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©by Rutger Hauer

402am. Jetlag. Awake.

Coincidence had it that when I got on a Dutch TV talkshow it was one day away from the death of a friend who passed away.
Twenty seven years ago. Marius. He died of Hodgekin when he was 29.
Of course one of the strange privileges if you are lucky te get on with age is that some people around you will pass away. And we carry our loved ones souls around.
Of course they never die.
We don't want them to go.
The idea of letting go divides me.
What a great idea.
It is impossible for me to let go of his memory and of course in my heart I do celebrate the great times we had.
But it never stops the pain.
In the Dutch version of my autobiography 'ALL THOSE MOMENTS' I dedicated the book to him and there is a poem I wrote when I had put him into the grave. As the makers of the TV program had studied the site they found all the poems. Of my poems I have never published any of them except his. Just before the airing they asked me to read it on the air. I hesitated. Part of this program was about two soldiers in Afghanistan from the Dutch Army who had died in friendly fire a few days ago. So sad. But I did. Since it felt allright as the live program got underway.

Since the poem is not in the English version, here it is.


Her son
so sweet to his sister
and mother
my friend
as death
hides behind your
silent lashes
and the shine in your
eyes has lost
its breath
I push
the boat
into the wind
holding your hand
for a
the letting go
as the boat heels
over on its side
on a different heading

no one
and nothing ever
will be
the same as it was
I loved you
the way you were
and always
will be


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