My father’s death.

When I lived with my father things got out of control and I moved to my grandmother while waiting for my mother to arrive to Piteå from Kosta. My mother and I decided I would move to her because I couldn’t live with my father.

The day before my mother arrived I woke up by my grandmother talking on the phone crying. My father had a stroke and he was at the hospital. My first reaction was that he was going to be fine. But either way we went to the hospital and got to sit in a room. I refused to talk to anyone but my mother, my family tried speaking with me. I went into my father’s room a couple times but everytime I freaked seeing him to being able to talk or to move. When our eyes met I could really feel that he didn’t want me there.

During that night my mother arrived. The next day we moved my stuff into the car before we went back to the hosptial. I tried once again going into his room but once again I freaked out and ran out to the elevatiors looking for my mother. My father’s girlfriend’s daughter ran after me.

Mom and I got ready to leave. We went to our cabin outside Sollefteå. But I can’t remember if we were there a day or two.

The day we were ready to leave my mother stood by the car with a look on her face I never had seen before. I asked her what was going on and she said nothing. So we left.
Later we stopped at a gasstation and I bought a magazine, some candy and a red bull. When I got back out to the car my mother stood leaning against the car with the same look on her face so I asked her again what was going on and she told me “you are going to hate me if I don’t tell you now. Your grandmother called, he didn’t make it”. My world came crashing down and I started crying and screaming all at once. I threw myself in the car and my mother threw herself after me to catch me. Mother held me while I cried.

Later that day I called a few people close to me to tell that my father didn’t make it. I decided with a friend that she would follow me to my father’s funeral. It didn’t take long before she canceled. She had something more fun to do. So me and my childhood friend decided she would follow instead.

Before the funeral we got to see my father in his coffin. I was to scared of the corpse to hug what used to be my father.

My mother had planned the funeral, the only things I really decided was the music during the ceremony and what was going to stand on his tombstone.  The obvious song choice for me was Green Day’s Wake Me Up When September Ends and on the stone it says Beloved father, son, brother.

As soon as I stepped into the curch I broke into tears. I stood by the coffin crying during the music and while people lighted their candle for my fahter. When we went outside to lower the coffin into the ground my legs wouldn’t carry and I sat down infront of the hole. I didn’t say a few words, while everyone looked at me I just threw down my rose. My mother and my childhood friend tried pulling me back up on my legs. I didn’t join the get together after the funeral, I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t want to smile because he lived, I just wanted to run away from the problem which was exactly what I did.

My relationship with my father was complicated and there was alot that happened, he treated me very badly but he was my father and at first I didn’t know how to live without him, I still don’t.

The loss of my father sent me into a even deeper depression than the one I suffered when he was alive. The first year after his death I had alot of nightmares and I woke up kicking, screaming, hitting and crying.
The dreams were always similar. My father died, we burried him. When we got back to my grandmother’s house he was alive. Standing on her porch. Sometimes he’d admit that he died others he didn’t know. I still have those dreams sometimes, and everytime I get a moments confusion if he really died or not.

In the begining my mother was my rock. She comforted me, came running when I woke up screaming.

It was after he died I took my first overdose. ‘Cause I wanted to be with him, a reason of why I keep trying to kill myself is because I don’t know how to live without him. I don’t want to live without him.

 

American Idiot; My story.

This is the story how Green Day changed my life for the first time.

My story starts watching the Simpsons movie which planted the name Green Day in my head. After that there is a break until christmas eve. Christmas was always chaotic, and this year was no different. The first thing that happened after we came home from my aunts house was that we started to fight it ended up with me at 11 years old got kicked out in the cold and snowing christmas eve. I wasn’t welcome back home for a long period of time so I lived with my grandmother until it was time to go to mom’s place over new years. Mom and me decided not to celebrate new years eve, mostly for the dogs sake but I couldn’t sleep that night. So I stayed up on my phone looking for music when I found Green Day’s American Idiot. There was one line that got stuck in my head “Everything isn’t meant to be OK”. It got me thinking and I started to realize that the way things looked with my father, the things that happened and the situation wasn’t OK. So when the time came to go back home I refused to go back, which made me end up in foster care.

American Idiot also got me intressed in music over all, and eventually I started playing myself.

There is only one thing I sometimes can regret, and that’s the fact no one took me from my parents much sooner. But Green Day have always been there for me, no matter what happened and them coming into my life was the best thing that could have happened. I’m forever grateful.

 

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 mothers 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.

image

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

Music.

I am having a moment when I sit and listen to music with tears in my eyes. With a feeling of that I am missing someone, and I do.
My father.

Me and my father’s relationship wasn’t good at all, but we had something that we shared. Music. I swear I have NEVER seen my father so proud of me as he was when I sat behind the drums playing in front of an audience.

I’d really need him to tell me not to give up on music right now. He truly knew how to make me believe in myself. He knew what to say to make me believe I had a chance to be successful in music.

Me and my mother can sit and listen to music, but we don’t share the music like me and my father actually did.

I love and miss my father, I truly do. It’s just complicated. I am angry and sad with him. I wish things would have been different, but we somehow gave up. Our relationship didn’t seem to get any better. Maybe he felt guilt for what he did to me or for what he put me trough, but I am ashamed for what happened. I can’t forgive myself leaving when he was sick. I just couldn’t believe he would die. In my eyes he was strong, a fighter. The fact tjat he’d die didn’t excist in my world.

This summer it’s four years ago that he died. I will never forget the day my mother told me he passed. I will never forget the furneral.
He was supposed to turn 45 only a month later, next year he would habe turned 50. What would that have been like? What would my life look like if he didn’t die, if he didn’t get sick?

It all came of a sudden. He just got a stoke and a few days later he passed.
Two days before he passed I was picked up by my mother after a decicion that was made a couple of months earlier. I was supposed to move home to her. I remember that when we were packing the car I saw my mother stand looking straight out in the forest with a empty look on her eyes. When I asked her what was going on she told me it wasn’t anything. After about an hour we stopped at a gas station. I got some candy, a magazine and a Red Bull. I remember that I had a poster of Green Day in the car. I got back to the car and mom had the same look om her eyes. This time when I asked her she told me:
“If I don’t tell you now you are going to hate me for the rest of your life. Your grandmother called. He didn’t make it”. I threw myself into the car and I cried and screamt. It happened, something I’d never could imagine. My father was dead.
At the furneral we played “Wake Me Up When September Ends”. Even though my father died in June, Green Day was something we justed to enjoy both of us. I started crying the moment we got into the church. I stood by the coffin alone for almost 10 minutes alone during the furneral. When it was time to burry the coffin… I broke down in front of the empty whole in the ground. I sat there for the entire time. My mother and my childhood friend tried almost lifting me up. I didn’t move. As soon as the furneral was over I left. I didn’t stay to spend time with the family, I couldn’t stand being around them, not without my daddy.
It’s been 3 and a half year.

Last year I almost lost my mother to the illness she had been suffering from the past 30 years. I have never been so scared. I was about to lose my only parent alive. If we got the call only a couple of days later my mother wouldn’t have survived, the call that they had a new organ for my dear mother.

Oh wow. I just realized how much I wrote. How it started with how important the music was for mine and my father’s relationship to explaining the death qmd furneral of my father to how I almost lost my mother. I hope this won’t depress you. I just needed to share this. I couldn’t stand carrying it alone at the moment.

All the feelings.

I generally don’t like to write when I am upset, but right now I can’t make head or tails about my feelings.Yet alone what to do about it.

We have had a huge argument tonight at home. It started about 23.50 I believe and now it’s around 2 am.
My mother broke my heart saying I don’t understand how sick she’s truly been, just because I haven’t been at home all the time, but instead in foster-care.
I SAVED MY MOTHER’S LIVE.
Even when I wasn’t at home.
I want so much of my mother, she is on a pedestal in my eyes, amazing, strong, independent. She is an inspiration to me. But I want things of her that she can’t give.

I really love my mother, and I put so much of my own life away to save hers. I have done all that I can to make sure she would live another day. I did it all because of love, and I honestly don’t know what to do without her.
It’s clear to me that she doesn’t understand how much I have really done, she even told me tonight that she had no idea.
My stepfather actually helped me, he defended me against my mother and told her what I actually have done for her.
I always get to hear from her friends, from people that are supposed to help me and my mother herself how bad I make her feel, and that she is tired and needs a break away from me. How much I ruin for her, and how much I take for her.

Sure, I take, but I gave all I could as well.
I gave myself away, because without her I’d be lost.
She is my only family together with my grandmother, when father died I had nothing, but her. My grandmother lost herself at that point and I fell into depression.
I love my mother more than I love myself.
And If I’d have to do it again, I would without a doubt.
I gave my mother all the time I had, she is always on my mind. I am always worried about her, I don’t want to leave her alone, because I don’t know if she will survive.

I took care of her as a child and at that time I saved her life for the first time, and since then I can’t let her go, I just want to take care of her and protect her.
But I want to be taken care of, I want her to protect me.
I don’t want her to take my fights, I want her support. I want her to stand by my side and hold my hand when I need her to.
I feel so alone, I don’t know what to do.
I have taken care of her for so long and now I just want her to do the same for me.

It’s wrong of me to feel this way, I know it’s all my fault.
But I dream of the day she will just hug me so I just can cry and let it all out.
I know it’s all my fault, I know I am the reason why she feels this way.
I know I am a failure, and I take all of her time. I know I shouldn’t care anything about myself, I know that I should continue taking care of her. I know that she’s done her best, I know she’s done what she could. I know I should feel guilty. I know I should take the blame. I know I should take the fall. I know I am an awful person that doesn’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve to be happy. I know that all I do is wrong.
But I still feel like it’s not all my fault.

I wanted to play drums, with friends. Start a band, playing at school and in a junk-filled garage. I wanted to make music, but today… I can’t play, because I feel like I suck and it’s not the same to play alone.

The doctors took a lot of test of my blood and found nothing. I don’t know what it could be making me feel this way. The stress causes another type of pain, in another place. Nothing of what I feel now I felt before when I have been stressed or upset.
Even now as I write I feel something else, because of the mental pain.
It’s not the same.
Coming my way, doctors, hospitals, more investigation.

I feel lost. All these feelings.
I am a misfit, a failure. A nobody. A no one. Nothing.
I am not who I used to be.

I saw the stars every night. And now I don’t know who I am, all these feelings I can’t deal with. I am so far away from myself and I have so much to work with.
Right now I see no stars.
Only broken dreams.

I know my new year’s resolutions:
(NOT IN ORDER)
1. Lose weight.
2. Start studying.
3. Play more drums.
4. Make friends.
5. Try starting a band.
6. Working with my mental health.
7. Working on my mother’s and my relationship.
8. Go back home.
9. Visit my friends.
10. Visit my grandmother.
11. Visit my father’s grave.
12. Trying to make up with my family.
13. Become my own friend, not enemy.
14. Create memories to remember, good ones.
15. Become a better christian.
16. Get my love.

I want to see the stars again, I want to become myself again.
The fun, honest, naive, adventurous, trusting, loyal person I once was.
I really grieve my father right now to, y’know Christmas?