To my mother, a hero in my story.

A year ago my mother was dying.
My mother, my stepfather still had hope.
But I was getting ready to say my goodbye, to enjoy the little time we had left.

This time last year was hard.
For the entire family.

Most nights I spent sleepless, so I could watch over mother during night. Daytime I knew she would be around others that could help.

I haven’t met my mother in a couple of months, so I can’t say what it would be like meeting her again, but what I do know is that she was the only one I had after father died. I rarely talked to my friends at this point, almost never left mother‘s side.

I remember that the day we got the call from the hospital we decided to go into town. I met a friend of mine and she knew how tired and upset I was. She told me this:
“Totoro will come and save you”
We get home and I went to sleep. Mother woke me up later that evening and told me they called.

Mother had been sick for 30 years.
One year can’t make up for that but…

The one thing I miss the most when it comes to my father it’s to be able to pick up the phone and call him.
I can still call my mother. I can tell if she’s happy, excited, tired or worried.

One year can’t make up for what we’ve lost, but one year is a lot better than the few weeks she had left.
That we had left.

June the 25th last year my mother got a new liver from a donator in Norway.
Mother was dying and her only child was watching her only parent die.

I can’t explain how much this opportunity means for anyone of us.
Sure I still have problems and feelings that I haven’t dealt with, but that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful.

I can never thank God enough for giving mother a chance.
Mother can live the life she wants and deserves.

Thank you mom, for never giving up.
I remember how you said:
“You have lost your father, I won’t let you lose me too”.
I might be angry and sad with you, but you are my mother.
Thank you mom.
Thank you for being a hero.

Thank you God for giving us a chance.
Thank you for giving mom a chance.
Thank you for the sacrifices, the love, the hope and the faith.
Thank you.
Amen.

The pic is from my instagram, taken right before mother had to leave for the hospital.

So how’s my mother?

Everyone always asks me how my mother is doing.
I never get the question how I am doing.

I never got to talk to a doctor about mother’s disease or the transplant.
I never got to talk about my feelings or ask my questions.
Mother never left my mind and I was worried sick about her, but as soon as she got worried about me I got hell for it.
I saved my mother’s life repeatedly and I never got as much as a “Thank you” for it.
I have been told, by my mother herself, that I have no clue about her being sick, while I lost myself trying to take care of here and making sure I always could be there for when she needed me.
I thought after mom got better, that she would show that she was my mother, that she would take care of me like I needed.
I thought mother and I could work on our relationship after she got better, but turns out she had other plans.

I can’t stop wondering who died because she got to live?
I can’t stop wondering why just she got the transplant?
I can’t stop wondering who didn’t get a new organ because of her?
Was it a kid? Or someone destined for greatness?

Ask me how I am doing.
People didn’t spend a thought asking if I needed to talk. Or if I needed someone to support me during this. I had to stand by the side and take so much shit. I was and still am alone with my feelings about this.
Because no one cared to ask me.

My life changed too. So why don’t people ask me how I’m doing? So why don’t I get to talk about it? My life changed too!

Why didn’t I get help? I needed it too. Is it because I’m her child? Why? Why am I so different? Why am I less important?
So who is going to be there for me? No one. No one has and I doubt that anyone will.

I took care of my mother. I lost myself in the process. I worried myself sick.
But as soon as she worried about me I got told how much I was in the way. How I ruined things for her. That I took so much from her. Sometimes she even told me this herself and sometimes form people who were supposed to help me.

I lost my father.
I saw my mother dying.
Where the fuck is my hug?
I have seen my mother sick for 18 years.
I took care of  my own mother.
Where the fuck is my thank you?
I took less than what I needed.
I got sick for her sake.
I didn’t care about going to the doctor when I felt bad myself, I was too busy looking after her.

All the time spent on the hospital. Mother in a coma, completely unaware of what’s going on.
How dare she say I don’t know?
All the time spent next to her. Making sure she was okay, not knowing what pain I was in.
How dare she say I don’t understand.
All the time spent alone, worrying. I did all I could, I saved her life.
How dare YOU talking down on me being a bad person and a bad daughter?
I did more than what was I was supposed to do, why because she is my mother.
I put my life on hold, for her sake.
I didn’t complain when they left for the doctor without me, even though I needed to follow.
I didn’t say how I felt, because it would worry her, take her time and energy.

So really how’s my mother?

Life.

Life is hard, we all know it, we have all seen it.
It’s all up to us and how we play our cards, not really optimal, but.

It’s time for me to change my life, to reach my goals. I just have no idea how.
School? Makes me meet people maybe I find a band.
Training? Could help me loose weight.
But what kind of school, which school? What kind of training?

I wrote something yesterday, and it means a lot to me, trying to feel like you are alive and free instead of feeling like you are stuck in a cage and dying.

I’d really like to share my work, but I am too scared too.
They mean so much to me and if they are lost, I don’t know what I’d do.
My writing is my life, they explain everything I have been trough.

18 years. I am 18 and my mother have been sick my entire life, six months ago she was actually dying, but as time was on it’s last we got the call. They had a matching liver.
And today she is recovering.

6 years, I have known him for six years. Trough my private hell, he’s been there. I really do love him, but we need our space, and we can’t keep this up anymore. We still talk, we are still friends, but this is so hard I just want to break down and cry.

Music is my life, all I want to do is to be in a band. To play drums and write songs. Find people who listens to our music and get helped by it. Inspired by it. Saved by it.