Na het overlijden van Kenric zocht ik een uitweg voor de woorden die ik niet uitgesproken kreeg. Daarom nam ik deel aan een internationale schrijverscursus rond rouw en verdriet. Veel van de teksten die ik in die periode schreef zijn voorlopig enkel voor eigen reflectie, maar hieronder toch eentje die veel mensen lijkt aan te spreken. Op verzoek deel ik deze dan ook graag met jullie…
My grief… he is that extremely handsome, quiet, mysterious man that captivates me every time I catch a glimpse of him. He is always there, but almost never in the foreground. I see him when I’m having lunch in the far end of the restaurant, always calm, patient. Mesmerizing with his clear blue eyes that seem to stare right through me. Sharply dressed, intelligent looking and above all fast and persistent. When I try to talk to him he disappears in a split second, but when I try to ignore him I can feel his eyes burning.
He looks sad, like he’s experienced his own deal of grief… it has made him hard and fierce, I can tell. But I can also notice that he has not always been like this. His eyes reflect the blue sea and the sun, they hold a promise of what I want, what I long for. I know he would give it to me if he could, but he can’t, so he keeps his distance. Maybe he just wants me to see it, give me a promise of what might be possible in the next chapter. I hate him, but I also love him.
I know he can be dangerous, maybe I shouldn’t trust him. Sometimes he pops up in the back seat of the car while I’m driving, clinches his arm around my neck, making it hard to breathe. When he does that it takes all I have to control my panic. He is strong, shaking him is impossible. The only option he leaves me is to wait until he decides to loosen his grip and allows me to breathe normal again. He is always with me, I have tried numerous times to shake him but I couldn’t… sometimes he whispers something I can hardly understand, tells me he protects me in the only way he knows how.
I know he loves me too, me and him, we are bound together, forever. Maybe he is the one that will guide me back to my son when I’m allowed to go where he is… or maybe he is my son, a reflection of the man he should have become in this world.