When sky is falling; facing my Mother’s death.

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We think that we build our lives on axioms. We think that there is an order to our life, that is as unshakable as laws of physics. We think that people around us and our relationships are constant.
But then, an event comes that makes our reality crumble. We face our very own, personal apocalypse.
When sky is falling, it is hard to grab the pieces and put them back together. It is impossible in fact. Tragedy strikes, just like that, it comes uninvited.
And you realize, with dread; nothing will be the same again.
Bones will heal, yet scars will remain.
When chaos comes crashing into our lives, we need to be able to perceive a deeper order. We need to find a meaning behind suffering. In such moments, doubt and faith that reside in our heart, tangle themselves in an unforgiving combat.
And which wolf will win?, asks the man in ancient parable. The one that you keep feeding…
My mother died two weeks ago.
A person that gave me life is gone. It is something hard to comprehend. She was always there, but she is not here anymore.
One of the most fundamental axioms of my reality was shattered within a couple of days. It took that one phone call from my Father,  these three words; “Mum is dead” to send me spinning out of the comfortable, careless reality I have known. I found myself somewhere else.
Instead of my Mum’s Presence, there was a void and I felt like I was drowning in an abyss.
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Memories would swarm into my mind.
I remember we would sit with my Mum in the kitchen, same spots every time, my Mum beside the window, me beside the fridge (easier to reach for a snack). We would talk about all our family, all our common friends, their lives, latest developments.
We could talk like that for hours, until we completely depleted the family/friends list.
Then I would ask “Do you have anything more interesting to say?” and she would laugh at that old joke over and over again.
I remember my Mum reading books to her grandsons, my two little boys. Them cuddling to her, as she was the base upon which they were building the fundaments of their lives. She taught them the language of love, through her Great Presence, before they knew how to speak.
I remember last Christmas, when my Mother, would look at the battlefield that our living room has become; huge Christmas tree, pieces of gift packages torn, toys scattered everywhere, every single inch of space occupied by Her loved ones; my Family, my Brothers, my Father, my Aunt, and Uncle. My Mum’s eyes had that peace in them. Although my Mum looked tired, her happy eyes were saying; the big dream of having an “Italian sized family Christmas” finally came to be.
None of this will ever come back.  It all came to a horrible, sudden stop. These colorful pictures were torn by one image that carved its way through, to reside in my memories for the rest of my life;
Me and My Father, in an empty chapel, above an opened coffin with my Mother’s body. As I made the last blessing, the sign of the cross on my Mum’s cold forehead I faced a choice.
I could focus on what would never be, and what was taken away from us.
All the plans we made, all the hopes we had, all the possibilities my Family and my Children would have if my Mum would be still around. I could focus on some relatives that hurt my Mum by their selfish actions, and possibly even contributed to her rapid decline.
I could focus on that, and become even more enraged, and eventually bitter.
Or I could focus on the Light. The Light that is the Legacy of Love, my Mother left behind.  The crowds came to pay their respects, (the Church was full, people had to stand as there were no sitting spots left) is one of the best Testimonies to that legacy.
My Mother had a good life, we had a great, healthy relationship, she taught me a lot. She taught me enough, so in such moments, I would be ready not only to stand on my feet but be a pillar for those who need my support.
So choice is simple; be bitter or be grateful.
I believe it is time for me now to set my eyes for the future and keep carrying the Torch I was given.
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We think that we build our lives on axioms.
But in truth; life is a flow. What is constant about it is the motion.
We are all running somewhere. And so we need to face the reality, that people that are close to us, get lost on the way.
But it is fine.
As long as we are heading in the same direction, we will eventually meet again.

 

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As my second son was born, he reminded me of what it truly means to be a father.

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Danielle MacInnes

My son took me by surprise. I thought I knew everything by now, he was second after all, but first look into his eyes changed everything in an instant.

It was like gazing into infinity.

Here I was again, looking at the world through the eyes of a newborn, in an absolute awe and with an absolute love.

I remember now, that to be a father means to have a heart beating in someone else’s chest.

To be a father means to love so much that it hurts.

To be a father means to live your life, as if you are in a constant spotlight – and the audience are those who you love the most.

To be a father means to willingly step down from a main role in life’s journey, handle it to your children.

To be father means to carry a sweet yoke for the rest of your life – as you will never cease to care for your children.

To be father means to have black coffee and white nights.

To be a father means, letting your children fall and guide them to learn from their mistakes, because as much as it hurts watching their knees get bruised, you know you it is the only way to get them ready for what’s up ahead.

Because to be a father, means also realisation that you raise your children not for yourself but for the world.

After all, nothing sums better the essence of parenthood as the poem of Kahlil Gibran.

These words ring in my soul, over an over as I stroke my son’s forehead and I dive deep into the depth of his eyes;

On Children
 Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Alone?

There will be a time when you will be alone. You will not avoid it.

There will be time when you will be abandoned, forgotten, left astray…

Maybe there are people around you that love you, but there will be time when they will be gone. Maybe you will have to take that challenge, change your job, you town, your country, your life. Maybe you will dip into failure, and the ones who had your back will turn it on you. Maybe you will achieve success and the ones whom you cherished will not recognize you anymore.

You will be left alone. No matter how hard you will try, you will have to face it eventually.

Maybe you will get sick. Maybe you will get misunderstood. Maybe you will have an accident. Maybe you will get old and everyone who ever mattered will just fade away.

No matter what happens, this time will come some day.  You will be alone.

And then you will have to do it.

Play with open cards. Take the veil off and look into your own heart. It is then, when the answer to this one question will define on how this loneliness will treat you:

Alone?

Did I live my life true to myself or was my life just a mere reflection in the eyes of the others?

Radek from the Blue Moon

Life is a flow

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Life is a flow

 

There is no “fixed” stage of life.

Nothing is set in stone. Things are changing, always and perpetual.

Even then when we reach our wildest dreams, there is still something more to be achieved or yet to be maintained.

Life is not a mountain, that you can conquer by a single, spontaneous attempt and then enjoy the view from it’s top.

Life is like a wave.

It flows.

We are there carried by it in our tiny, little boats.

We have no choice but to keep paddling. That is the only way to stay on it’s top.

 

Blue moon station – operational


**WARNING** – commencing landing procedures.

Docking in progress.

**please wait**

Opening vacuum gate.

all systems online

**updating facility status**

Location: moon

Moon color: blue

Station crew: 2

———————————-> It has been a while Captain.<————————————————

———————————-> Welcome home!<————————————————