Today, 31 years ago was the last day my mother was alive. I am in my forties now and I am surprised year and year again how much it still hurts. I suspect when you lose your mother at such an early age (I was 12 years old) it never stops hurting entirely. For me, the pain just changes. It is now more about the fact that I never had the chance to get to know my mother as an adult and being able to connect with her on the same level. Therefore today I lean against my mother and listen to the storyteller together with her. Or maybe she is the storyteller. Who knows…

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt:“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear.“

Your arms around me hold me close. I can feel the bones in your cancer-ridden body. But I can feel your smile that was full of life to the end as well. “Turn around child!” The storyteller asks me on the other side of the oak tree. I do not want to. I do not want to lose that image of your smile. I do not want to lose that feeling of your arms around me. “Turn around child!” The storyteller asks again. You let me go. I can feel you vanish so I turn in panic to get hold of you again. But I can not feel you anymore. So I open my eyes and there is that stream of light engulfing me and I can hear you whisper: “I love you!”