I am sad.
My grief comes in waves. Maybe yours would be constant. We are all different, and for me it can be love one moment and anger the next. Longing, relief, questions and memories can exist side by side. Coexistence is a strange thing.
I was to celebrate my sons' first day at school, where they had asked for layer cake and lemonade, a few hours after I had been at the cemetery to find a suitable grave for my mother. I was oddly flat and tired that evening. And you have to allow yourself to be that too.
My mother is part of my roots. She is part of the place I come from, of what I was given, and of who I have become. I am grateful for that.
With her death she is no longer someone I can reach out for. But she has become a growth ring in my tree. A year when something changed.
I have not lost the story of my mother. She is still part of my Life Tree. What has changed is her place in my life.
That is why I look after the stories. And that is why I have made Livspor: a portrait for life, for always. Because we live the stories, and the stories live on in us.
That is why Livspor exists
I knew my mother.
And still, after her death, I found out that I never got the whole story.
There are things I do not know. Things I never asked about. Recipes that were never shared. Photographs we never wrote a story onto.
When a person is gone, their life story disappears with them, unless someone has written it down. The dreams. The experiences. What was the essence of their life.
That is why I am building Livspor.
So that others can preserve the story of the people they love while there is still time. Not just an ordinary life portrait, but one built around the Life Tree.