Sadly, that was our last in-person visit. Our weekly phone calls continued for a few more weeks, until one Sunday morning when the voice on the other end was not that of Mom, but rather that of my cousin. Yes. He didn’t really have to spell it out. Mom had started her final decline Saturday afternoon, and died early Sunday morning. Overwhelming sadness, as most experience even when the news is not entirely unexpected. The separation was very painful for me, and I just hope that Mom was not suffering the way I was during her transition. Saturday, I woke up with a splitting headache that rapidly developed into one of the worst migraines I’ve ever experienced. None of my usual remedies brought relief – rather, the pain was getting worse as the day wore on. Then, late evening, it suddenly lifted. Just like that – pouf, it was gone! Strangely, the timing of that headache-turned-migraine corresponded perfectly with the progression of Mom’s final struggle – that migraine lifted at the time of Mom’s passing.

  I’m no “mystic”, or any kind of supernatural fanatic. I’d LIKE to believe in a lot of these things, and I think there’s definitely something there – though too commonly there’s too much effort put into “making it so”, leading to it loosing credibility by being too far-fetched. I don’t know just what the significance was of my migraine – but I am convinced that it was somehow connected to Mom’s death. The time-line is too parallel for it to not be.

  In our lives together, Mom and I both suffered occasional migraines, Mom’s were probably worse – and definitely more frequent – than mine. Since Mom’s death, I have not had a single migraine. Headaches, yes, but not those debilitating migraines. It’s been almost 11 years, by now.

  Today, February 18, is the anniversary of Dad’s passing. Unbelievably, it’s been 31 years since this wonderful man left his earthly life – and I still shed tears of missing him. At the time of Dad’s death I was in close physical proximity, unlike with Mom’s. Dad was fading away in a hospital bed, it was only a matter of time, as “they” say. Mom, myself, and our dear friends/neighbors took turns at his bedside, never leaving him alone. On the evening of February 17 I had finished a long “shift” at his side, and our friends showed up to relieve me. Ordinarily, I would have left right away and either visited with other friends, or commiserated at home with Mom. This evening, however, I couldn’t leave. Nothing seemed to have changed with Dad’s condition at this point, but something just kept me there, despite our friends’ insistence that I go get some rest. I just sat at Dad’s side, holding his hand most of the time. Sometime after midnight it became apparent that Dad’s condition had changed – a “restlessness” had set in. A little while later the rattling last breaths of my beloved Dad brought home how the world can change from one minute to the next.

  I was young and didn’t have a clue, as the saying goes, when Dad was declining, and the last thing I would have consciously recognized at that time would have been impending death. Yet – SOMEthing kept me at Dad’s side, that night.

  There are many, many coincidences in life, which indeed, I do recognize. A myriad of other instances of “fortuitous choices” litter everybody’s, including mine, life – but these two, they really seem to illuminate how strong bonds of love, and blood, can be. It may sound kooky but it warms my heart that the bond to Mom and Dad was so strong that they somehow invited me to their journeys.

Undying Love

  We’re talking January 6th and January 13th, here. So what, you say? Well, it’s a CULTURAL thing!

  The 13th Day (of Christmas!) is also – and maybe better – known as Epiphany, and was the original celebration of the birth of Christ. It was the day that the Three Wise Men arrived to see the newborn King. The revision of Catholic calendars moved Christmas to the current December 25th, and many countries dropped the original celebration date – at least as the main Christmas celebration. Interestingly, the celebration of Epiphany, or “Befana”, is relatively strong in Italy, and gift-giving is very common especially (of course!) to the children. I’m not sure how it works, but I think “La Befana” (the witch or fairy) visits over-night and leaves the presents. No chimneys or sleighs involved, though, to the best of my knowledge…

  In Sweden, the Thirteenth Day is an observed holiday, but I don’t remember any particular celebratory traditions. There tend to be special concerts, and fine dining/feasts, are common, but it is mostly treated as a secular holiday. We celebrate Christmas Eve (December 24th) as the main Christmas “event” – it’s when Jultomten (our Santa Claus) brings the presents, etc. This makes Christmas Day (December 25th) the first day of Christmas, hence January 6th is the thirteenth day.

  Many countries, including the U.S., have the main celebration on Christmas Day – and then start counting the Twelve Days Of Christmas, made “famous” by the song about the partridge in a pear tree. Epiphany itself seems to have been mostly forgotten here, though, except for in observing religious communities.

  The 20th Day (of Christmas!) Canute (Knut) follows the same counting of the days as for Epiphany (see above). Knut was a Danish nobleman murdered for political reasons in the 12th century, and canonized for miracles attributed to him. Only Sweden and Norway seem to be celebrating St. Knut, but others celebrate St. Hilary of Poitiers on this same day.

  For Swedes, 20th Day Knut is THE last day of Christmas celebrations – the last of the seasonal food is consumed, the decorations put away, and the Christmas tree stripped of it’s glory and thrown out (literally!). This is usually accompanied by a party, particularly for the kids, called “Julgransplundring” (the plunder of the Christmas tree). It is customary to decorate the tree with ginger snap cookies and homemade fudges and caramels placed in handmade braided heart shaped paper “baskets” and/or in “smällkarameller”, the latter similar to the British Christmas Crackers. Raisins or nuts are also commonly included. Apples and oranges tend to be too heavy for the poor old tree to support, so you don’t often see them hung from the tree. The children get to pick all these goodies off the tree, and dancing and singing around it makes for a lively and quite chaotic party. Part of the festivities often includes a “fishing pond” – a sheet is mounted at an appropriate height across a doorway, and the children get a stick with a string and a clothespin to angle in the pond. An adult clips a goodie bag to the clothespin for the child to reel in. This is usually a very popular game!!!

Here’s a link to learn more about Swedish Christmas traditions!
firajul.nu
(hit the “translate” button if you don’t speak Swedish )

For more about Christmas traditions around the world, this is a great site:
Christmas Celebrations
(this site is in English!)

  I had to do some on-line research, here, just to see if I had my “gestalt” right. And my gestalt holds up (and what I found may lead me to a good ol’ rant over on TheStupidAppraiser, LOL)! It has been bothering me that “Veterans Day” and “Armistice Day” are used almost interchangeably. Add to that “Remembrance Day”, which is used in a similar fashion in regards to “Armistice Day” in Commonwealth countries. Armistice Day has “always” made sense to me – marking the cease-fire of WWI and honoring those who fought “the war to end all wars”, both dead and alive. With the lofty add-on of perpetuating “World Peace” (yeah, well, like that’s ever going to happen!).

  So – where did “Veterans Day” come from? “Armistice Day” had only been officially instituted as a holiday in 1938, when already in 1954 its purpose was changed to include veterans of all wars. Further confusion/diffusion of the original purpose came with the “Uniform Holiday Bill” in 1968, where 3-day weekends were created by moving the observance day to either Monday or Friday. The first such observance was in 1971, and – predictably – caused confusion and malcontent, so by 1978 “Veterans Day” was, again, celebrated on the actual day of November 11.

  “Remembrance Day” doesn’t seem to have gone through quite as much massaging, still focusing on the original WWI veterans, and on the end of that first “modern war”. Understandably, the more outlying members of the Commonwealth who were not as directly involved in the war, assign lesser significance to that day, and instead honor their war dead and heroes on other, specifically instituted national holidays – such as ANZAC day in Australia.

  Meanwhile, “Memorial Day” has been completely bowled over in the Nation’s quest for 3-day weekends and inclusiveness, despite it dating back to the 1860′s and having the purpose, since shortly after WWI, of honoring all fallen war heroes – past, present and future, not just of one specific war. Many have the misconception that it is a day to honor any and all dead (servicemen/women or not), and many are mainly concerned with the “un-official start of summer”.

  And then there’s “Mårten Gås”!!!

  My Dad was from Skåne (the South of Sweden) where the Martin Goose tradition is more prevalent than in the rest of the country. So, even though we lived in Stockholm, Mom adopted the tradition and put on the goose feast, complete with trimmings & black soup. I remember it well, even as a child I quite liked it. The soup was very strong, heavily seasoned with cloves and allspice – and with a substantial shot of cognac! Mom would make “kråset” (a kind of sausage) with the giblets, heart & liver mixed with white rice and either raisins or currants. A slice or two of that would go into each serving of soup. Yes, the soup is made from blood, originally it would have been collected during the slaughter of the goose, but Mom used pig’s blood. It does turn a dark brown with no hint of the original red color, so thinking that you must have vampire tendencies to eat it is just silly. The goose feast tradition was mentioned in 1171 A.D., according to one source, and another notes a letter accompanying a gift of a “martens goose” – dating to 570 A.D. I’d say that makes it a pretty old tradition, all lore aside!

Read more about the feast, and its origins in these two links:
The filling goose dinner
St. Martin of Tours — “The Glory of Gaul” — was born around A.D. 316…

In observance of Veterans Day, I fly the Flag and spend some extra time pondering past and present horrors, and pray that some day – some day! – we won’t be diluting the significance of our existing remembrance days any further.