It started when I was at boarding school in Antwerp.
It was a weekly boarding school. Every monday morning my dad drove me to school and I would return on friday. He has done this every monday for those six years. My dad is not much of a talker, but we have the best conversations after a good meal, when we go down to the local pub to have a pint of Belgian draught beer. I love my dad.
In my third year at boarding school -I must have been 14 years old- I was allowed to go out in town on a wednesday afternoon. Oh yes, in Belgium the kids in school have free on a wednesday afternoon. They are so lucky!
In town I would find myself a public phone, put in a 20 Bfr (Belgian Franc - yes) coin in and phone my mum.
'Hi mum, its me'
'Hi sweetheart, how are you?'
It was a weekly boarding school. Every monday morning my dad drove me to school and I would return on friday. He has done this every monday for those six years. My dad is not much of a talker, but we have the best conversations after a good meal, when we go down to the local pub to have a pint of Belgian draught beer. I love my dad.
In my third year at boarding school -I must have been 14 years old- I was allowed to go out in town on a wednesday afternoon. Oh yes, in Belgium the kids in school have free on a wednesday afternoon. They are so lucky!
In town I would find myself a public phone, put in a 20 Bfr (Belgian Franc - yes) coin in and phone my mum.
'Hi mum, its me'
'Hi sweetheart, how are you?'
and for as long as the 20bfr allowed us we would chitchat and talk about nothing.
It was just nice to hear her voice, and to feel connected to 'home'.
The phone calls continued when I studied at university.
When my brother joined me for studies we decided to rent an appartement together.
We got our own phone in the appartement and now it is was even easier to call home, or for my mum to call us.
No more coins for a public phone, but monthly phone bills with merely one number called.
The habit stayed. No matter where I am or live, we 'need' to call each other at least 2 times a week.
We even feel the need of the other. It's a taught that creeps up in my mind: 'need to call mum' - and often when I do, she answers : 'I was just about to call you!' Telephathy, I believe it exists. At least between my mum and me.
The phone calls are my lifeline, I can vent my frustrations, my insecurity and my anger, I can share my joy, my hopes and my beliefs. Mum tells about her daily life, who married who, who had a baby, who died. She tells me about the dog, and how dad is. I need these unimportant trivia to sooth my mind and to feel balanced and rooted. Most of all though she just listens to me. And that is exactly what I need.
I love my mum.
Last year she was diagnosed with oesophagus cancer. The world turned upside down for all of us.
The first doctor told her it was palliative, too late, sorry. We all were in sheer panic mode.
I flew to Belgium and held her in my arms. The world turned but mine stood still.
With the help of my FIL we got a second opinion. The odds were turning as this doctor wanted to treat her.
Treatment involved chemo, radiation, an operation and a hospital stay.
We bought her an ipad and installed skype.
The calls continued, images included.
The world had turned. I was telling little trivia now , how Ms Lollipop was doing in school, how the dog was doing, where MrGuzzi was travelling this week. And I was listening. I listened to her frail voice telling me about the treatments, her anger, her panic and her devastation. The not-knowing, the chances, the fear. She was lost and frankly so was I.
We called daily, twice a day sometimes. I was far away and couldn't hold her, but I could call and listen.
We called her yesterday with skype on my phone. How far from my 20bfr coin is that! The three of us standing on the beach at Sentosa island in Singapore, singing happy birthday. I didn't care the looks the other people gave us , it was morning in Belgium and I wanted her to wake up to a birthday song. So, we sang from the top of our longs.
In the evening MrGuzzi had left for India, and MsLollipop was to bed. She was online so we skyped again, just the two of us.
She looked good. All is going well. Her hair is growing back. Her voice is back. The eyes are back. Her smile is real again.
And for the first time in almost a year she listened to me again. I only realized it after the call. I had told her something that was on my mind lately, and she looked and she listened. The world turned.
Happy Birthday mama! Welcome back! I love you!
Dikke zoen. Evelyn
It was just nice to hear her voice, and to feel connected to 'home'.
The phone calls continued when I studied at university.
When my brother joined me for studies we decided to rent an appartement together.
We got our own phone in the appartement and now it is was even easier to call home, or for my mum to call us.
No more coins for a public phone, but monthly phone bills with merely one number called.
The habit stayed. No matter where I am or live, we 'need' to call each other at least 2 times a week.
We even feel the need of the other. It's a taught that creeps up in my mind: 'need to call mum' - and often when I do, she answers : 'I was just about to call you!' Telephathy, I believe it exists. At least between my mum and me.
The phone calls are my lifeline, I can vent my frustrations, my insecurity and my anger, I can share my joy, my hopes and my beliefs. Mum tells about her daily life, who married who, who had a baby, who died. She tells me about the dog, and how dad is. I need these unimportant trivia to sooth my mind and to feel balanced and rooted. Most of all though she just listens to me. And that is exactly what I need.
I love my mum.
Last year she was diagnosed with oesophagus cancer. The world turned upside down for all of us.
The first doctor told her it was palliative, too late, sorry. We all were in sheer panic mode.
I flew to Belgium and held her in my arms. The world turned but mine stood still.
With the help of my FIL we got a second opinion. The odds were turning as this doctor wanted to treat her.
Treatment involved chemo, radiation, an operation and a hospital stay.
We bought her an ipad and installed skype.
The calls continued, images included.
The world had turned. I was telling little trivia now , how Ms Lollipop was doing in school, how the dog was doing, where MrGuzzi was travelling this week. And I was listening. I listened to her frail voice telling me about the treatments, her anger, her panic and her devastation. The not-knowing, the chances, the fear. She was lost and frankly so was I.
We called daily, twice a day sometimes. I was far away and couldn't hold her, but I could call and listen.
We called her yesterday with skype on my phone. How far from my 20bfr coin is that! The three of us standing on the beach at Sentosa island in Singapore, singing happy birthday. I didn't care the looks the other people gave us , it was morning in Belgium and I wanted her to wake up to a birthday song. So, we sang from the top of our longs.
In the evening MrGuzzi had left for India, and MsLollipop was to bed. She was online so we skyped again, just the two of us.
She looked good. All is going well. Her hair is growing back. Her voice is back. The eyes are back. Her smile is real again.
And for the first time in almost a year she listened to me again. I only realized it after the call. I had told her something that was on my mind lately, and she looked and she listened. The world turned.
Happy Birthday mama! Welcome back! I love you!
Dikke zoen. Evelyn
RSS Feed