The loss of a loved one is a painful and difficult experience. My brother died two years ago from bladder cancer. The emotions I experience are often very variable. Sometimes I am sad and want to Wh’app him something, other times I am angry to be left alone as the only child and sometimes I am confused because the difference between life and death is difficult to grasp.
When we made those trips to the Antonie van Leeuwenhoek Hospital in Amsterdam about two years ago, these were also the weather conditions. The association with this weather sometimes makes me incredibly nostalgic and also melancholic, at times even melancholic. Sometimes it’s so bad that I have a hard time digesting his absence. Let alone what this means for my mother.
At his farewell he preferred white flowers. The color white has since taken on a special meaning for me. Sometimes I’m walking and suddenly a white feather flutters down in front of me. And even though I don’t really believe in the afterlife, it sure looks like he’s giving me a sign of life. From elsewhere. From his soul life. Or anywhere.
That always brings out that one single tear in me. Then I would like to meet him again and chat with him, as usual. But unfortunately it doesn’t work that way.
Often enough, I think that his death has lasted long enough and that he can return to earth. Just the way it once was. And that’s what I tell him.
In any case, that white feather always gives me enough strength and support to get through it again. For as long as that lasts, because this will probably always remain a great loss. Just like he was always my great big brother.
