A reminder of mortality

This past month has been one of the most challenging periods of my life. It began with the loss of my beloved father on September 20th. Although his passing was both a shock and not entirely unexpected, he had battled prostate cancer for over 20 years, or since just before I started my postgraduate studies. My parents had hoped he would make it to their next wedding anniversary in November, and I dreamed of having him at my inauguration as an adjunct professor at the Royal Institute of Technology in April next year.

A few days later, I was notified that our unit at Northvolt, including my position, will be terminated as part of a restructuring effort to secure future funding for the company. Perhaps the best person to deliver such news to, is the one who is already grieving. I love my job! My colleagues, managers, and collaborators all agree that we have much more to accomplish. When you’re mourning the loss of a loved one, there isn’t much room left to process the additional loss of your job.

Being reminded of our mortality helps us make impactful decisions for the future. What truly matters to me? What are my passions and values? What should my next steps be? Additionally, losing a loved one after 45 years prompts reflection on how their life can influence my future actions. For the first time, I’m am not finding a new job before leaving the old one; another reminder that everything we care about can end. This presents an opportunity to create the life I truly desire.

Having transitioned my responsibilities at Northvolt, I am now embarking on a new chapter in my life. I need some time to reflect on my future aspirations and the cherished memories and conversations with my father. I will return here on upcoming Mondays to share my thoughts on potential areas of focus. I am deeply passionate about developing educational journeys for post-graduate students, equipping them with the skills needed to excel as industrial scientists. I will remain active at the intersection of industry and academia, and I am aiming to support the transformation of businesses into circular, symbiosis industrial ecosystems. From my father, I have learned to be open and listen to everyone, to be a mentor, to maintain an optimistic mindset, and to find new ways around obstacles if they can’t be overcome directly. Most importantly, I will strive to live my values and passion every day, just as my father did what he loved until the very end. I am so thankful for the heroes that gave us 20 years after his first diagnose, and will continue to support cancer research going forward.


4 responses to “October 20th – one month after the worst day in my life”

  1. Robert Strand avatar
    Robert Strand

    Lovely and weighty offerings, Martin. My heart is heavy for you.

  2. Maria avatar

    Martin, I feel for your loss and admire your writing and mindset. We all come to junctures in our life at one time or another and you are doing what needs to be done: Reflecting on what truly matters.

    It’s not always easy to figure that out. When we are going flat out there is no need to reflect in the same manner, meaning and matter don’t need to be assessed. We have a task, we have a purpose, but regardless of task we exist and are capable, we have meaning.

    I hope you can allow yourself to take the time you need to rest, reflect and heal before taking on the world again 😌

  3. Zari avatar
    Zari

    Martin, I found a sense of freedom in your writing and truly enjoyed your reflections. Even in the parts left unsaid, the photo seemed to speak directly to the reader. Your strength and positivity are truly inspiring to your readers. Keep sharing your unique perspective—it has a lasting impact.

  4. Jenny Hagström avatar
    Jenny Hagström

    Thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings Martin. 💔 You are a role model in so many ways. 🌟

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