The Sports Journalist.

Is it just coincidence or does the universe talk? And if the universe talks, what does it say?

Yesterday I traveled back home. I had spent some time with my mom and, like always during my stay, we talked about some things from the past. She was telling about a recent radio show in which the widow of the deceased mayor of Amsterdam was interviewed. Still a young woman who talked about her mourning, honestly and real. A Dutch magazine has invited her to write about her loss in a monthly column.

Widows

This reminds me of another widow of a deceased mayor, already quite some years ago: the stepmother and father of a boyfriend from the past. His stepmother wrote for a woman’s magazine about her grief and the memories she deeply cherished and later these columns were collected and published in a book. I was telling my mom that I read this book years ago and thought it was beautiful, simple and pure. I think for both women writing these columns must be like therapy.

Reminiscing

My mom went on and told me she recently saw a tv program in which a sports journalist was interviewed who happens to be the cousin of this ex-boyfriend of mine. As both their fathers were twin brothers, the boys looked almost like twins as well, being born more less around the same time. My mom saw a remarkable resemblance and it took her by surprise. Then we dug further into the past, whilst drinking red wine, and my mom and I were reminiscing about what happened to this ex-boyfriend D., who tragically died 12 years ago when we weren’t together anymore. We talked about addiction and mental illness – he suffered from a drug addiction and something that must have been a manic depression. We were only together for a few, intense, months, when he suddenly left and I never heard from him again, apart from a text message that said he was sorry that he couldn’t be with me anymore. I already wasted too many tears so I went on with my life. Two years later he was found dead in the harbor of Amsterdam.

Cousin

I only met his cousin, the sports journalist, briefly at the cremation in the summer of 2007. Weeks after the ceremony the cousin phoned me and I was shocked to hear the similarity in his voice. Not only their looks, but also their voices were so similar. We were talking on the phone for an hour or so and I remember I poured my heart out. He was understanding and frank and listened to my stories. He wanted to bring some small belongings that were still mine to my home in Rotterdam. D’s mom had asked him to do so. So we made an appointment, but in the end he couldn’t make it because of traffic jams due to a big dance event in the city. I was disappointed, but later I was happy he couldn’t come. It would have been hard and crazy to meet this cousin, whose appearance remembered of an old love that was no longer alive.

Stepping back and forth

Talking about the things that have passed and looking back to them can feel like taking steps backwards. Reminiscing. The good and the bad. Almost as if I’m back in time. Reviving. Probably the red wine makes the feeling stronger. But it doesn’t make any sense at all. I haven taken thousands of steps forward now.

Voice

So yesterday I hopped on the plane home. I walked to the gate since it was almost time to board. Shortly after I walked to my seat in the plane and sat down, a young woman came to sit next to me. She was together with a man who reminded me of somebody I knew…it was the sports journalist…he took the seat next to her. At first I wasn’t sure if it was really him. But then he started to talk to her and I believed I heard something in his voice. It reminded me of somebody I knew. But I didn’t feel the need to say anything to him. I haven taken thousands of steps forward now.

Choking on words

Strangely, my sister, when she was saying goodbye to me at the train station and with whom I didn’t speak a word about the sudden memories I have had, almost choked on her words when she said to send her love to my man Dorus, but I understood what she almost tried to say.

Is this just coincidence or does the universe wants to tell me something? Maybe, to say the dead live close to us? They have only slipped away to the next room, I once read in a poem. Yes, maybe they do.

Con Amor,

Eva

Photo: Aykutmaykut on Instagram

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Eva is a Dutch writer based on the Balearic Islands (Ibiza). She has created this blog EVALUNES to share her writings about the things she cares. She writes with love. Con Amor. Always.

4 thoughts on “The Sports Journalist.

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