The Motherless Daughters Club: And now I’ll always carry her with me

Ever since Mama passed away I’ve been looking for some way to keep her with me, besides just carrying her memories in my heart. Sometimes the memories aren’t enough to keep me going and I feel as if I need something more physical, something I can hold, wear or carry with me. The past 4 years I’ve just been looking around for mourning jewellery, but I couldn’t find anything that made me want to even consider using her hair or ashes for. My taste is a bit specific and I couldn’t quite figure it out.

You can do the craziest things with remains nowadays, from planting them into a tree, to turning ashes into diamonds!! Not only did I find it hard to find something I found beautiful according to my own taste, but also something that would suit her. I feel as if a lot of jewellery nowadays has lost the charm it once had. I can’t even remember the last time I spent money on jewellery to be honest! Anyways, I toyed with the idea of getting her ashes turned into a diamond for a while, but being a student, I simply don’t have the budget for it unfortunately.

But as time goes on, I felt as if I needed something like it, maybe I’ve just reached that stage of grieving where you just want something to cling onto. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve held and sniffed a shirt of hers, just because it still smells of her. I decided to go on the internet for some inspiration and quickly found the cheaper option of mourning jewellery. That option being lockets.

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It is probably the biggest and heaviest pendant I have ever had but it is just so beautiful

I’ve been crazy about lockets since I was little. I remember by sister and I giving Mama a silver locket with our pictures in it for Mother’s Day. I had one myself as well, with a picture of my childhood best friend in it. The idea of a pendant in which you can carry something I find amazing. But it would have to be something fitting.

I went on Etsy, as I often do, since Etsy is THE place to find interesting pieces, from garments to jewellery. I scoured through pages and pages of antique Victorian jewellery, so many lovely pieces, but I just couldn’t find it. Until one evening, while video chatting with my love and looking through Etsy once again, I stumbled upon this big, pinchbeck locket with floral patterns engraved into it. Despite its size, it had such an intricate feel to it. I don’t know what it was, but I was instantly drawn to it. However, at the time I couldn’t afford it, so I did put it on my wishlist, but wasn’t expecting to be able to get it. Such a beautiful Victorian piece wouldn’t be for sale long, would it?

Well, two weeks ago I decided to go check anyways and would you guess it? It was still up! After a bit of hesitation I decided to splurge and today it came into the mail! I opened my package and when I first laid my eyes upon it, it just felt right. It’s weird to describe, I was just overwhelmed with emotions. I found an old passport picture of her in my wallet, which I have put in now, but I know she would hate it. So I’ll keep it in there until I have found a better one. I’ll be flying to the Netherlands on Wednesday, so maybe my grandparents will have a better one lying around.

 


It was important to me that it was a piece of jewellery that I would love, but also something that would suit my mother. I’d say that I succeeded. My mother and I both love nature and feel a close connection to it. The engraving was something I instantly gravitated towards.

I bought the locket at this lovely shop called ”Vintage at Mums” on Etsy. The woman who runs it, Tracy, has an amazing collection of stunning antique pieces, which are definitely worth checking out! I know I’ll be wearing my locket with pride and even though I’ve only had it so shortly, it is already my favourite piece.

Do any of you out there have mourning jewellery, and if you do, what made you pick the pieces that you have?

I’d love to hear your stories!

– Naiyee

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Here’s to strong women

I grew up being raised by a single mom. My mom had been chronically ill for as long as I can remember and she managed to raise my sister and I all alone. My parents divorced when I was about six years old and it’s all I have ever known. My mom never spoke much about it, except that it happened after my father admitted to having a family with another woman. That woman ended up becoming my stepmother and yet another example of a strong woman in my life. My stepmom has two kids with my dad, my half sister and half brother. My half brother has special needs and it has always baffled me how well my stepmom dealt with all of it by herself. My dad wasn’t around much, so it was always the mother figures in my life picking up the pieces when something broke.

With that being said, I also grew up without much of a father figure in my life. My father first became an active part of my life after my mother passed away, but during my childhood it was always my Opa who showed me what a good father is like. For the longest time, and maybe still, I thought that good father figures were a rare thing to have. Many of my childhood friends had divorced parents with the dads often being absent or a passive part of their lives, only coming and going as it fit their schedule.

But thanks to my Opa and my mother figures I did not miss out on anything. When my mother passed away, someone else crossed my path. The woman I now consider to be my bonus mom and probably the strongest woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing. She is a breast cancer survivor and kept her family afloat when everything seemed to be falling apart. Not only that, but I believe she saved my family from falling apart too. She has had her heart broken many times, but like a phoenix, she rose up from the ashes, stronger than before. A woman I look up to, that’s for sure.

But as time went on, this little girl I’ve known since the moment she grew in my mother’s womb, my best little friend, my partner in crime, my younger sister now too grew into a woman with the heart of a warrior. Despite all the odds stacked up against her, she fought, pulled through and survived. I couldn’t be prouder to be her sister. I love her so much. But it’s not just her, but obviously also my half-sister. She also has had her fair share of hardships to deal with at a very young age and it has made her into a fierce, strong and amazing young woman. I love seeing how well she does, and it saddens me that I don’t get to see her as often as we used to.

I could never forget to write about my grandmother, my Oma here, even though I had not mentioned her earlier. While growing up I saw my mother and Oma fight a lot and I was never really able to understand why. But now that I am older, I do. Oma has a heart of gold and wears it on her sleeve. She is one of the most honest people I have ever known and I try to adopt her honesty, albeit it maybe with a little bit more filter.. 😉

Last year two special women in particular came into my life. My mother and sister in law, both extraordinary women. They’ve both fought their battles and stayed SO kind and strong despite all of it. And I admire and adore them for it. In a world so cruel kinder people are needed. I truly believe that it’s people like them, that make this world a better place to live in. I’d like to be kinder, just like they are.

It’s the influence of these lovely ladies (and those are just a few, I have so many amazing girlfriends as well but it would make this post even loooonger!), that I’m still here today. I couldn’t have gotten this far without their love and support.

Here’s to strong women, may we know them, may we be them, may we raise them!

Do you have strong women in your life?
I’d love to hear more about them!

-Naiyee

The Motherless Daughters Club: Tis the season?

Well well, it has been a while.. I have to admit that with this busy exam period going on, I haven’t had much time to think about the Christmas season, but last night it just hit me. Christmas is right around the corner! Not being able to see my mother around this time of the year is tough.

Growing up we celebrated Christmas when my parents were still together, but my mom became a Jehovah’s Witness in my early teens, so after that I’d often go to my grandparents to celebrate Christmas there and it wasn’t really until I moved to Denmark that I actually started celebrating this time of the year.

But despite the fact that my mom didn’t really celebrate Christmas anymore in the last years of her life, I can’t help but miss her a little bit extra during this time. I see a lot of my peers going shopping for presents with their moms, and as happy as I am for them, I can’t help but hurt inside when I see it. Thoughts like ”Why can’t I do that?” or ”They don’t know how lucky they are” go through my head. Because I really do wonder sometimes if they realise how lucky they are. Something as simple as just calling mom to tell her how her day was or to ask her if she’s 100% sure if she wouldn’t like a tiny little Christmas present anyway is something I’d do anything for to experience one more time. But it will never be. And that hurts. The silence is loud. I want to get that phone call on NYE to wish me a happy new year, and damnit, why can’t I have that phone call?

Luckily for me, I have enough things to keep me preoccupied for now with work and exams. I’ll be spending Christmas and New Years with my Finnish family, so hopefully I won’t be feeling too blue, but I know not everyone who is part of this club is that lucky.

Tis the season to be with family and make memories for most. But for me, my sister and everyone else who lost their mom, tis the grim reminder that we’ll never make those memories again.

People often say that this loss loses its sharp edges and that you learn to live with the pain, but why does it for me feel as if the pain and burden only gets worse over the years? Because I still can’t talk about her without wanting to curl up and cry. She was still supposed to be here, she was supposed to see me get married and have kids. But she will never. And that’s unfair. It shouldn’t be like this.

To my fellow motherless daughters out there,

Stay strong during this time of the year. I’m thinking of each and every one of you out there. We got this. We can get through it.

Lots of love,

Naiyee

The Motherless Daughters Club: Would she be proud of me?

Today marks the fourth year since my mom passed away and it is tough.. Getting through the night and day without breaking down is difficult. On days like these I try to practise self care. I take a day off from work or school to allow myself to just be and cry if I need to.

During these four years without her, I often wonder how she would feel about the decisions that I make. Not having her around to ask for advice is still something I’m getting used to, even after four years. My life has changed a lot in this time span in so many different ways. But the one question that keeps me up some nights is:

”Would she be proud of me?”

I’m not necessarily a validation seeking person, not at all, but the opinion of my mother always meant a lot to me, which makes sense I guess.. Having lost my mom at a young age, the age where you may not be considered fully adult yet and not having to make any serious adult decisions, it is hard to imagine what type of advice she would give in certain situations. Not only that, but also what her stance and opinions would be during difficult times.

Everyone around me always tell how she would be proud and even though those words mean a lot, they don’t give me a lot of comfort, because they aren’t their opinions I need to hear in times like those. That being said, I am extremely grateful for everyone offering some kind of support and/or understanding. It is nice knowing that there are people out there who care. But I feel as if my mother’s words and advice are the only ones that can help me get through it, but she’s gone..

The best way of describing this feeling is like going all the way back to when I was small and mom and I would go shopping. When you’re small, these stores are HUGE! Imagine that and then losing your mom in that big store. But instead of having that uncomfortable and scary feeling slip away and feeling relieved when you find her again, she is gone. Because that’s what it feels like. I feel all alone in this great big world, knowing my mom won’t be there to find her way back to me.

I had to start my adult life without her, having to make a lot of really tough decisions without her. And even though in the back of my head I know that she would be proud, I can’t help but wonder.. I hope she would be. I would just love to hear her say it one more time.

Luckily for me, not all hope is completely gone. I have a great support system of family and friends who are there to pick me up when I fall and for that I am thankful. Without them I wouldn’t have made it through.

And to any of you out there who have lost their mother,

I’m proud of you for sticking through the hard times. You’re a badass and you deserve all the good things in the world. You got this, you always have and you always will.

-Naiyee

The Motherless Daughters Club: The story of how I lost my mom

Today’s post is going to be a tough one!

Next week, on the 29th of November, marks four years since my mother passed away. Growing up I had heard stories of my peers losing a parent, but I had never really given the idea of losing my mother any thought. ”That would never happen to me!” I’d say.. Until it actually happened.

I was 20 years old, embarking on this whole new journey in my life. I had just graduated vet tech school and I had just moved to Denmark to be with my boyfriend at the time. All in all I was very excited about the start of my new life. That was until I received a phone call from my Opa. He was in tears, I still remember till this day how upset he was. ”Your mother has been admitted to the hospital and it isn’t good. We don’t know what is going on, but it’s bad news”. Those words still haunt me. I was all alone, my then boyfriend was at work and it felt like the ground was disappearing from underneath me. I tried to go about my day, phone in my hand, until Mama called me. She told me they would take some more tests, but they were pretty sure that it was cancer. Cancer. The disease that I’ve seen wreaking havoc all around me. I had seen people die from it. Heck, my mom has undergone surgery for it a few years prior, but the doctors said it wasn’t anything serious.

To hear that it came back felt like a slap in the face. No, actually, it felt like a punch in the stomach. My mind was racing a thousand miles an hour.  The following weeks were a blur. I’d try to Skype with Mama and the rest of my family as much as I could. They ended up finding out that Mama was suffering from a very rare subtype of Non Hodgkin Lymphoma. She’d keep me updated about her progress and how her rounds of chemo were going. Eventually she started losing her hair and we Skyped while my sister shaved off Mama’s hair. It was raw, it was rough and I was struggling to keep my emotions in. Mama actually sent me a lock of her hair, which I today still keep in a little box with some of her jewellery.

The chemo started taking a toll on her health. Mama has always been a bit weaker. She had been suffering from chronic illnesses for years at that point. At this point, three months in, she needed me to be there, so I hesitantly booked my flight to be there with my family. I was scared.

”Is she still the same? She looks so different.. What if I make her sicker?”

I arrived and I could tell she was filled with joy to see me. I wasn’t too happy, but I knew it was the right thing to do. A couple of days leading up to my arrival back home we found out that my childhood dog Lilo also had cancer and wouldn’t be around for much longer. A couple of days later we had to put our beloved Lilo down. It definitely was a blow for all of us. But I tried to spend as much time with my family and friends as possible. I accompanied my mom to her weekly trips to the hospital and all seemed well, until Mama started getting sicker again. She couldn’t keep anything in and the doctors decided that it’d be smart for her to be readmitted so they could run some tests and scans. The day before I was supposed to go back to Denmark I decided to go to the hospital and be with Mama. Her doctor came in and asked if we’d like to come to the family room to discuss her PET scan results and I immediately sensed something wasn’t right. I told Mama, but she seemed confident that it was all fine. I remember saying: ”But… If everything is fine, why wouldn’t she want to tell us here?” Mama shared a room with some other patients and well.. You wouldn’t bring bad news in a room full with other people. Off to the family room we went..

”I’ll just cut right to the chase. Your treatment isn’t working anymore. The cancer is fighting back a couple of times worse than in the beginning.. I’m really sorry, but it’d probably be better if you would go home and spend the time you still have with your family..”

I don’t think I have ever screamed and cried as much in front of my family and strangers as I did that evening. It felt like my world shattered into a million pieces in mere seconds. Watching Mama and Opa break down was the worst thing I have ever had to witness. They were the people who seemed invincible to me. The car ride home to Oma and my sister was long. I recall Mama trying to hold my hands, but I was completely out of it. I couldn’t look at her, it hurt too bad.

”Don’t you want me to hold your hand?”
”Fuck, Mama, what am I supposed to do without you?”

She held me and we cried on the back seat, all the way home. My sister and Oma were devastated too. And then we suddenly had a funeral to plan. The doctors couldn’t say how much longer she had. Could be a couple of weeks, could be a couple of months. The cancer rapidly took over her body up until the point where she was bed bound. Mama had decided she wanted to be put under palliative care instead of choosing euthanasia, since she thought euthanasia would be too hard for my sister and I. I’d have preferred if she opted for euthanasia, but my sister was happier with the palliative care. Only goes to show how this differs for each individual! Seeing Mama’s health deteriorate so badly was hard to watch.

Mama and I had a complicated relationship. We fought a lot as I got older. For the most part I’m a carbon copy of her, maybe not necessarily looks, but definitely personality, just minus the ADD for me. I used to see her as this invincible entity. Mama who could do anything, Mama who would scare anyone away who’d try to hurt me, Mama who would ALWAYS be there, right? Having to take of her, helping her out of bed, making her food, taking her on walks was something that suddenly didn’t seem like a chore anymore, but I actually liked it, knowing that her time here was coming to an end.. That end came sooner than any of us really anticipated.

The day she decided to be put to sleep came and we had to say goodbye, since she would sleep until she would eventually pass away. It was rough. None of us wanted to say goodbye. I still wanted to ask her so many things, go on so many more hikes, have so many more barbecues, sing so many more songs.

”I am so sorry it has gone so fast Nennie.. I really am”

We hugged, we kissed, we laughed for the last time and then she slept. Four days later she finally passed. When my bonus mom came up in my room to tell me she passed, it felt like a relief. Mama wasn’t suffering anymore. The funeral was planned and it was just the way she would have wanted it. We got a bunch of permanent markers, which people could take to write a message on her casket with and the casket transformed from a boring white casket to a casket filled with messages and flowers. It left an impression for sure. It’s funny how one person could have such an impact.  Mama was a dog lover and part of a big community of dog enthusiasts. When she was driven away to be cremated all of her friends were there with their dogs to pay tribute to her and honor her. I look back on it with a smile, knowing she would have loved it.

Having lost her also meant my sister and I lost our childhood home, our dogs and our safe space. Losing her was so much more than losing just her. We lost our old lives and suddenly had to start something new. In the beginning I was convinced I couldn’t do it, but so far, I’d say I’m doing pretty darn well.

I miss her. I miss her so much and it hurts. I wouldn’t even say that it hurts less, because I’m still hurting as much as I did the moment her heart stopped beating. I’ve just learned how to live with it..

In the end, you can’t lose someone who sits so deep within your heart to death. Their memory and stories keep them alive in a way.

– Naiyee