On Wednesday the 8th of July my mother Chrysanthi passed away, just a couple of months before her 66th birthday.
My mother was the kindest, sweetest soul. She was just like a little bird. She loved children, all children, pure and innocent like herself and she loved dancing and singing. Since her diagnosis with Parkinson's disease 4 years ago, I devoted myself into helping her with homeopathy to heal from within. It became my mission.
I knew the conventional treatment she was on would not cure or resolve anything and I knew that healing lied within her. We had to tap into that.
Since day one of her diagnosis, I booked an appointment with a homeopath in Greece for her to have a consultation, then I decided to start treating her myself, but that was way too hard for me, as I was too emotionally involved to be able to be completely unbiased. Shortly after, I decided that I would ask a dear friend and an excellent homeopath Katja Behrens to take on her case. Katja tried for 2 years. Month in, month out, we would have a consultation and another follow up. There was so much potential through homeopathy and yet we experienced so much disappointment every time the treatment wouldn't work, as my mum was not responding to it. Katja was lovingly supporting me through this process as well. After a while, she suggested that I consulted someone else to get a second opinion, so I turned into my dear friend and inspired teacher Geoff Johnson. Geoff tried yet for another 2 years, we were having long discussions on Skype trying to see what we have missed, discussing the case together, again and again as my input as a translator and a daughter was very essential. We were both trying so hard to make this work.
I would get so excited when Geoff would come up with another brilliant idea, another treatment plan, another remedy, which would be followed by yet another disappointment in the next month's follow up. We discussed the idea of the incurable case, but for some reason I didn't want to give up. I knew that homeopathy had the answers, there was nothing else that could help her. For that I was convinced. Mum would progressively get worse and worse and I would still not let go. Another remedy to study, another search through the big books, another remedy to order from the pharmacy, another seminar to attend trying to find the answers, trying to understand what I have missed. I must have missed something, I can't let go.
A few weeks back I booked another appointment with Dinesh Chauhan from India, another brilliant and inspired homeopath. It would be my last attempt to help heal my crumbling mother. Dinesh was caring and gentle to her, my mum could barely say a few words anymore. She wanted to be around the children and she wanted to dance and sing again. Those were the only few words she used. She wanted to see her friends in the monastery, the ones with the pure heart; like her's.
She was prescribed another remedy. I said to myself that I am going to let go now. This would be the last time. A few days later, after having her physiotherapy session, I spoke to her through a video call for the last time before she started departing from this realm. She mumbled my name. In the morning, when I called to speak to her, she was gone.
A few days before my mother died I attended an inspired seminar by Annette Sneevliet, where she talked about her struggles with difficult cases. She said that it is not our job to make it all work, there are some things that we cannot control and we have to accept and let go. It is the patient's choice and it is them who decide when and how they want and need to be healed and how everyone chooses their own path in health and life. We are just there, witnessing their pain and their healing, always doing our best as homeopaths and as human beings, to guide them through their path. I felt really emotional hearing her talk about this, as I realised that for the last 4 years, healing my mother had become my mission and it had overwhelmed me. I silently wept at the other side of my screen and felt peace within. I had to let go. 3 days later my mother passed away.
Treating my mother as a homeopath and as a daughter, was probably one of the hardest things I had to do. It was a heart wrenching experience. I don't regret a single moment of it though. It gave me so much wisdom and so much insight, I faced my ego and it was crashed, I faced my failures, my anguish, and my pain. I tried to push it away, tried to make it go, because it was too hard and gut wrenching, but I managed to stay with it and acknowledge it. I went through times where I was desperate, I became angry at homeopathy and even envious at my lovely patients, who were getting better after my treatments. I would watch myself feel the despair. I found myself getting irritated when I would watch a seminar and a teacher would present an impossible case, cured with homeopathy. I was angry.
I could help so many people but could not help my own mother. Then I let go. And then she let go.
My mother taught me to fight when I need to and then let go when I have to. It was a great lesson and I thank her for that. She taught me to be compassionate, caring and charitable and stand by the less fortunate and the weak, to always try my best to help them with all means I got. I chose homeopathy for that and I feel blessed that I have.
I don't know if I will ever write big, important books about homeopathy, or if I will be able to inspire others with my work like my brilliant teachers do, but I know that I will not give up on the sick and hopefully will have the wisdom to let go when I need to.
During her funeral yesterday, two baby swallows came into the church on the central dome and were happily chirping above her. She was there with us, happy, light and free. Her crumbling body has gone back into the soil but her bright spirit has been released into the light for ever. She is light and free as a baby bird. Fly away little swallow, you have been at last released forever.
