två lever så är du inte helt och hållet död: Du är levande i vårt minne. Jag fasar för att bli den sista kvar för när din pappa dör så finns det igen jag kan minnas dig tillsammans med. De är alla borta i dag.
Jag möter ibland föräldrar som förlorat sina barn och upphöjt dem till änglar. Vårt Änglabarn säger de med vördnadsfull stämma. Det gör mig ursinnig. Jag känner med i deras desperat behov av tröst men jag avskyr självbedrägeri.
"Du valde att bli en ängel" kommenterade någon sitt barns död.
I helvete DU valde att bli någon ängel!
Du älskade varje dag av livet och miste det i en tragisk och onödig olycka. Det hände som absolut inte får hända och jag betalar av på mitt straff och min skuld varenda vaken minut! Vår förlust känns stor men din var total! Du miste det enda liv som du någonsin kommer att få.
Om jag hade trott på en Gud så hade jag aldrig kunnat förlåta honom detta. Du är ingen ängel däruppe bland skyarna utan en urna med aska i min garderob.
Tiden försvinner i allt snabbare takt, månader och år avlöser varandra med allt kortare intervaller. Eller det verkar så. Dina födelsedagar kommer och går med samma värk i bröstet för tiden läker inte alla sår även om det är en trösterik tanke. Man lär sig bara att leva med den bultande smärtan, klumpen i halsen, saknaden och en stilla, med åren tilltagande resignation.
Vid juletider och runt midsommarstången:
Familjefester runt födelsedagar,namngivningskalas eller bröllop. Dina syskon och deras vänner och barn fyller huset med värme, kärlek, skratt och gemenskap.
Ändå fattas du mig aldrig så mycket som just då!