"a most horrible thing has happened."

Those were the words I heard as I phoned Norway to get an address for sending flowers to the Nordic Goddess, and to find out if I could get a phone number to call her.

I awakened her hubby, who had I guess only just got to sleep after being told that our Goddess had left us. The hospice phoned him at 2:am Norwegian time Friday morning to let him know that my dear, dear friend, confidant, most gracious woman I think I have ever known, had died.

With shoulder shaking sobs, I only managed to get out the words, "I'm sorry; I'm so, so, sorry."

Indicating I would phone him in a few days, I hung up the phone and nearly collapsed, my crying came from such a deep place in my heart. Grief has never quite taken me over like this. My body wanted to stop functioning.

She had been in hospice for not quite three weeks due to digestive complications. During the last week, she had been intubated for nourishment, and had been fitted with a morphine pump to control her pain. My hope is that she was asleep when she passed from the only life we know.

Since this blog is about me, I will self-centeredly write my reaction. I can only hope it is somewhat cathartic. My heart feels as if it weighs as much as an anvil. I can hardly walk. I spent a sleepless Thursday night, finally getting out of bed at around 5:30 am Friday with the worst migraine I have had in many, many years. The weight spread to my belly, and I cried even more. I could barely move all day long.

My very dear husband luckily (or not) had the day off from work since it was Good Friday (nothing good about it in my book). He took care of everything around our home all day because I was virtually unable to move except to read emails and make the written announcement to my other virtual sisters, the December Moms.

We expected company that night (last night) and I wanted to call everything off, but I knew my daughters looked forward to having friends over and watching the newest movie together. I could hardly give my guests any attention, I was so distracted. I often snuck into the pc room to quickly check my email to read responses, share feelings, grieve with my other sisters.

This morning, I groggily joined my first-person friend and her daughter, along with two Girl Scouts in visiting the Music Museum. It was enjoyable, and the girls had a great time talking about boys, boyfriends, "losers," "stupid" people, other important teenage issues. It was nice to have this kind of distraction for awhile.

Often, though, I saw things that brought me back to my reality. I thought of how I would never see my good friend again. How selfish of me it was to feel this way. How much worse it is for her eight-year old son and her husband, losing the most important woman in their lives.

I cannot believe she is gone. I am so deeply sad, as well as bitter that with so many evil people in this earth who actually deserve to get a disease as horrible as this, one who was good and embracing to everyone she met was the one to get it and leave us.

Don't even try to tell me she "was a flower in the garden of God, and he wanted the best flowers for his dinner table." That little statement stuck with me (not in a good way) when a minister made it at a funeral of a 19-year old motorbiker. His bike had wrapped itself around a light pole sending him flying in the air to land on his head and die. What bullshit that minister's statement was to me.

I have no idea when the Goddess' funeral/memorial service will be, or if there will be one. I want so much to do something to honor her life, her memory. I want to do something for Kidlet so that he knows at least partially how much his mother was loved and respected, and how deeply she affected the lives she touched. I'd like him to know that around the world, there are at least 65 mothers who love him very much, and that he can turn to anytime he might want some motherly advice, and that not one of us would even think of attempting to replace her. Right this moment, these noble ideas seem empty.

Calling her a Goddess now seems tantamount to worship. I know, she wasn't a real goddess, but if the Greeks or the Romans had met her, I'm sure they would have deified her.

I've written about the "Five G's" and how I wish to instill them into my daughters' beings, and that the Nordic Goddess embodied them. She did, she really did, and I have often used her as an example to my oldest daughter. I can only hope that my daughter remembers how gracious, good, gentle, generous, and grateful the Goddess was and live by these values herself.

To her husband, I hope and wish for the courage to carry on and keep her spirit alive within his heart, and help his son get through this grevious tragedy. To her son, I hope and wish for courage and wisdom, as well as strength to grow up into a young man that would fill his mother with pride.

She glowed with pride everytime she looked at him. Pride and love. Everytime she mentioned him in conversation, it was with deep happiness and great love. I think he knows this; I hope her friends, family and her husband can help him to absorb this love and keep her alive in his heart through all of his good memories of her.

In conclusion, I want to link to a couple of other web logs that I know have paid tribute to her. These logs state so eloquently what I feel.

verbatim

gemmak

and one more, the last entry to my very dear friend's log: graybar

Good bye, my sweet friend. Perhaps you were just too good for this earth.