Landed on a tropical island: The shade of palm trees

Give it full throttle, because if I come to a stop, I'll flip with the whole mess. Then the misery is complete. Come on, it's also starting to rain, which means the road is getting slippery.

I have to climb a steep part of the mountain, the road is full of sand, has a few tricky bends and is full of holes.

My scooter full of junk, because I'm on the run… for life or for death, who knows, but it's clear that I can't stay at home.

With a stuffed backpack, two bags on my shoulders and my cat Zootje howling in a pink plastic basket in front of me on the scooter, I have to pull out all the stops to drive this 125 cc up the mountain with enough speed. Steering doesn't work very well, because the basket with the cat in it is in the way. I'm almost there, don't stop, keep going, keep going.

Exhausted, as if I had been on the run for days, I arrive at my safe house.

The house is on top of the mountain and has an incredibly beautiful view.

From the balcony I can easily count a thousand palm trees, which form a green blanket all the way to the ocean.

Yes, here is rest, wholesome rest. Exactly what I need right now.
I throw the stuff in a corner, let the cat out of the pink basket, grab my laptop, open it and start my book, now!

Almost 3 years ago that the Kuuk died. Recently I was asked if I had processed it a bit, that great sadness.

His death caused a deep wound, and there is already quite a scab on it. Maarrrr… don't fiddle with it! I'm happy, I'm doing pretty well. Until a few days ago.

When the raw reality showed that this crust is paper thin.

It is a sunny day and from my hammock I see someone walking towards my neighbour's house. She has been living there for 3,5 years, is just as young as my daughter Roos, and is also perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She is very private and rarely gets visitors. Occasionally I invite her for dinner or a beer on my terrace. Sometimes we have unexpectedly beautiful conversations.

I greet the visitor and ask if I can help him with anything. He tells you that you are worried about my neighbor. She doesn't respond to calls and hasn't reported to her online work, that's not for her. No, that's not really for her. Let's take a look together. After calling and knocking for a while, I tell him to kick in the door. A great shock awaits us;

she is no longer alive.

Suddenly my crust breaks open, fresh and old sorrow wells up and gushes out. So much, so intense that it scares me. Death so close again, brings about a lot. Grief for her, grief for the Kuuk, her mother's grief, for everything and everyone in the whole world. I cry hard and I cry for a long time, I can't be ashamed of it, it relieves me. For me there is support, for her it's over. Unbelievable and so sad.

I feel deep compassion for her mother, her life will never be the same again.

After a few days I feel I have to get out of my house. Every time I see her little house, and I see it all day because I live next door, I am reminded of the moment we found her.

That is not good.

I have to get out of this area, somewhere else. Move, and immediately. Bring a backpack as much as possible. The cat is crammed into the basket, and is also upset, of course thinks she needs to go to the vet. You don't have to, we go to the Secret mountain about 10 scooter minutes away. There Robin has built a house for himself and made room for me; “if you want to live there mom, it's for you”.

A few days later, I still get homesick for my own house. The greatest panic has been written away, the beautiful view cannot tempt me to stay. It's not my home. Besides, Roos is flying in to be with me. Soooo, with the whole mess back again, a person is making a mess.

Now, a few weeks later, I feel at home in my own house again, my life is in calmer waters again and I am grateful, also for all the support I received.
Grateful that my Thai landlady sent for a monk for a ceremony. He has performed prayers and rituals in her cottage so that her spirit is free to move on to the next life. Roos and I were allowed to be at the ceremony, and that did me good. Grateful for attending the cremation and the conversations with her mother. She tells me that her daughter died of a pulmonary embolism. Grateful for my dear children, his strong arms that protected me, the comforting words, the listening ears, support from dear friends and family, near and far, support from an unexpected quarter.

Actually just like 3 years ago. I think a piece has been processed again. My life goes on, my life goes on...