A letter to my Mother

Dearest Mama,

It is Mother's Day, a day you did not care about much. At least not the commercial part of it.
But you appreciated and cared for an extra hug, an 'I love you', a warm embrace, holding your hand.
Just the normal but ever important affection in daily life, not solely on Mother's Day.

Being a mother and wife was your joy, not a duty. Your dream was being a mother of a large family but knew that just my brother and I were miracles with miscarriages in between.
We were so much wanted and even more loved.

Viewing photos of our childhood, I smile. I see the love in the way you hold us, in your eyes looking at us. Watching us when were not in immediate reach, always alert without smothering.

You were also a mother to foster children, our friends, you created a warm and welcoming home for everyone. You loved to cook, especially Indonesian meals for large groups of friends and family.
You were always there for us, answering our questions whenever they popped up. Whether is was about sexual education, political matters or just the daily chores of growing from a happy child to a confused teenager and a grown up human being.

My memories go way back using the beautiful monochrome photos Dad took of our childhood.
To Zaandam where I was born, visiting your parents. Visiting Dad's mother and uncle in Steenwijk.
Long car drives during which I got car sick, a standard procedure. You held me and comforted me.
You and Dad taught me to read and write before I went to elementary school. You understood the importance of being honest about my first operation; the pain, the recovering.

Even more you understood my free spirit and my introversion. Yes, you and Dad set guidelines for a properly functioning household (called the 'traffic lights') but you explained why things were not allowed or better not to do. And thus allowed us to make mistakes in life.
You and Dad drew one line in the upbringing. Dad was often away for his work and you were capable of raising us almost on your own. Of course you discussed things with Dad but you supported each others decision for the one and only reason that they were made in our best interest with all the love you could give.

You confessed you did not sleep when I took the Ferry to the UK at the age of 17, determined to go on holiday all on my own. You told me this afterwards, in fore you were as enthusiastic (and nervous) as I was. You told me that Dad and you knew I was smart enough to know my limits. A trust in me I have never forgotten and which was so crucial for the rest of my life.

I remember our holidays together to the UK where you met my 'second' Mum and Dad, those wonderful Yorkshire people I met in Somerset and who became my other parents. Mum and you both answered when I said: 'Mama', you got on so well together.
These holidays with you Mama, are so precious. I fulfilled your dream and we both enjoyed every minute. Also a wonderful chance to get to know you better since I moved out of the house, being married.

You nursed Dad for 24 years after he got ill at the age of 43, a year in which you battled and survived Breast Cancer. You fought to stay alive and to live a normal as possible life. And never failed to spread care and love.

After both Dads died within a few years time, our bond got stronger. And how happy I was for you when you met an old friend and both fell in love.
And how much we needed each other when this friend died within a year and you were not able to laugh anymore. For a whole year I never saw your beautiful smile which you always kept in the past, no matter what happened. It hurt so much, Mama.

You were there for me when my marriage ended and I had to return home from Sweden. You offered me your love, arms and home. You listened, cried with me and helped me to get back on my feet.
You arranged the viewing of a rental home even before I was back in Holland and you were as happy as I was when I moved to the same village.

You cried for me when I was diagnosed with severe Breast Cancer and refused to cry myself.
You held me when I vomited my heart out during the chemo therapy. I slept in your arms when I was too tired to stand on my feet. You applaud when I refused to wear a wig and loved the shawls I made to cover my head.

Although your body grew old and tired, disabled, you offered me your automatic comfort chair after both my hip operations. You spoilt me with love, tea and healthy food. You finally was a mothering mother again now I was less stubborn and self supporting.

You looked after my wonderful dog when I found a job for which I had to travel within Europe.
We had long conversations via the mobile phone on my way to the airports, happy to share my trips and I was more than happy to share them with you.

Your health deteriorated and I became your part time carer. The rules changed, now I was the one who looked after you and found out of whom I inherited my stubbornness!
You refused to complain, always looked at the bright side. Sometimes taking the wrong decisions, ending in being rushed to the hospital.
I stayed with you whenever I could, holding your hand. But we always laughed, sharing the same sense of humour, able to see the sun shining behind every cloud.

Then came the day the alarm service called me, you had fallen in the living room.
Living so close to you I was there in a minute and knew instantly you had broken your hip in a very bad way. You did not cry, you did not complain although you were in so much pain.
The ambulance arrived quickly and the wonderful paramedics gave you morphine before they moved you. You held my hand, did not want to let go.

You accepted munch sooner than I that the broken hip was inoperable, also due to your heart condition. Medication kept the pain level low but you knew you were going to die. And you smiled, a broad calm smile. We both knew you longed for joining your Heavenly Father, I knew I was going to meet you again. But I cried.

I read somewhere 'A parent always dies too young' and this is true. You want to keep them with you for ever. In good health. But true love does not allow needles suffering and I told you it was alright to go.

I cried at the day of your funeral. I was not able to speak and loved my brother for doing that also for me, accompanied by the sound of heavy rainfalls on the church roof.
I cried when they lowered your coffin next to Dad but smiled when suddenly the sky opened and dazzling sunbeams shone right into your grave. I knew you were Home.

Life moved on. I remarried and became a widow. I moved house to built up a new life.
How much I like to talk to you, to ask you for advise, to enjoy my beautiful little house and the area together. To drink tea, to eat biscuits, to laugh and to love. To even argue with you. To embrace you.

I love you, Mama

Let's talk about ageing....

Whether you are young or whether you are old, each stage in life has it's advantages.
Personally I like getting older. Yes, yes, you might not at all agree, at least not now, maybe at the end of my story.

Your childhood is precious and passes too fast. Impatience is part of the growing up. Particularly when you enter puberty. That stage that you are 13 coming up 30.
Parents talk rubbish, are embarrassing, don't understand you, are old fashioned and above all, extremely meddlesome.
You never sigh so often and so deep as in your teenage life. Neither will you ever roll your eyes as often. After all 'been their, done that', you know it all much better as a modern child of old fashioned parents who - sigh slash eye roll - do not even take the effort to understand you.
Although you consider yourself being an adult, you can't wait to grow up even faster and the proverb 'youth is waisted on the young' isn't meaningful to you.

You rush with big steps into the real life of earning your own money and living in your own apartment or house.
Whilst you overthink this all being that hasty teenager, you completely forget that adult life comes with loads of responsibilities. From doing your own laundry to paying your bills and TAX. From 8 to 5 jobs or being self employed with much longer working hours, to being woken up by impatient children at unearthly hours. And everything in between of which you suddenly realize your parents did it all without you even knowing or caring about it.

Well.... welcome to the world of the grown ups!

My memories of my childhood are care free and full of love, laughter, warm long summers and winters full of ice and snow.
My memories of being a teenager are confusing, upset hormones, heartaches, misunderstandings. Besides love and shelter of course. The proverb  'too large for a serviette and too small for a table cloth' was very appropriate. The one minute I felt confident and the next minute totally unsure.

I could not wait growing up and leaving it all behind me.

I also disliked the institute 'school'. No, I was not stupid and perfectly capable of learning but as I just said, to me it was an institute that locks you up for most of the day. And during my youth, children still went to school on the Saturday mornings as did most people work on the Saturday mornings.
Maybe it has to do with  being an introvert. If I couldn't remember staring out of the windows instead of concentrating on my fellow students and teaching material, the remarks in my reports still tell me.
All I wanted is being somewhere on my own, not surrounded by other people.

I was brought up in a lovely family with one brother but many other young people flocking the house sharing meals and laughter. I liked it at times but also had a small space in the garden where I could hide to enjoy solitude.

It changed when I had a job I truly loved: being a receptionist/telephonist and regularly a hostess on exhibitions. Surrounded by hundreds of people but I loved it. This is where my self-confidence evaluated to normal standards.
And suddenly being the non-official-adopted foster daughter of a Yorkshire couple helped a lot too! Being part of the British way of life made me complete. But this is a different story...

We now arrive in our twenties, a steep learning curve towards our thirties and still it can not go fast enough. You still make mistakes (did I know by then that making mistakes is part of learning and learning is equal to developing and that is what you need to do until your very last breath), you hate making mistakes because you see yourself (finally) as the adult you should be.
Society is demanding, so is making a success of friendships, relationships, your job and last but not least your marriage.

Looking back, these twenties and thirties did not differ much: you have loads of energy to cope with all your plans and mental growth. You learn to cope with the responsibilities you definitely were not aware of in your teens. Loads of energy to make your life successful.

Then come the forties, not for everyone but yes, for me the life changing era.
The end of the marriage, the start of a totally different life with totally different expectations and opportunities. Challenges.
And although the divorce, Cancer and several operations, self employed, part time jobs elsewhere until an 80 hours per week job with travelling within Europe, I still had the necessary amount of energy to live a life like this.

This is also the stage in life you realize that being just you and being at ease with yourself, doing the right things in life and being honest, is the true base of your life. Nothing more and nothing less.
The opinion about me of people who passed by in my life, has never been of much importance to me. I was brought up with the intention to be a nice person and a personality, not the 'go with the flow' and not a 'part of a large group' person. And you will agree that 50 different people have 50 different opinions about you. You can not please them all, that is simply impossible, a waste of energy which can better be spend on those who are close to you with mutual respect.

It is in this stage of life you learn where your priorities are. Or even better: with whom. You have the energy to learn this and paying it attention. You are half way your life (technically spoken) and want it to be good with no worries about things you can not change. You learn to turn the unchangeable nasty things into good things. And slowly you grow towards your fifties......

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography

You might not realise it at first (fifty sounds old though, middle aged....) but this is the stage in life you can be just you. You will notice, whatever you do - being silly or seriously, dancing in the streets or jumping in pools getting soaked, or up to your knees in the mud during a refreshing walk - youngsters smile and think "That is a silly person but who cares, she/he is old anyway". Where the elderly people think "I wished I could still do that. And who cares, she/he is still young! Such a blessing!"
With this in mind, make the very best of this stage in your life! Live it to the full and stay responsible.

I am more than happy to say that this feeling is still appropriate at my current age, I can not speak for beyond early sixties. Though I do have lovely close friends beyond seventy who do not only share this view on life but who still 'dance in the street', who are energetic and active, who enjoy being who they are, being alive and kicking. Still discovering new challenges in life....

Ah.... life! It is still a party but it is yóú who has to put up the decorations!

Cheers!!!

Helen

Time....

Did you notice time flies?

Today it is 8 months ago that my dear husband passed away. Ever since, the concept 'time' changed completely. Sometimes it feels much longer than 8 months and sometimes it feels like yesterday with all the past months still ahead of me. At that very moment I feel the pain even more and with the knowledge of today, an uncertain future.

Don't take me wrong, I am not afraid to fight for my future. I am not afraid to be forced to look for an income, to find a job but sometimes it keeps me awake as, be honest, at 62 finding a job is not that easy.
But I have always been a fighter and that did not change. My glass has always been half full and that did not change either.
It is time, my dear readers, to list the good things that happened to me!

First of all against all odds, I published my first Dutch e-book (Observaties) in March. On the right side bar is listed where you can order it. I am happy to tell you e-book no. 2 is on its way.
It sells but only occasionally although the reviews of the readers are very positive! Still, I receive quite a few request to translate it to English and that is what I am working at (besides my novel). Stay tuned for more information!!

I created a Facebook page which is well visited, please take a look and follow me if you like : Helen Varras' Facebook Page
I also have a personal Facebook account, you are very welcome as my friend: Helen Varras

And there is my twitter account (the amount of followers keeps growing): Helen Varras on Twitter
Plus Instagram: Helen Varras on Instagram and Pinterest: Helen Varras on Pinterest
Last  but not least and very important, my LinkedIn account: Helen Varras LinkedIn where I listed being a (freelance)writer, author, editor, translator and blogger.

You are right now on my 'private' blog but as you will have noticed in the top bar, there is also a Dutch and an English Blog. The Dutch Blog is all about updates and short stories. The English Blog is an occasional update and more and more short stories and I love to tell you more about the English short stories.
I love Instagram, the beautiful photo's on there are a joy to watch. I also found some beautiful people on there with my private account. But what I also found are photographers of abandoned places. Search for #abandoned on Instagram and have a look yourself.

Three photographers however, touched not only my heart, but their photo's also inspired me to write stories. There is so much to view and without doubt, there are so many unknown and untold tales attached to each photo!
I asked them if I was allowed to use some of their photo's to write a pure fictional story to it. And to my great joy and thankfulness, they said yes. Of course at the bottom of each story is a 'word of thanks' and a link to either the Instagram account or their websites and please, visit them.
To my astonishment I receive far more feedback to my English stories than my Dutch. Yes, I understand very well that English is a worldwide language, hence my translation of my first e-book.
Isn't it beautiful to be able to grow worldwide? To me it is a blessing.
But there is also a message to you: if you like my stories, or you want stories to illustrate your drawings or photo's, please contact me and let us discuss the possibilities.
Or if you have written stories in English, Swedish and German and you want me to translate them to Dutch (or from Dutch to English) you are of course also very welcome!

Besides all this I am hoping for people to get to know Helen Varras a little better. I want people to know that writing is my passion. I love it!! Stories evolve in my head during the day (or even in my dreams) and I think of it as a huge miracle to put these thoughts into words and into stories; short stories or a book.
I reserve my mornings for daily routine duties in the house and the garden and the afternoons and if I can't stop writing, the evenings for writing. And of course I can not resist participating in writing contests.
To my great joy I was one of the winners of a contest! I sent two stories and both stories will be published in a book (read more about it here) And not only that, one story ended at the 2nd place!!
Wow, I was (and still are) over the moon!! This is so encouraging, a confirmation that I have chosen the right new direction in my life. Still a long way to go and lots and lots to learn but this is something I can only look forward to!

This was on the writing side. Personally I am surrounded by wonderful people, most are my own friends but I also inherited some beautiful friends from my late husband. Everyone of these 'mixed' friends really care, are not afraid to talk to 'a widow', they are people who openly talk about happiness and sadness. Who love, laugh and cry with me. Who listen and who hug. Who send me flowers or little present. But above all, who encourage me to write, write and write.
How can I fear a future when surrounded by so many honest people? I don't! I am blessed and are well aware of it.

Thank you beautiful people!!! Sending you lots of love.

Helen