Time does not fly, it crawls by times and steps along the rest of the time, at gentle pace it steps in parallel with your life. 22 years is a life time really but it still feels like yesterday. It is still wrong, it is still sad, it is still wrong…
I translated (to the best of my abilities) what Jef Geeraerts, one of my dads best friends, wrote and read at the funeral. He is a very well known writer and was by fathers side during his illness until the end.
“on 27 April of this year, around nine o’lock in the evening, during a gentle rain, the black bird that was already slowly circling above Willy Slawinski for a while, has landed.
His large heart beats no more. His artist hands lay still.
His restless mind that magically made appear continuously the most genius of creations, is now floating around with the gods in the universe that called him to them this early as they love him so.This barely consoles us.
Happily, if we want, we will hear his voice in our inner ear , his beautiful slavic face will appear in our dreams and our fingertips will feel the warmth and the power he projected.”