Twelve years ago a photo was taken of you while on vacation. A flying seagull appeared above your head.
You died two years later. Exactly today, now 8 years ago. We chose – not thinking about this photo – a flying seagull on the funeral card. Only later did this ‘coincidence’ strike us. It was such a moment that it gives you shivers. Anyway.
Whenever I have a hard time, a seagull invariably appears in my view. He sits on the fence of my balcony. Or flies away.
I had so resolved not to give up on this day, but to celebrate your life with all gratitude. That went surprisingly well. Spending the day with mothers, preparing and eating a feast. And everyone who wants to be there is welcome, although that is actually not possible during these Corona times.
I lock the people who sympathize by sending a short message in a secret box forever, and keep the key to it deep in my heart.
It was going so well until I went home an hour ago.
I bent over. And put my key in the lock of that bicycle lock and a very small feather stuck to it. Result: a lump in my throat, and tears of loss that I could no longer suppress.
I still miss you every day. As a father, as a person and as a trusted soul.
Even if you do – my dear – do your best to let me know you’re still with me somewhere.
