A completely different story...

A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT STORY

Taken today at my mother's urn burial spot

“Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.”

― José N. Harris

Today I'll write a completely different story. A story not related to cocktails. On one hand it is a happy story but on the other a heart-breaking one.

In the past year so much has happened I sometimes have difficulties grasping all that really went on. Moreover, "ranking" these life events according to "importance" is utterly futile, since in the end it does not really matter. They have all happened and I have dealt with them in my own way.

Last year, on this exact date, my mother passed away. The day before that I quit my old job and was starting my career as a bartender. And the day before that I did my first ever tryout shift at said bar to see if I was "bartending material". It was "just like any weekend" except that my sister had called me on Saturday and told me our mother wasn't doing too good. We drove about 165km to my sister's place so "the next day we could see our mom."

We never got to do that as she passed away in her sleep.

I cried and I wept. I felt guilt for not visiting my mother, no, for not appreciating the time with my mother while she still lived nearer to me&wife. Back then, years ago, I felt as if I was obliged to do it every Sunday.

Also, as the youngest son I felt as if I had the "least time with her" in comparison with my older siblings. It's funny how you take such things for granted and when they're suddenly gone you realize how much you really had. It's ironic since I was the closest sibling for a few years when my mother still lived in Tampere. After her condition made her move to a town where my oldest sister lives, I never got around visiting her with the exception of Easter or some other "special events". When I now think of that time, it is really shameful how few a times I saw her during that time.

The last time I could reasonably talk with her was in fact 2013 Easter. Her condition collapsed a few months later and in July, 2013 she could barely talk but instead lie in bed. Just seeing her that time, I cried the whole visit while there.

The next and last time I saw her was at the funeral. As Orthodox, it was an open casket funeral and only a few relatives were attending. My oldest brother flew from Germany with his wife & oldest son to attend the ceremony.

I get comfort from my siblings with whom I stayed for almost a week in Kerava. I also got major support from my wife & her family. A few months later I invited close friends and relatives at my home where we ate, had coffee and read condolence cards sent by people who knew my mother.

That weekend was a big point in my life. I could say, where one life ends, another begins (as in my new career). Now, on this exact date in 2014, I'm ~one month away from being a father for my first born child. It's a mystery where life lays paths for one to follow. A path I have never walked before and sometimes the sole idea of fatherhood scares the s**t out of me. But I will prevail and raise one helluva kid.

A TOAST TO MY MOTHER!