Preface This post is about the late summer slowly approaching, about motorhome life, and about carrying both joy and longing at the same time. It’s about missing grandchildren, about living with distance in the family – and about love that remains even when paths separate.
When Summer Begins to Fade
Here I am again, in our motorhome. I write as I usually do, but the feeling is different now. It’s no longer the sparkling energy of spring. Summer is beginning to retreat, even if I don’t want to admit it. The truth is: we are closer to autumn than to the full bloom of summer.
Autumn can be beautiful in its own way, but I miss those warm evenings that invite quiet joy. Still, summer is not over yet. There are days left to live, and I remind myself not to give up on them too soon.
An Unexpected Visit and a Quiet Thought
We will stay here at the campsite for another day. Today I learned that my husband’s brother will visit – a little surprise. It will be nice to meet him.
Yet, other thoughts swirl quietly in the background.
On Instagram, I saw photos of my grandchildren, happy and full of life. I smiled seeing them laugh, yet my heart felt a small ache. These are the moments I long to share – but for now, I am a grandmother at a distance.
Sometimes it feels as if the world keeps moving without me. Life doesn’t always turn out as we wish, but the longing is still there. Hugo has grown taller, Emilia looks ready to conquer the world, and Alfred I sometimes get to hold close when life allows it.
What carries me is love – it remains, even when I must love from afar.
A Mother’s Love Never Ends
There is nothing I can do to change the situation right now. All I can do is keep wishing them happiness.
My greatest hope is not for life to go back to the way it was, but for everyone to be well. I hope my son has a life where he can breathe, laugh, and feel that he chose what was best for him and his children.
I am his mother, and I love him more than words can hold. That love remains, no matter the distance.
Between the Lines – My Voice
Between the lines, I want to say this:
I am a mother and grandmother carrying both pain and love in the same breath. I do not shy away from what hurts, but I do not write out of bitterness. I write to understand, to remain standing, and to keep loving.
And perhaps I also write for you who recognize yourself in these words. We are more than one carrying this quiet sorrow. We carry it together – even if we carry it apart.
Reflection
Sometimes, life is about daring to stand in love, even when it is not returned. I cannot control other people’s choices, but I can choose to keep loving my grandchildren – quietly, from the heart, at a distance. And maybe, that is enough until the day our paths meet again.
Grief follows no rules. There is no manual for how to handle being cut off . But it is possible to keep loving, even when the relationship is broken. To stand in love, even when you get nothing in return. It’s possible to love – even when love becomes a one-way street.
”Yesterday has already laid itself to rest in history. Tomorrow waits ahead. But right now – this is where life is happening.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson
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Today’s post will be a short one. It’s a travel day. We’re leaving at 8:00 AM – and I’m far from ready. First, I need to conquer the mountain of laundry waiting to be folded.
A Day in Mourning – with Ozzy in the Speakers
Yesterday didn’t go as planned. The laundry that was supposed to be folded stayed in a heap – a quiet reminder of what never got done. It turned into a strange kind of day. A day of sorrow, with Ozzy Osbourne’s voice filling both my speakers and my heart. I wrote a blog post, just like I always do – and of course, it was about Ozzy. Read my Ozzy tribute post here
Tight Pants On – IKEA and Elgiganten Adventures
After writing, we headed to Uddevalla to do some shopping. For some reason, I ended up in my tight pants – it was that kind of trip. First stop: IKEA. We bought new drinking glasses, a frying pan, and three lovely jars from the Gladerlig series – the same series our plates are from.
Next stop: Elgiganten, where we made one of the best purchases in a long time – a countertop ice machine! Now we can pamper ourselves with ice cubes in the heat, whether we’re at home or on the road in our motorhome.
Swimming, Pancakes and Packing
Groceries done, we headed home. My husband cooked while I took the kids to the lake for a swim. When we came back, he had prepared pancake batter, so I got busy frying. The pancakes are coming with us today.
Borås Zoo and Hanatorp – and Then We’ll See
Today, we’re off to Borås Zoo to spend the day with our daughter and her family. After the zoo, we’ll stay overnight at the nearby campsite. Tomorrow, we’ll head to Hanatorp to visit my cousin. After that – who knows? We’ll let the road guide us.
But First – the Laundry…
Now I really need to get going. The laundry pile won’t fold itself, and we’re supposed to leave soon. No long post today – life is calling.
Yesterday rested in sorrow – but today, life keeps rolling on.
What about you?
Do you also have days where grief sneaks in – even among the most ordinary moments? How do you shift from heavy to light? From mourning to movement?
Reflection
Grief and everyday life dance together in this post – laundry and loss, pancakes and memories. Sometimes the writing is the breathing space between it all. That’s where I land. In the now. In both softness and strength.
Yesterday has already laid itself to rest in history. Tomorrow is waiting in the distance. But right now – this is where life happens. And the laundry won’t wait. -Carina Ikonen Nilsson
I didn’t expect it to feel like this. But it does. Ozzy Osbourne is dead. And something inside me has gone quiet. Something that always used to scream.
I don’t know what to write. I just know it hurts. Ozzy Osbourne is dead.
It’s strange… I didn’t actually believe he’d live forever – and still, somehow, I did. He was always there. In the background. In my headphones. In the soundtrack of my life.
That voice that cut through everything. That carried pain, power, madness. He was never just music – he was emotion, force, defiance.
And now it’s quiet. But not really.
Because Ozzy isn’t someone you forget. He’s screamed himself into my heart – and there he stays.
I grieve him as if he were mine. Maybe he was. A part of my youth. A part of me.
I managed to write a tribute while he was still alive. Now I’m writing the other one. The one that hurts.
“You can’t kill rock ’n’ roll – it’s here to stay.” – Ozzy Osbourne
– What does Ozzy mean to you?
Did you listen to him when no one else understood?
What does his voice stir in you?
Do you remember the first time you heard “Crazy Train” or “Mama, I’m Coming Home”?
This isn’t just a farewell to an artist. It’s a farewell to a piece of myself – the younger version who lived with Ozzy in their ears, who carried rage, longing, sorrow, and fire. And at the same time, a quiet promise: never to forget.
This day took a legend with it. Tomorrow will echo without his voice. But right now – in the silence after the last note – the memory still plays. Right now is what matters. -Carina Ikonen Nilsson
”Jag vet inte om du har en sån plats – en som en gång gav dig ro, men som nu bär på andra känslor. Själv sitter jag här på altanen och låter tankarna vandra just dit…”
Det här skrev jag igår, i värmen under altantaket. När du läser det sitter jag nog vid sjön där det är simskola. Kanske med en kopp kaffe i handen, kanske i samtal med en liten kille som sakta men säkert närmar sig vattnet. Små steg, med tillit. Både för honom – och för mig.
Att lära sig simma – och våga närma sig
Idag fick jag följa med grannens pojke till simskolan. Han har inte riktigt lärt sig simma än, och har lite svårt att komma i vattnet. Men simkunnighet är så viktigt. Inte för att bli duktig – men för att kunna ta sig till land om något skulle hända. För mig är det en av de mest grundläggande kunskaperna man kan få.
Vi bestämde att ta med lite fika och stanna kvar en stund efteråt. Visa att sjön kan vara något positivt. Lek, skratt, nyfikenhet. Kanske blir det bara fötterna i vattnet idag. Kanske lite hundsim imorgon. Vi tar det i små steg. Det är så man lär sig – både barn och vuxna.
En annan sjö, en annan känsla
Men samtidigt – jag badade inte idag. Inte i min egen sjö. Den där platsen som är min. Där jag brukar andas, vila, känna mig hemma. Jag valde bort den.
Det var inte av feghet. Inte ens av sorg – även om det gjorde ont. Jag valde det av respekt.
Respekt för min son, om han skulle vara där. För barnbarnen – för att de inte skulle behöva känna något konstigt, något svårförklarligt. Jag ville inte vara den som störde stillheten. Inte idag.
Det var mitt sätt att visa omtanke – på avstånd. Men det innebar också att jag avstod från något som ger mig kraft. Och jag saknade det.
När minnen färgar en plats
Det är märkligt hur platser kan förvandlas. Inte för att de fysiskt förändras – men för att våra känslor gör det. Från trygghet till vaksamhet. Från frihet till försiktighet.
Den där sjön är min plats. Men idag fick den stå tom – av hänsyn. Och kanske av rädsla också. Rädsla för att riva upp något. För att bli en känsla i någon annans dag som inte är välkommen.
Att ta tillbaka något – varsamt
Men jag vill tillbaka. Inte genom konfrontation. Utan genom stillhet. Genom att bara vara där, igen. I min takt.
Kanske i gryningen. Kanske en annan dag. Med fötterna i vattnet och hjärtat lite närmare mig själv.
Hemma, i långsam rörelse
Under dagen hemma hängde jag tvätt i solen. Kände vinden mot huden. Lyssnade på tystnaden mellan maskinerna. Rensade lite ogräs i slänten – men bara så mycket som kroppen orkade.
Och vet du vad? Jag sa till mig själv: Nu räcker det. Det som blev gjort var tillräckligt. Det var vackert. Resten tar jag en annan dag.
Det är något nytt. Och kanske också något jag lär mig – precis som lillpojken i sjön kanske gör.
Reflektion:
Att välja bort något för att skydda någon annan är också kärlek. Men glöm inte dig själv. Det du längtar efter förtjänar också plats. Det går att visa hänsyn – och ändå sakta hitta tillbaka till det som ger dig kraft
Fråga till dig som läser:
Har du någon plats som förändrats för dig – en gång trygg, nu osäker? Hur gör du för att ta tillbaka den? Och hur vet du när det är dags att försöka?
Carina Ikonen Nilsson
Citat att ta med dig:
”Lev idag – just nu. Igår vilar i historien och morgondagen väntar där borta i framtiden. Det är nuet som räknas.”
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”I don’t know if you have a place like that – one that once brought you peace but now carries something heavier. I’m sitting here on the patio, letting my thoughts drift in that direction…”
I wrote this yesterday, sitting beneath the roof of the patio while the sun warmed the air around me. As you’re reading this, I’m likely by the lake where swimming lessons are held. Perhaps with a cup of coffee in hand, watching a little boy slowly approach the water. Step by step. With trust. For him – and for me.
Learning to Swim – and to Approach Gently
Today I had the opportunity to join the neighbor’s little boy for his swimming lesson. He hasn’t quite learned how to swim yet, and he’s a bit hesitant about getting into the water. But swimming skills are essential. Not about being great at it – but about being able to reach the shore or a pier if you fall in. For me, it’s one of the most fundamental life skills.
We packed a small picnic and decided to stay a while after the lesson. The idea was to show him that the lake can also be a place of joy. Of play, laughter, curiosity. Maybe today will only be about getting his feet wet. Maybe tomorrow we’ll try dog paddling. Step by step – that’s how learning happens. For children. For adults.
Another Lake, a Different Feeling
At the same time, I chose not to swim in my lake today. The one that usually brings me calm, breath, stillness. I stayed away.
And not out of fear. Not even just sorrow – though yes, it hurt.
I made that choice out of respect. Respect for my son, in case he was there. For my grandchildren – so they wouldn’t feel something strange or awkward. I didn’t want to stir anything up. Not today.
It was my quiet way of caring – from a distance.
But it also meant stepping away from something that gives me strength. And yes, I missed it.
When Memories Color a Place
It’s strange how places can change. Not physically – but emotionally. A place of safety becomes a place of caution. A place of freedom becomes a place of hesitation.
That lake is still mine. But today, I left it untouched – out of consideration. Maybe even fear. Fear of becoming a feeling in someone else’s day who didn’t want me there.
Reclaiming Gently, Not Forcefully
But I want to return. Not through confrontation. But through presence. By simply being there again – in my own time.
Maybe at dawn. Maybe on another day. With my feet in the water and my heart a little closer to myself.
At Home, In Slower Motion
Back home, I hung laundry in the sun. Felt the wind on my skin. Listened to the stillness between washing machine cycles. I weeded a little in the slope by the house – just as much as my back allowed.
And you know what? I told myself: That’s enough for today. What I managed to do was beautiful. The rest can wait.
That’s new for me. And maybe something I’m learning – just like the little boy at the lake.
Reflection
Choosing to step back to protect someone else is also love. But don’t forget yourself. The things you long for deserve space too. It’s possible to show respect – and still gently return to what gives you life.
Question for You, Dear Reader:
Do you have a place that once felt safe – but now feels uncertain? How do you reclaim it? And how do you know when it’s time?
Quote to Carry With You
Carina Ikonen Nilsson
”Live today, right now. Yesterday rests in history, and tomorrow waits out there in the distance. Right now is what matters.”
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