(uit een inmiddels verdwenen linkje)
Christmas Eve, 2013: I stopped by the Trinity Terrace retirement community in early afternoon to visit Leo Vroman and his wife, Tineke. They sat as they always did, beside each other on the sofa of their small apartment, holding hands, surrounded by their books and by Leo’s sketches and paintings, many of them of her. We chatted quietly about the year that was ending and the one to come.
“This is probably my last year,” Leo said.
“I hope you’re wrong,” I said.
“I probably have considerably less time than that,” he said.
He seemed certain about it, resigned. My friend was dying, which is what often happens to people when they are 98 years old.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten