MY HEALING JOURNEY.
24 April 2015
Hello everyone,
Last Monday Michel was told that he has a malignant tumour on the liver. Unfortunately, it turns out to be a metastasis, and now they have to search for the origin of this little monster. Michel is tired and in a lot of pain. Every day is different and experienced differently.
At first, we did not want to tell anyone yet. Our two youngest children are in the middle of their final exams. But now, after only four days, we realize we probably cannot keep this to ourselves. Max and Anjali may be crazy sometimes, but they’re not stupid. We told them so they can “get used” to the bad news. Yes, you can even get used to bad news… Hopefully they will get through their exams without too many scratches.
Michel was supposed to go to the hospital this coming Tuesday. Our daughter has to deliver her baby by caesarean section that day. Michel and I really want to be there for Renée, so that appointment has been moved to Friday 1 May.
As Michel puts it, they will first take a look from underneath with a camera crew, and afterwards from the top. The doctor said he wants to move forward quickly. We will have a treatment plan soon.
For now, Michel is at home and everything is “normal”. And that is how we want to keep it. If you are used to coming by, then just come — and talk about the things we normally talk about. If you’re not used to coming by, then don’t start now either!
Through this group email I will keep you informed of the steps being taken. I would appreciate it if you do not call me!!! You may send a text, I will read it when I feel like it or if I have the time, but I will not respond. Of course, it is nice to receive signs of compassion every now and then. But I already notice that I am becoming some kind of secretary of the little monster that has settled in Michel. We do not have the energy for that kind of “administration” right now. We just want peace, and to see what happens in the moment.
So please do not ask about it if you see us. I (Annette) will keep you informed and will let you know when we need something.
I hope I have informed you sufficiently.
Greetings,
Michel and Annette Groen.
11 May 2015
Today we had a conversation with the oncologist. After some skirmishes and “mistakes”, we finally had a clear and straightforward talk.
Michel’s past, both mentally and physically, was explored thoroughly and mapped out. After that she summarised the past weeks.
Initially it was assumed that the tumour they found in the liver was a metastasis. Primary liver cancer is rare, unless contracted outside Europe in the form of hepatitis B/C, or cirrhosis (heavy alcohol use),
Drugs with needle use. None of this applies to Michel. They have searched the intestines, lungs, prostate, gallbladder, stomach, oesophagus and spinal column. Everything is clean. Rare as it may be, the thought now shifts towards primary liver cancer. If the above profile does not apply, this appears to be a rarity. That does fit Michie’s profile, I think then.
To rule out that there is truly nothing anywhere else, a PET scan will be done tomorrow. A PET scan (positron emission tomography) is a form of nuclear imaging. By using a small amount of radioactive material, changes in the metabolism of cells can be visualised. How does it work? A PET scan is used with some types of cancer. Cancer cells usually have an increased metabolism compared to normal cells. That means cancer cells use much more sugar. Before a PET scan, a small amount of radioactive sugar is injected into the blood. This radioactive sugar then concentrates in the places where the cancer cells are located. The radioactivity becomes visible on the images the scan creates. To produce better quality images, a PET scan is sometimes supplemented with a CT scan. On Friday an MRI scan will be done, this time only of the liver. The hope is that the tumours in the liver will be located more clearly.
Normally, with a suspected tumour (which it is until proven otherwise), a biopsy is taken so that the sample can be sent to a pathologist, who can ultimately confirm whether the tumour is malignant or something else. With a liver, they prefer not to do this, because the puncture itself may damage the cells, causing them to divide. So this week they will try, by means of the PET scan and MRI scan, to determine whether it is indeed a malignant tumour only in the liver.
Next week Tuesday, a multidisciplinary team will examine this case, and next week Thursday we have another appointment with the oncologist. At that point, the treatment plan will be clear.
THE PAIN.
According to the oncologist, there are two forms of cancer that cause the most pain: a tumour in the lung tissue, and when a tumour touches the coat/capsule of the liver. The latter is the case with Michel. Up to now, the pain management has been hell. During the peaks he crawls through the house, and all day he is in terrible pain. They are now trying to find a sustainable situation with morphine and other medication. This may take some time because it must be increased step by step until it is right. Hopefully this will succeed soon, because it is truly horrible to witness. I do have to say that he bravely pushes himself through it.
Life here goes on as normally as possible. It is wonderful that no one approaches us personally about this situation. The moments of rest and “emptiness” are precious to us now. Home is home – no hospital story for a moment.
At the end of next week I will send another email with the findings. Through this channel I will continue to communicate our needs.
Our heartfelt thanks for your understanding.
Greetings,
Michel and Annette
21 May 2015
Today we had a conversation with the oncologist. Unfortunately, with an unpleasant result.
It has been established that Michel has pancreatic cancer. An aggressive form with metastases throughout the body. Because of this, a cure is no longer possible. It has been proposed to start chemotherapy. Firstly, to reduce the pain as much as possible and secondly, to prolong life. The consideration to not do this is strongly discouraged, because experience shows that with this form, the pain becomes too severe. Chemo offers relief in this. Michel was allowed to think it over quietly. He did — for about 5 seconds. He is going for it, and as soon as possible.
In Cancerland, it is the strongest chemo there is. In other words, for some people very hard to endure. The plan is 10 rounds of chemo every 2 weeks. After that it is up to the universe.
When asked about life expectancy, the following answer came: this varies greatly. There are people who do not finish the chemo, and there are also people who can continue for a while afterwards. The average (but that is statistical) is from half a year to a year. Everything depends on Michel’s condition and how he tolerates it.
As a true mathematics teacher, he knows everything about statistics, so he has decided to stand on the good side of these statistics. Simply a few more years. And… science does not stand still either! All in all a good attitude. Of course, other feelings creep up on both of us as well, we are not blind to that. Very realistically, we will arrange certain matters. Then that is taken care of. It can’t hurt for now or for the future. As a family we are growing in this situation and we will do this in the most pleasant way possible.
The plan is to put a good bed in the living room. One of those things that can go up and down in all sorts of ways. Michel will then be able to withdraw regularly and still be part of the family. This also gives him a chance to find the easiest way to sleep. For me, a good night’s rest is important during this period as well. That way we can support each other the best.
This summer a number of jobs are planned. Michel is not exactly a superhero when it comes to DIY. Now every form of stress is very unpleasant. That is why I will indicate what I can use help with this summer. That would be very nice. Cozy, and we don’t have to stare at each other’s navels.
We had planned a long weekend to Euro Disney with the children, 6, 7 and 8 June. Renée came up with the idea to do this anyway with the whole family, so Renée, Guido, Gwenn and Amarantha will also join. I called the hospital to report this. It seems like a solid plan. We can all take care of each other and our dream of doing something once with the entire full family (10 of us) will then come true immediately.
23 June 2015
Today Michel and I visited the oncologist. After his blood was checked, it became clear that the blood values, scientifically speaking, have risen alarmingly. That means that the 2nd chemotherapy cannot be administered. An ultrasound will be made tomorrow to see whether the bile ducts have become blocked. Then a drain can possibly be placed. The treatment plan has now been turned upside down, so what it will become remains the question. The oncologist is very saddened, but I was able to reassure her. Michel and I are calm and let everything come our way. Mich feels, under the circumstances, good and just continues living as we all do. We have the pain under control and that is worth a lot. Eating is still a search, but that will come too.
Mr Groen is now yellow. Very happy with the children around him. What else is there? What can we do? Where are we going?
Time will teach us. Now, in the moment, we have found our way. Taking it easy and anticipating in the moment is so far the solution.
Anjali had her diploma ceremony here in the garden. That was very special for us, but also for the teachers. Unfortunately, Michel cannot go to Max and Sanne’s diploma ceremony. So we will take lots of pictures or film. Consciously enjoying is now even more / even stronger our motto!
If we need help, I will certainly ask. If you want to come by, please call first to see if it is possible. My number is 0646608792.
Greetings,
Michel and Annette
25 June 2015
This will probably be my second-to-last email. Today Michel, the oncologist and I decided to stop all possible treatments. It might give a little more time, but also a lot more misery and pain. It is about the quality of life. Michel feels good now. That is the most important thing for us!!!
From now on, according to the oncologist, we speak in terms of days. Every moment is therefore truly one.
Tonight we are going to enjoy a nice barbecue outside, with the whole family and a few good friends. We are happy and grateful that the pain is so well under control and that, within the warmth of his family, Michel can peacefully find his time to go. We will certainly enjoy the precious moments and smart, assertive remarks. It may sound strange, but we are having fun. With a calm feeling we face the time ahead.
For complete clarity, if you are used to coming here, then simply continue to do so now. If you are not used to coming here, then definitely do not start now. If you feel a strong urge to come by, please call me first to see if it is the right moment.
My heartfelt thanks for your lovely messages, cards etc.
Greetings,
Michel and Annette
30 June 2015
From this moment on Michel has indicated that he only wants to be with his family.
No other family or friends anymore. It is now about peace and no other energies in his vicinity.
Thank you for all your interest and cards, we will keep you informed.
Greetings,
Annette
05 July 2015
This morning at 03:31 Michel passed away. In the garden, at that exact moment, the moon shone over him.
With very calm breathing and complete relaxation he eventually went, moving towards his new journey.
For everyone who was not here, all of this has gone quickly. We, with the whole family, have had the space to grow within this process. We are glad that everything went so peacefully and serenely. Glad for Michel that he is released.
The intention is that he will be laid out here at home. From tomorrow (Monday) until and including Wednesday, people are free to come by between 12:00 and 17:00 to say goodbye.
We would appreciate receiving a hug, preferably not kisses.
We would also appreciate it if you could bring one (1) flower or a candle for Michel.
Once again, thank you for all the attentions we have received lately.
Greetings,
Annette and the children.
A SEA OF TEARS…
30 August 2015
Tears roll down my cheeks, they come from a pool deep within. That pool turns out to be a source from an endless ocean. The salty water that rises keeps flowing and causes those floods across my face.
From the moment Mich heard that he had cancer, a dark empty space appeared in me. Just like the cells in Mich that divided and made the tumours grow, that emptiness in me grew and slowly the light went out.
What did our relationship look like? Were we the ideal couple? Were we a pair no one would want to trade places with? Were we good parents? Were we individuals? Were we not together? Were we intertwined or had we grown apart? What was our bond? What could we count on? What did we like? What did he find beautiful? What did I enjoy? How was it? How is it? How could it have become?
Thousands of questions. From countless perspectives, just as many answers.
One thing is certain for me… during his physical life I was aware that we were two individuals who formed a UNITY. Why, how? Only God knows. However complicated our life was/is, we both had/have that feeling. Half a word, a look, body language, we knew what was going on inside the other.
In life you know that this feeling of unity is nothing physical, but bigger, beyond everything…..
Still I cry…..?
How can he ever be gone? He is one with me, a part of me…
The physical is only a tiny little bit, which we as humans make so big. Unconditional love, universal love, Love with a capital letter, you feel in your heart.
By making that connection with your heart, your beloved is there again. For me that is Michel. Maybe he is even clearer now, pure. When I talk to him, I hear his answers. In the corner of my eyes I constantly see something move. It is as if my body picks up the sensations that apparently were there before as well. Then it passed me by, because he could come home any moment. What on earth was I waiting for back then? He was and is always home… in my heart.
It may sound strange, but those tears fill my emptiness and make the sun rise slowly within me again. It is as if Michel has jumped into our ocean, like a kind of cannonball. The tsunami that arises because of this comes out through my physical eyes, until the water has calmed again and we can go on together in two different forms of life.
Full of light and strength…
FAREWELL
31 August 2015
As you know, I live somewhat secluded. A choice I made myself, by the way. I would like to share my processing/grieving process. I notice that this works for me in this way. Today I was at my GP. She wonders whether I am not suppressing my grief. How is it possible that, since 24 April, I can be the way I am? She does not understand it. You must miss your husband, right? That is true. The process of grieving is obvious, I am in the middle of it, but I also look at my own process as an outsider. This is how I stand in life. Nothing more and nothing less.
Saying goodbye already begins very early in your life. You are born and immediately say farewell to the safety of your mother’s womb. You drink from the breast and are therefore still one with your mother. The smell, the closeness, safe, protected. This too comes to an end. Sometimes very quickly, fortunately for some it may last a bit longer. You stay at home until you go to the toddler group. Nowadays, after 3 months, you can go to childcare because your mother and father both have to go back to work. Toddler group, primary school, secondary school, further education. Again and again saying goodbye. You also often no longer see your friends, or hardly. If you are unlucky, during this period your grandfather and grandmother or other loved ones die. Pets do not grow very old, so here too you have to say goodbye. First loves, second loves, etc. Living together, marrying is no longer a certainty either. The rose-coloured glasses come off. People walk away quickly when it becomes too difficult.
Physically you change from baby until you are very elderly. Every change in your body is again a farewell. Moving house, shifts, changes. You make plans, assumptions or set goals that do not go the way you imagined.
From the moment you are born, we continually say goodbye. It hurts, it is sometimes frightening, sometimes pleasant, a relief. Your body reacts to this. You feel it, you see it, you cannot avoid it.
Life is unpredictable, it is a movement that you seemingly do not appear to have under control. If you learn to enjoy the moment, you feel happiness, peace. Accept the flow of life. Try not to plan anything, not to keep control. If you do plan, always keep the possibility open that something may happen that means you must adjust or change your plan. Be flexible. Look at nature: it sometimes destroys, breaks, even disappears, but something new comes back in its place. It restores itself again and again. We are part of that nature. Why should it be different for us? In our lives the sun shines, and it also sets again and again. It rains, it storms, it snows, it hails, it is windless, etc. The durability of a human life lies between 0 and 100 years. Because of this, in life we are assured of one thing: we all die. What happens before or after that is filled in by each person according to faith, conviction etc.
Living until death follows is therefore, in my opinion, something very natural. Why then is such weight given to this only certainty?
If you can say, he or she lived his/her life to the fullest until the end. How beautiful is that?
With pride I can say that my husband lived until the very last moment!!! It was a special experience to be present for this. Truly the hardest but also the most beautiful period of my life.
PAIN
1 September 2015
At the moment I heard that Mich was so seriously ill on 24 April, I completely panicked. Crying, I screamed it out. Crying, crying, crying. I did that the first day until suddenly it became quiet inside me. Very quiet……..
Why was I crying? Had I cried for Mich? After all, he was ill and in pain. SHOCK……..
NO, I cried because I was afraid of losing him! How would it go on? What is it like not to lie spooning together every night? How can I get warm in winter without him? What about finances? Who will pick up the children at night? Yes, even……. who will take out the rubbish? Who will walk the dogs? Who will do the difficult parent-teacher meetings at school? Who gives me support in an environment where I actually do not want to be? Who am I going to talk to? Share my feelings and experiences with? ME, ME, ME……
WOW
Is this grief? These egocentric dramatic threads of thought, from which so many bitter tears flow? Yes, these tears felt bitter!!!
At the moment of this awareness, a big Gyro Gearloose lamp lit up in me. The switch flipped instantly. At such a moment you start asking yourself other questions. What is love? For him? For myself? What is the purpose of this pain? Of this immense sorrow? What is the purpose of life at all? How can I be a support for Mich? How can I be a support for the children? For the people around us? Or support for myself? What is mine to do now? What have I taught others for 30 years? What can I apply from that now? And… make it my own?
Yes, because you can teach spiritual psychological matters, but it only becomes pure if you yourself have experienced it in depth. Life lessons seem very empty and hollow if you have not endured that life lesson yourself. Understanding may be there, unfortunately not deep empathy.
Since I was 12 I have already had a boyfriend….. without breaks. 40 years someone beside me, truly never alone in that sense. Phew, Netje…… that means getting to work. What do you know?
Moments of great loss, enormous pain, immense sorrow, are moments in which major transformations are possible. How do you do that?
By going to the bottom without, for example, guilt, shame or self-pity. Feel it, give the pain a chance. Do not let that pain make you more miserable, but rather more alert. Feel and look, become conscious!!! That is what I am doing now, and that is also very thrilling. My body develops pimples, aches, even warts, and makes me cry. That body is doing its work……..
And yet I feel good and even free. No, not freed from Mich, but simply free…… Lonely is when someone else is needed to reflect, to confirm you or to give you support. Being alone gives you freedom, you take responsibility yourself, you make your own choices. In short, you stand in your OWN power.
Those are themes I taught. Through this event in my life I get the chance to truly be free. I get the chance to stand in my power.
How beautiful is that? Mich is now finished, I may continue a little longer. Not lonely, but alone.
CONFUSION
24 September 2015
Last night I had a conversation with Theo, my therapist. I left his place and inside my head everything was moving, as if all those brain curls were being dug up. Smoking, I walked to my car while trying to place what was happening to me. In my feeling I could walk reasonably well and anticipate the traffic. Neatly waiting until the cars had passed before crossing. Once in my car, the little arm of my brand new TomTom broke off. Okay, I register that and put that thing down next to me. The screen turns black with a white arrow. Fuck, oh well, never mind. I drive off and suddenly realise I have to turn left. Reverse a bit so I can turn into the street. And… BAM… against a tree!!! Fuck, oh well, never mind. Reverse again and now, without looking at the damage, continue my way. At that moment that thing starts talking. After 150 meters turn left. Gosh, it works again? I look and see that the screen is still black with that white arrow. Maybe the arrow has changed shape, I’m not sure. After 85 meters turn right Huppeldepup Street… Fine, I’ll follow that voice as if it’s some kind of guide dog for the blind. After an extra lap through town, listening badly to this TomTom-dog, I decide to look and think for myself to figure out where I am driving, so I can get out of town. Pffff, that works. On the A27 I think hard to let those dug-up brains rest for what they are and focus my eyes on the traffic. With some effort and a few good deep breaths that also works. I am told by the dog: another 24 kilometres straight ahead on the A27. Ohhh that is easy, I can even have a smoke. Turn the radio on… Sinéad O’Connor with Nothing Compares to You… a golden oldie!!! In my mind’s eye I see little Reneetje in front of me. With a smile on my face I sing along. Hey, that feels nice. I move my body as if it is pleasant, it feels cosy to sing along… Then suddenly the words of the song penetrate me. Indeed, nothing compares to Michel. Whatever problems I think I have, HE is the great love of my life!!! I turn the radio off, I don’t want this feeling disturbed by another song. The silence makes the confusion I felt in my skull now noticeable throughout my body. Hmmm probably I didn’t go to a psychotherapist for nothing. A lot is happening inside me, something is shifting, but what? WHAT? In this dark silence I drive through the forest towards home, hoping no deer will jump in front of the car. I am not in the mood for an emergency brake. Universe, grant me this silence/rest for a moment. Luckily, I am granted that… I park the car and still do not look at the possible damage, after all, my car still works. And… that car is not that beautiful anymore anyway, a scratch, a dent more or less, it is fine like this.
Normally Pan is ecstatic when I get home. He jumps, barks and then snaps at me. I always brace myself so I won’t fall flat on my face. Now he is happy, but careful with me, he whimpers like a little puppy. Like a sort of robot, I hang up my coat and empty the pockets. First organise and tidy everything. Tidying up is also such a thing lately, almost compulsive. I want peace, no mess. Make a cup of coffee and then I am allowed to sit down. Pan and Kiba jump straight onto my lap. They fight fiercely for their spot for a moment. Silence again and peace as I stroke the dogs and stare ahead. How do I feel? Confused and dead tired. Turn on the TV. I hardly watch TV anymore, most of the time I spend behind my laptop. That sound irritates me so off with it, only images. War, misery, poverty or more of that kind of rubbish—zap. Stupid game shows—zap… Talk show then… Humberto Tan is pleasant to look at and later Jeroen Pauw not bad either… as long as I don’t have to hear it. Handy that mute button. Mindlessly time passes until Anjali calls if I will pick her up from work. I get up, put on my coat and want to head out, my left leg shoots into a spasm/cramp. PAIN, PAIN, PAIN!!!! Damn, I can’t take a step. After about five minutes the worst pain subsides and I can hobble to the car. Near Anjali’s work I need to pull into a parking area. I know that. I see two trees and think this is it, I slow down to make the sharp turn and see only grass and shrubs!!! Wrong then, this is not an entrance to a parking area. Slowly I drive on and hope to spot the entrance. Yes, there it is!!! I take the turn immediately, because after all I saw it. End result: I take half the sods and a bit of the entrance with me. Pffff, no posts so nothing wrong. Going great with me.
At the front door Anjali is not there yet. I decide to turn around already and reverse to the door. I had seen the thick stone posts and understood that at some point I would not see them anymore. Careful then. While reversing I seriously consider whether to just drive into those posts (then I would know for sure that I am there) or at some point estimate how far I am from them and then stop. Fortunately I choose the latter. Anjali gets into the car happily, she likes her job. She chats and I don’t listen, because I am too busy surviving. How will I get home without damage? How will that confusion in my body calm down? Will that pain in my leg ever go away? What is happening? What? What?
Once home Anjali and I are together for a bit. Yes, really together, with the dogs and with each other. At least it feels relaxed and then I quickly experience it as pleasant. It gives peace when there is no tension. Anjali goes to bed quickly. She works a lot and takes good care of herself. Suddenly I realise I have not eaten and decide to fry yesterday’s kale stew. At 12 o’clock at night I neatly finish my plate and do think it isn’t very smart for digestion. When the TV sound was still on I heard some guy on Humberto Tan saying we get fat from using plates that are too big. Not smart to eat heavy so late, but with a small plate that is a compromise I make at that moment. STUPID? But hey, I do more stupid things and shrug. I decide to go to bed and fall asleep quickly like a block…
The most striking thing about my behaviour lately is that I continuously make choices. I decide this, I think that, etc. Maybe I always do that. Now I am very aware of it. Am I a control freak? Funny, Annette who always seems to so easily GO WITH THE FLOW? I can’t put my finger on it yet, something in me wants to come to the surface like a mole. Through the process I am in now, I can say that much more is coming up than the grieving process itself. A deeply buried little angel is pushing itself toward the light. I now say angel and not mole. The mole is blind, but that painful angel is an angel. I am going to see it and experience it.
13 October 2015
Dear Annette,
I got to know Michel when I started working at the Insula College. In the mornings my colleague and I often saw him coming in, resilient stride, bag under his arm and humming. He would jovially call out “good morning ladies” and shoot into the corridor on his way to his classroom. When the bell had rung he would stand, surprised, at the lodge: “Ladies, there is no class, are they in another room?” “You don’t have a lesson, Michel, only next hour.” To which he would say, genuinely surprised: “Are you serious? Was I that confused? Well, then I’ll just go to the staffroom.” The next day there would be a class rumbling in the hallway long after the bell. A motivated student would then come and ask where Mr Groen was. At that time the relationship between Michel and his phone was not very close yet. But if we managed to reach him, he would again call out in surprise: “I had a lesson then? I’m coming now, make sure they don’t run off.” A concierge would then lie in front of the door to keep the escape-minded youth in the classroom.
Several times a week Michel came to the desk asking whether we had seen his phone. He could not find it anywhere. Usually it turned up from a coat pocket or from the bottom of his bag. We once offered to look after his phone during the day and give it back to him at the end of the day.
During a staff meeting Michel was to give a small presentation about the living room project and the charity for which the money was intended. After some fiddling with a memory stick something finally started happening. On the screen appeared an advert from Marktplaats (a Dutch online marketplace). A roar of laughter broke out, but Michel calmly looked behind him, realised it was not the right file and fiddled a bit more on the laptop. And then luckily we did get to see the photos of the small school in Burkina Faso.
He was the maths man who, absent-minded, forgot his surveillance duty during an exam. As colleague Boone said: “that was really annoying,” but on the other hand Michel was always willing to stand in for a colleague who was prevented, or who likewise had forgotten his or her duty. I can still see him there, late in the afternoon, bag and coat with him. The timetabler was grumbling about a supervisor who was not present in the classroom and was about to go and look for them. “Sit down girl,” Michel called. “I’ll go, I’m here anyway. Which room do I need to be in?” It was never too much for him. Sometimes the timetabler apologised because Michel had been scheduled very often. He always waved that away, he felt it was part of it and cheerfully and brightly walked to the exam room.
Then came that Monday afternoon at the end of April. Michel called and said he was almost finished in the hospital and wanted to work again the next day. When I asked what was going on with him, he told me about the cancer that had been diagnosed. I was deeply shocked. Michel was not—he had already thought about it. “I know that people sometimes die earlier than others, I am at peace with that if it will happen to me. But I hope I can leave my wife and children well. Yes, for them I find it very hard.”
He worked for a little while longer. At the end of his last lesson I walked into the classroom. I saw him saying goodbye with high fives to the last boys. He was given a bag of mints by one of them: “for in the hospital, sir.” I embraced him and wished him all the strength in the world. He was not very optimistic but did say he wanted to work again as soon as possible after the holiday. He wanted to mark his own exams, and he did. He came to school and was the old Michel. He did not give us, as colleagues, the opportunity to be dramatic because he did not do so himself. If someone asked how he was doing, he honestly said that he was having a good day, so he was doing well. And that it was sometimes less. He marked his own exams, and also the second corrections. By train he came to Dordrecht to hand in the work. He was especially looking forward to the trip to Disneyland Paris, which fortunately he greatly enjoyed.
I spoke to him again the day before he received his first chemotherapy. He was looking forward to it, something would finally happen. “Will you call me if there are any resitters for my subject?” he asked. And there was one resitter. The Friday after his first round I called. He answered, actually by accident. Because he was so ill. Marking that work was no longer possible. I was no longer able to contact Michel and heard a few days later that communication could only be through you.
And then I heard through Kitty that Michel had passed away. So quickly after all. Marien Smits organised a meeting in the staffroom which was packed. We heard that Michel was at home and that whoever wanted to could still go and see him to say goodbye. I did not want that. Michel was one of my dearest colleagues and I wanted to remember him as he stood there that last time in my office, waving broadly goodbye. “See you soon then Maaik,” and I knew for sure I would never see him again.
He still lives on, certainly with you and the children. But also with us. There is still talk of Michel’s classes, Michel’s mentor groups. His living room project is being continued by a large group of teachers and continues under the name Michel Groen Living Room.
It was good to have known him. I wish you all the strength in the world because grieving, true deep sorrow, costs time and a lot of energy.
Maaike de Waart, student administration Insula College.
Hello Maaike,
Of course I will come and say goodbye at administration!!!
I hope to hear from Beli soon when it suits.
Things are going well with me and the family. We talk with each other about how we feel. Sometimes there is recognition in our experience and that makes us stronger again. What we are all experiencing is that life goes on. The grieving turns out to be a process to which you are surrendered. It is there every moment, every second, like a friend who walks with you. You cannot steer it, it happens to you. The advice I give my children and myself is not to fight it. It is your friend, not your enemy. Let it wash over you so the grieving/healing process can do its work.
At this moment internalising is a pleasant process. Expressing, on the other hand, is very difficult.
Let me explain it to you……
Internalising you do in silence. In silence with your thoughts, in silence with your memories, in silence writing and in silence reading.
For me expressing, the sound, at the moment is difficult. Speaking aloud, company, the TV with sound on, etc.
For example, I read your email with a smile and a lonely silent tear. When I wanted to read this email aloud to one of our daughters, I could barely speak, I was so emotional.
I do not run away from it; everything is allowed to be. I recently went to the reunion of the secondary school where Michel and I both went. Terrifying, but I thought I would just take on that challenge with myself. It was very pleasant, I enjoyed it. When people asked me whether I was married, I said: “yes”. That is how it feels and is for me, so nothing is a lie. As long as I am still in this process, the mourning and loyalty are mine.
Probably I will be another step further when I can tell strangers that I am a widow. I am not that far yet.
Coming to school seems nice to me, I cannot predict in advance how I will be. As I said, the feelings overtake you at moments you do not expect.
Hopefully see you soon!!!
Kind regards,
Annette Groen
THE GREAT LETTING GO
17 December 2015
The year of the great letting go. For me and my family an incisive, sad, painful, yet oh so insightful, beautiful and expanding life lesson. Michel transformed into an invisible but, for us, tangible form. Pan, whom we helped through a rough start as a puppy, now with another family. He gave us love, joy, and we are grateful that he was allowed to be our dog. Max moved to Hilversum for his studies, flown out, creating a beautiful life. Amarantha will study and live in New York. Even though she had already flown out long ago, this undertaking is exciting and challenging. Anjali will live and study in Utrecht. After a time-out, she too is spreading her wings.
Became a grandmother this year! How beautiful is that. Unfortunately, you also let something go then. Clearly not my youthfulness, but it is another shift.
All at once Widow, Empty nest and Grandparent — abbreviated that stands for WEG (GONE). I could never have imagined that all these changes would coincide in one split second. Normally, there are several years in between, right? What does this WEG mean?
Normally speaking: calmly enjoying your children and grandchildren, hopefully in good health, until you yourself choose the finite for the infinite.
For me this WEG means a new beginning, still much to discover, to develop, to create and to do. Old enough for the necessary life experience and a chance to create a challenging and inspiring life at a still relatively young age. How? I do not know yet, but it is certainly my intention for the new year and the many, many years to follow.
Even though, honestly, I am not looking forward to the holidays now, I wish everyone happy holidays and a very beautiful, happy and healthy 2016.
10 February 2016
I cry
I cry the tears of my children
I cry
I cry, saw that you were afraid for a moment
I cry
I cry and we talk about it
He is gone, but so present…..
More and more.
What would you say?
How would you say it?
So hard to find your words again.
You were a conversation magician…..
In all directions.
Eventually one red thread.
Sometimes hard to see.
Eventually always so strong.
Daddy, are you afraid of death?
No, death is always with you.
He always walks with you.
He walks behind you, and when he stands before you……..
You can receive him as an old friend.
Thankfully found a few words of yours again.
Thank you.
Grieving is a life art.
Not around it but through it.
That takes courage.
So intense, painful, confusing…..
If you dare allow these emotions,
In all their overwhelming,
so impressive, awe-inspiring, sweeping, overpoweringly gripping,
Then suddenly you enter the eye of the storm/hurricane.
That peace, that silence, just the same.
(ditto same)
BUBBLE
10 March 2016
Is it going well with me? Yes
Are the events one big drama? No
Is life beautiful? Yes
Do I truly enjoy it? No
Is everything flat, even, no ups and downs? Yes
Spending the night in the same hotel room where Mich and I stayed a year ago did not affect me. Not even a memory.
Going to New York, to see how our daughter is doing, no problem.
The many changes within our family, all under control.
How beautiful is nature?
It puts you in a kind of bubble to make you function, to soften your pain, to guide you to the end of the dark tunnel you have found yourself in.
From the beginning you are allowed to see the light at the end of this tunnel.
Hope.
Something beautiful.
…… there is life after death.
I am hungry, my legs are trembling, it all feels so empty…
Now….. very quietly the tears roll down my cheeks. Rippling, as it were. Somewhere in my body I feel liberation.
The emptiness slowly fills again with happiness. Happy when I look around me, happy when I look at the photo of Mich, happy when I look outside and hear the birds sing.
Happy when I can talk about him.
Grateful for this bubble, this walk through the dark tunnel.
It gives me space to rediscover who I am, what I could do, so that once again in the light, I can continue my path, purified and grown.
Is the end in sight? Maybe
Does it matter? No
I trust that this bubble tunnel will be there for as long as I need it.
So
Is it going well with me? YES
BROKEN BRANCHES
7 August 2016
Last year on 24 September I wrote the following:
I cannot put my finger on it yet, there is something in me that wants to come to the surface like a mole. Through the process I am now in, I can say that much more is coming up than the grieving process itself. A deeply dug-under little angel is working its way towards the light. I now say angel and not mole. The mole is blind, but that painful angel is an angel. I am going to see it and experience it.
Grieving is clearly a process to soften the overwhelming pain. As I said earlier, you end up in a kind of bubble so that you can go through the shock/pain in a reduced way. And yet something else was going on, uncanny but clearly present. Now it has become clearer.
The water of the river flows smoothly and steadily with here and there a rapid. My normal state of emotions and feelings. The trees that stand on the bank dangle their branches here and there into the water. Some branches are broken. The trees stand for matter, the thinking. The broken branches are the wounds acquired in life. They hang in the water. The wounds have left an emotional pain. The water flows on, the branches remain hanging. Then suddenly there is a rain shower so heavy that the water in the river rises enormously. The rain shower is the shock and the enormous grief of Mich’s passing. Because the water has risen, the water also begins to flow faster and more powerfully. The broken branches, the wounds from the past, break off…
It is clear that this process carries along a whole load of old hurt. Old hurt that may and can be let go of. So beautiful to experience that a painful, incisive event helps you, on so many levels of your life, to clear the decks.
Every now and then I break out by going on holiday. Then for a moment I am not the water and the trees, but sit in a little boat. It is all there, but cannot be felt for a moment. At home I am alone and quiet. So much is happening inside me. Going along with the flow, the broken branches give me a healing that goes much further than merely processing Mich’s transformation.
It is clear that it also gives me a chance to let go and to continue again as originally as possible.
The water will also fall again, the branches will find their way and eventually decay. On the trees, from the wound, new fresh green will grow again.
AWAKENING
Friday 4 November 2016
It is autumn again. The leaves are falling. Nature releases all its ballast, it lets go of what it no longer needs. The plants and animals withdraw.
And me? I am slowly waking up from my bubble. This protection is beginning to fade. My physical eyes see that he is truly no longer here! Wherever I look, however long I wait, he no longer walks through the door. My inner eyes see that he has let go, he is free. The bubble gave me a state of “being”, I was emptiness, I was pain, I was abandoned and I was sadness. My body is now beginning to feel, it feels pain, it feels emptiness, it feels abandonment, it has to cry. My eyes are now wide open, my body is awake. Just like this autumn, I will have the strength to let go and be free. Consume what was, digest what was, implement what was and take with me what was.
A clear shift within my grieving process. The bubble was like a mother’s womb, now I am being released……..
FLEETING LIFE
29 April 2017
2 years ago we heard that Mich was incurably ill and our first grandchild was born.
Time flies, you think then.
Suddenly I realise very clearly that as a human being you always live in 2 time zones.
Time measured in time is fleeting. It is “nothing” — 1, 10, 100, 1000 years etc. A life is a drop in the ocean of time.
During life, time actually stands still. You experience everything, and much lies ahead.
In 15 years then….
Long ago then….
You experience this as eternity.
At the same time you experience that time flies by.
Looking back at these photos I experience both.
Time is fleeting, stands still….. and flies past me.
5 July 2017
5 July 2015 Michel passed away. Already 2 years ago. It feels like yesterday but so many things have changed again.
Michel was a second-generation victim (second generation syndrome). The war lived in him. The war with life.
Why do I live?
Why must I adapt to society?
Can I trust?
Whom should I consider?
Why?
How?
For what purpose?
Intelligent, funny, witty, sharp-minded, a clown who experienced life as survival.
Impressive that he still lived fully until the last moment, considered his life and gave it a place.
Glad that he is free.....
10 March 2018
Birthday of Mich.
As I sit in heaven
And watch you everyday
I try to let you know with signs
I never went away
I hear you when you’re laughing
And watch you as you sleep
I even place my arms around you
To calm you as you weep
I see you wish the days away
Begging to have me home
So I try to send you signs
So you know you are not alone
Don’t feel guilty that you have
Life that was denied to me
Heaven is truly beautiful
Just you wait and see
So live your life, laugh again
Enjoy yourself, be free
Then I know with every breath you take
You’ll be taking one for me …..
SPACE
26 March 2018
The loss filled me with emptiness. My body translated it as hunger. Soon I realised that food did not take away my hunger/emptiness. A body filled with emptiness uses a great deal of energy. Doing as little as possible, undertaking as little as possible. Of course you cannot avoid doing or undertaking something every now and then, which made me very tired. As quickly as possible back home, to my familiar silence.
Emptiness is not a synonym for loneliness. Emptiness is more something of digesting. Your body has to digest the shock that enters you. In silence and only by breathing deeply could I take away the feeling of hunger. I got used to this feeling until I did not even notice it anymore.
About one and a half months ago, I got up in the morning and noticed immediately that I felt different. I felt space. Yes, SPACE. Strange, I cannot think of another word than space. Energetic and eager for social contacts. Because I was unaware of the fact that I had no space, I became aware of it at the moment it was there.
What happened? How is it possible? The emptiness had filled me and taken away all space. Now apparently the shock has been digested far enough that space has arisen again. Space for new experiences, a new beginning.
5 July 2019
It has been 4 years since Mich passed away. I look at a photo taken on 28 April 2015 in the hospital in Maastricht. We were waiting there for the birth of our first grandchild. At that moment we had already known for 4 days that Mich was seriously ill.
A large part of our personal development we went through together. He lives on in my thoughts.
Life goes on, but presence remains.
A person has a form, a name. Presence is infinite. In the last years I have consciously been able to notice that presence is so much more. It makes life magical.
One thing is certain for me, you cannot plan a life. Setting goals, making plans — nothing wrong with that. Yet you will always have to let go of something again, and be flexible. “Go with the flow”. You really do not map out your own path. It unfolds before you. It makes life beautiful, interesting and mysterious.
Being in the moment. Come on then, let it unfold!!!
My Processing 5 Years Later….
11 March 2020
A grieving process for your beloved lasts forever, I think. It does change. Going through all sorts of stages, a form of acceptance and peace arises. Knowing that gone is not gone. Every day you encounter him in your thoughts, in your children, in shared memories with friends, etc. Also in new events within my family where he is not physically present, but is present nonetheless. The pain becomes less. Every now and then you go through a little grief process, then you feel the pain for a moment. I feel that this will never go away. Life is simply dual, good-bad, beautiful-ugly, pleasant-painful etc. You could say that this grieving process is a very living process.
Then I meet someone from my past. We always had a connection. I live alone, not lonely. The thought of a new partner did not occur to me, and I certainly would not have gone looking for one. Yet suddenly this other person comes into my life.
Do I want to stay alone? Yes or no? That turns out to be quite a struggle. Because how do I create space within myself for a new partner?
Grant myself these new feelings and be gentle with myself.
Acknowledge that the relationship with Mich will always be a part of me. Give it a place in my heart. Talk about it, he may be there every day. I am not closing off the relationship, much healthier, I think, is to ‘take’ the deceased person along in a positive way into the rest of life. He can still be present in shared goals that I now pursue alone.
Only in this way could I ensure that I would not compare a potential partner with Mich. You do not go looking for a replacement, but make room for an entirely new partner. Someone who fits you well in a different way. Someone who touches other aspects of myself.
‘Cherish what has been lost,
celebrate what remains, embrace what comes.’
I entered into a relationship with Ton, a different person than Mich. But actually I myself, through the loss, have also become a different person.
I thought: “So do not expect to pick up your old patterns that you had in your previous relationship.
My new life will be very different. Embrace it, enjoy it. It offers you a view of other facets of life than you knew before. It may well be that you meet another ‘Love of my Life’.”
In the meantime I have been able to experience that this is indeed the case!
Two great loves in one life. How rich and beautiful is that?
The first great Love does not disappear, but it also does not stand in the way of the second great love.
Ton and I have now been together for 2 years. The strange thing is that I can only place that now, it is apparently a very big step. Only now can I find words for it and reconcile it with my relationship with Mich. It is all part of the processing.
5 July 2020
On a day like today you wake up and you know it immediately… it is 5 July. Five years.
Looking at my phone I see on our family app that I am not the only one who knows this right away. For the children this day is also a memento, so deep that it is woven into your entire system.
Max is, due to circumstances, at home for several weeks. Nathan, who has been his friend since kindergarten, is staying here as well. We drink coffee.
The conversation immediately turns to Michel.
“Mum, do you remember that dad spoke such bizarrely many languages? He could start a conversation with anyone, wherever they came from. Dad would always say: just speak your own language, and then he would just go for it. Damn mum, it was almost scary. He had something with that.”
“Yes, indeed, but at the moment he wanted to teach as a lateral-entry teacher, he chose to study mathematics. You would think a language, right? I asked him why on earth mathematics? He then said, because I find that the most difficult. Dad really became a good teacher, Max.”
“Mum, I get that, that’s because he found it difficult himself. Then you know what the children come up against, and you use your own tricks to explain it.”
Michel did not find life easy. He created many tricks to make it pleasant. He had mastered that.
He was, as it were, a MASTER life magician/wizard/artist.
Even though he is no longer here, these memories of him can be a light in the heavy moments that his children may still encounter in their lives.
5 July 2020
Annette feels sad.
5 July 2021
I have no words. It remains difficult to place. The grief for what has been lost.
How did his voice sound?
The children who are a lasting visible memory.
The happiness of now, a completely different life.
It is all there at the same time.
Life is really quantum physics!!!!
So you see, the words do eventually come.
5 July 2022
Today, 7 years ago, we said goodbye to Michel. Our lives have changed.
The children often ask me: “How would dad have reacted to this? What would he think of it? etc.”
At the same time, they themselves know the answer. His presence in his voice and ideas continues to live on.
Every day he is present with me and the children.
Beautiful to be able to experience that.
Our life goes on, always with a Mich-sauce……
5 July 2023
5 July. A day that remains engraved in memory.
Now 8 years ago.
In those years so much has happened again.
How cruel and beautiful? Because time does not stand still.
It simply keeps counting.
This moment stands still only in the hearts of those who loved/love Michel.
5 July 2024
Today it has already been 9 years since Michel passed away. Recently I heard someone say, grief remains.
That is true!!!! Life goes on and grief remains. Fortunately in a very different form/intensity, but it remains part of your life. Certainly not meant dramatically, but truly every day I think of him. It is not disturbing or obsessive, it is simply there as part of my existence.
Recently one of my dearest friends passed away. Also with her I have discovered that she is there every day. It is special to be able to experience that the people you love deeply, with whom you are deeply connected, are so much part of your existence, rather said, of your entire being.
You only notice after the death of loved ones how essentially they are woven into you and remain woven.
In my mind I see a loom. I am the fabric, and they are some coloured threads that are woven along with me (the fabric). Inseparably connected to the fabric.
There are also people in my environment who fall away, who apparently have not become part of me in this way.
Life and death provide insights into my existence, that is magical and I continue to marvel at it.