That one time my parents and I went to Westworld (warning – not photography related)

That one time my parents I went to Westworld…

actually we never really went. A shame. Really, but I found this awesome Photo we took at an Amusement Park here close to Cologne.

Anyway… I am sitting here on a plane flying back from LaLaLand. I came here to get out of everything that went down in the past 10 to 11 month. Clear my mind and just, hopefully get a reset… I think I kinda succeeded.

Not sure how to get into this without going on a long and unneccesary journey, but lets try. Beginning of March 2017 I got the news of my mom being very sick and being take to the hospital. I was on a job in Spain at the time and thankfully my clients were just the most understanding, human and wonderful people and I made my journey home to see what was happening.

In short we found out that my mom had a quite far “developed” Lymphoma and with her being 79 years old, the outlook was not very good. A very strenuous process and change of pace happened. From hospital to hospital, from doctor to doctor and so on. First we needed to find out what was happening in detail, which took long enough. After that the therapy and all that started and took its toll on, of course my mother, but also my father.

It is weird how life goes, people are strange, as the Doors very sharply already stated, and families can be strange too. I never gave too much importance to the institution that is family, as with friendship and anyone else in life I think people need to be good people, kind, supporting etc. If not I don’t care if we are genetically or else connected. My Dad and I, as long as I can remember, have had a difficult relationship. Loving (most of the time), but difficult. Bumping heads, not giving in etc etc. And my dad, being an older iranian gentleman, was socialized in a certain way and besides the fact of being in Germany for over 50 years the generational influences where there. All that led to him not telling anyone how bad he was feeling and how sick he actually also was. I am not even sure he 100% knew.

In the night of August 3rd to August 4th he passed away after about two weeks of fighting and not really having a chance. At least without feeling any pain, in his sleep. All that after collapsing at home while also taking care of my mom. I didn’t know… and it pains me more than I could have ever imagined, as there is a part of me that thinks that I could have done more… or anything.

I am sitting here in my seat with tears running down my cheeks, the flight attendant looking at me a bit confused and I actually have to switch to some silly music or I feel this will end in not only wet cheeks, but little pool of tears under my seat.

It also feels very weird writing about this and knowing that I will publish all this on my Blog. I am not looking for sympathy, really, but I feel this needs to get out. Sorry if this is all a bunch of emotional self-therapy stuff.

Going back a little, it is important to note that my mom started to show signs of dementia over the course of the past year and sometimes had some very strong reactions to her medication that amplified her state.

So when my Dad died, an even stranger time started. First… I needed to tell my Mom of my Dads passing. And, I think, I tried to prepare her in those two weeks as good as I could, but even if you do not forget a lot of things, it already is very difficult to cope with something like that. My parents weren’t on very good terms when my Mom was diagnosed. For a long long time actually. Their marrigage was also not very easy I think, but they always had a good life and they stayed together after all. And when all this shit started they found back to eachother somehow. At least a little bit. Damn. I think I only saw my Dad cry infront of me twice. Once when his father died and once when my Mom was in the hospital last year. He was really worried. And when I told my mom about my Dad her reaction was a lot stronger than I would have though.

The problem for me was… we needed to go through it a bunch of times. I do not know how often, but having to tell her and seeing her heart break again and again was one of the most painful things in my life. Unfortunately. As painful as the memory of my Dads last days in the hospital. There is not much left that can ever pain me more than those things I think. Physically or mentally.

I remember being so fed up with my dad just a couple of month ago, as he could get under your skin so well and it feels so cliché to say this, but we take shit way too serious in our lifes and we waste so much of our precious time with bullshitting each other. And on bullshit people who do not deserve our attention. Love each other, be kind to each other and if it doesn’t work, just don’t come near each other. That is always a possibility, but don’t waste time either way.

Well… now three weeks ago my Mom passed away. Not super sudden, but unexpectedly fast nonetheless. I was with her from March until, I think, October nearly every day, after that as much as I could. I am very lucky to have had that possibility. And I am very happy to have been able to get her the care she needed in the end. I had a couple of people looking at me funny when I talked about putting my mom in a care facility, but I know it was the right decision. And the people there were so kind and wonderful with her, that it really felt right.

She had gotten better and the Lymphoma was gone and she seemed to regain some of her strength and all that. For a while at least. Around Christmas things did not look good and in the end I really think that she also had given up. That probably sounds more negative than it should, but I am not sure how to say it differently. I was always very close with my mother. I just hope that she felt taken care of through all this. I just feel sad for my parents as I wished their last years could have been happier ones and through all these month and month of pain and hospitals and just all around bad shit going down I would have hoped for… well… hope.

As for me, I am just so very thankful for the time I had with them… the good and the bad.

And now, as all of this has happened and I am trying to cope and work through all of it, I can’t tell you how much love and support I have gotten all around. Starting with my wonderful girlfriend of soon 12 years, Alex, who really was my rock and my anchor through all this. And I feel bad as I have turned inward quite a bit in the past weeks and month, as this is how I cope with shit, I guess, and I don’t want you to feel bad because of me. Thank you!

Besides Alex though I am astonished, shocked and full of love for all of my friends who have supported me so very very much. Old friends and new friends alike. How you listened to me over and over again, how you offered absolutely any kind of help possible no matter the distance, time or other obstacle. Honestly, and I am missing the right words here, I am forever grateful and thankful for all eternity for all your support you wonderful wonderful people gave and still give me. You know who you are and I love you all!

I raise my glass to love, friendship and peace (in any possible variation), cheers.

One last thing I need say, it is weird how the realisation settles that you will not hear someones voice ever again. Never feel their touch again and never be able to tell them anything anymore. Really weird. Espescially if it’s the people you the longest in your life.

This Instax from a while ago is the last photo I have of my parents together and through this painful journey I did not take many photos. I was a bit torn if or if not, but in the end I hope it is for the better.

Be kind, do good and I will talk to you soon.
Teymur.

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