In the Pagoda Forest and yet in Vienna

Sometimes things don't go as planned. And so the blog becomes more personal than I could have imagined beforehand. Just now my mother was buried in Vienna. I am here in Myanmar, and I am not feeling well about it, even though I know that a journey back home would have only conformed to societal customs and would not have benefited my mother anymore. A dear friend from Belgium, who met my mother and me when we were both already adults, wrote me such a nice message that I want to let her speak here.

Hartelijk bedankt, dear Myriame!

'Oh Evelyn, what a warm and loving and beautiful memory I keep of Margriet, your mother. As evidence: she and you are the only ones of all my guests that I have ever visited. I used to love listening to Margriet: her eyes always beamed with a mixture of wonder, astonishment, and disbelief. During my visit to you, when we said goodbye in that special restaurant near my hotel, I made a firm decision to come back, I wanted to meet Margriet in Vienna.

And you know what, when we parted in the street and you both walked away arm in arm, I kept watching your backs. I know that I sealed your mother in my mind at that moment, something told me, I only hope who knows.

Ever since your first visit to my house, I have listened with wonder and great appreciation to your dialogues. Deep in my heart, I longed for a mother like you, Evelyn, to whom you could say anything without inhibition and from whom you could get an uninhibited answer or a piece of your mind. I found that fantastic."

'But Mama,' and then Margriet would get a loving scolding from her beloved daughter. Always followed by 'But Evelyn, you...'

That game of differences of opinion was just delightful. Oh Evelyn, how you will miss her, but I think you can move on, She gave you wings to fly.

(...)

You are a Lucky Duck, Evelyn, to have had such a mother.'