Warning: This blog entry is about death.
If you do not want to read about this, please skip this blog entry. Thank you.
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| My fathers' coffin, almost ready to be buried. |
You cannot imagine the impact the death of your father or mother has, until it happens to you.
I was sitting...
I was sitting in my room in Wageningen. A few days before I heard from the University I had completed the Master course and could call myself Master of Science. I had made it. Within five years I had earned both my Bachelor and Master's degree and I was really happy. Before this delightful new I had been on vacation to Scotland. Together with my mother, father and brother we traveled through Scotland with a very pleasant bus and bus driver. I remember all the vivid colours of green and yellow gold that painted the landscape of those hills and glens.
In my room the warmth was pleasant and together with my best friend Marina, I had a nice meal and we talked about the future. I wanted to go to the United Kingdom and start a career there.
Suddenly, the phone rang. I did not expect anything and looked at the number. It was my mother. She was probably curious about what I was doing and when I would come home. We had a great birthday party that weekend. My mother had turned 50 and my father would become 68 in a few weeks. Next to that, their 12,5 years marriage would be close as well and we wanted to celebrate everything in one big party. However, my mother did not sound happy. She asked me in a cold tone to sit down.
I did. The first thing I thought, was my grandmother was in the hospital. She was getting more and more accidents and it would not be a great surprise to hear that.
I have to tell you something
"I have to tell you something," she said, "Your father is dead."
It was the biggest shock of my life. My father was healthy. He was getting old (almost 68) but he was healthy. He was active, enjoyed life and was...just... not ready to die. I remember I shouted: "What?!" and immediately told Marina. She had lost her father at a younger age and she took care of my completely shocked person. I was floating in a sea of emptyness. I was hardly attached to my body, but also hidden inside of the fleshy shell. I felt how Marina held me and tried to comfort me. I heard my mother say my uncle would come to pick me up. So I could be home that night.
I just let everything flow over me. My mother hung up and I told Marina someone would pick me up soon. I just had to pick some clothes out of the closet. Marina helped me as much as she could.
I remember the drive home. My uncle was silent. My brother was in the back seat, waiting for me. I remember being surprised. Why was he here? He should be with my mother. For the first time in a long while, not since we were very very young, I hold my brother's hand.
The ring
When we arrived at the funeral centre, I saw my mother. She was heart broken. I had never seen here like that in life. Her father had passed away some years before. But her grief then was nothing compared to her grief that night. I will not get into detail, but hearing my mother's cry changed me for ever.
I suddenly realised that life was not like I always experienced it. It would be harsh, it would be difficult. I had to grow up. I was 25, but still a child. I knew nothing. I felt helpless and angry. helpless, because I could not ask my father for help anymore. Angry because I felt so helpless and I should know better. I always get angry with myself when I think I should know better.
When it was time to go home for the night, we were again picked up by my uncle. It was silent. Not only in the car. It was silent in my head as well. We got to our home, went inside and sat at the table in our living room. After some minutes my mother went away, but came back with a jewelry box. My father had collected a couple of necklaces, rings and epaulettes in his time. My brother got a necklace (later on he got more). My mother kept my father's wedding ring ofcourse. For me, my mother showed me a ring. It was a small gold one, with a bright stone, set weirdly. I had never seen it before. My mother told me it was my father's pink ring. The stone was a diamond, set askew as to not shine too bright.
"You should try it on," she said, "Maybe we can bring it to the jewelry store to adjust the size." I looked at the ring. My father had big hands. almost one and a half times my hands. I put the ring on my right ring finger. And it fitted perfectly. Never before did I have a perfect fitting ring and now my father's ring would fit without any adjustment. It was an amazing coincident.
Change
I wore the ring almost every day that year. And the year after that. It reminded me of him. I still have the ring, but I have changed. I do not have to be reminded of him. I still cry when I think about him too much. However, I also turned a page. I fell in love. I actually fell in love with a woman for the first time. I got a job. I got new friends. I kept old friends (which is actually quite new for me. I am not always the friend I want to be). I want to move out and have my own living space (I do not have one yet and live with my mother since my father's death). At work they stimulate change, which I have done a lot.
So yes, this has had the biggest impact on me.
