If you consulted the astrological charts, ours was a match made in heaven that could have become a legendary romance for the ages. Instead, we became the best of friends and soulmates that only a handful of people knew about, a pure, honest, open friendship where the communication was direct, constant, unconventional, unconditional and without hesitation. It all began May 2022 when he came on-board to our project and we quickly fell into a comfortable banter through the office intranet chat. Being of similar ages and generation, there were a lot of springboards that we could identify with pertaining to the 1970s, 80s and the unforgettable 90s that cemented our taste for music.
As time passed and work took over our lives, the chatter intensified and we supported one another throughout the day and through the rough months that followed. We were both out-of-the-box thinkers, unconventional problem-solvers that understood one another without any need for a lengthy explanation or justification. We just did. Right after Christmas last year the conversations transcended work and we discovered our common love for literature and philosophy, so we had lengthy conversations about books and existentialism, two middle-aged people trying to uncover their individual purpose in this world, refusing to be confined by the social norms and desiring more than anything to belong but never be tied down. He introduced me to Dutch novelists and in turn I introduced him to some of my favourite contemporary crime writers. With both our reading lists growing as well as the workload, we wondered how and and when we would ever get around to tackling the lists.
Birds of the same feather flock together as the old adage goes, and after-work rants became a common thing, which later spilled into the weekends, through constant text and voice messages, and evening conversations. He shared his innermost thoughts and musings, and I sent my writings and photos and responded in kind with the life musings. There was very little we couldn’t talk about and enjoyed a good political debate, trashing some of the latest European politicians (I had to brush up on Dutch politics and he on German). He was brutally frank but also a damn good listener, one of the few who truly listened and knew how to read emotions between the lines. At the end of the day and each conversation we had our beloved spiel of wishing each other good night, good rest, and sweet dreams.
Peter was a creature of habit, which endeared him to so many in Loule. I asked him once why he never had breakfast at home, and instead went every morning at 7:00 to his favourite paderia near his flat for a bread roll and a two cups of coffee. The people there know me, and I know them, they watch out for me, and if I am late, they worry. So it makes me feel as though I belong to the community, even though there is often a language barrier, but it is familiar, comforting. This became the inspiration for my recent blog, Finding Your Tribe. Lunch from Monday to Friday was a tomato and cheese sandwich, no digressions and no compromises. The exception was Saturdays, when he had a favourite Brazilian fish place he went to for grilled salmon and steamed vegetables, or sushi on payday. Dinner, no matter what day of the week, always began with a glass of red wine and conversation with whoever sought him out. I usually got a running commentary throughout the entire conversation, which was much better than any television show I could have watched. He had a soft spot for lonely senior citizens, no matter how quirky they were, and more often than not that led him to some unforgettable adventures. One day he left me a message saying Today I spent the evening with the local funerario (undertaker) and I discussed my plans with him. I immediately demanded an explanation for that sentence and received his adorable laughter and cackle, with an apology for the construction of that sentence. Don’t worry, I have no intention of leaving this life anytime soon, you and I are going to set up a great business!
Our days began and ended with each other, with good morning messages between 06:45-7:00 and the good night routine at 21:00. During the day, even after I left the company, this continued and it was as if we were still working together. If he did overtime work at night, I kept him company and wrote. During the past two months two business concepts grew and solidified, and ten days ago I asked him to be my CFO and business strategist, taking over the financials that I don’t want to handle.
Wednesday, December 13, 2023, 19:00 – we were both online again, he to do overtime work and I kept him company by writing and editing photos. He loved my writing and look forward to each new blog I churned out or wanted to know how the book was progressing. Being full of adventure and stories, more often than not he provided an idea or a twist to a plot that I hand’t thought about, which I found invaluable.
Wednesday, December 13, 2023, 22:01 – he sent me his good night voice message and wished me sweet dreams.
Thursday, December 14, 2023 – there was no good morning message, which was cause for concern from the man who clung to his routine and valued the connection we had as much as I did. I woke up feeling strange and disoriented, thinking my blood pressure was wonky. I had an uneasy feeling throughout the day, and as time passed and I didn’t receive a single message, the worry grew. I assumed he had trouble with his phone somehow, but wondered why he didn’t send me a message through other means as he did on other occasions.
Friday, December 15, 2023 – Peter was officially missing, from work and otherwise. The race to find him escalated through the day and I contacted the hospital in Loule to find out if he was there, which they confirmed he was not. I frantically left emails, voice messages, text messages, not knowing how and where to find him. At 21:20 I received the devastating news that my beloved friend had passed away on Thursday morning. Because he was such a fixture at the cafe, when he failed to appear that morning two people went over to his apartment and forced the door open. He had suffered a heart attack at some point during the night.
The irony of it all was that we had this wonderful friendship and connection, and had never met in person, and yet I am utterly shattered. I woke up this morning feeling as though I was in a Nicholas Sparks novel or even Robert James Waller, where one of the main characters meets a tragic end. It reminded me of another one of our long existential conversations about the purpose of certain people in our lives. I share the following with him:
“People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed or just felt. They have come to assist you through a hard time, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. Then, suddenly, the person disappears from your life. Your need has been met; their work is done.
Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share or grow or give back. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They give you great joy. Believe it; it is real. But only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons—things you must build upon to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all your other relationships.”
Think about the people in your life over the years. Whether they were there for a reason, a season or a lifetime, accept them and treasure them for however long they were meant to be part of your life.
And when they are gone, be thankful for the gifts you received from them when they were here—for a reason, a season or a lifetime.”
I was numb last night when I was told about his passing, and it was only this morning that the tears began to flow. I played one of his good morning messages as soon as I woke up, refusing to believe that I would never hear them live again, or to accept that he will not be showing up for Christmas at the Shire to join our little group as we had planned. Peter gave me a reason, brightened up the season he was in my life, and left me with memories and a voice for a lifetime.
Good night Peter, sweet dreams and sleep well.
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The Baby Boomers Band based in Berlin Germany lost our funky special one of a kind talented Afro-American drummer. Your article touches so well the complexities of having someone dear to us suddenly depart and how one attempts living on without them.
Thank you for your spot on insight.
The Taoist say „We are born from a quite sleep and that at death, we slip into a calm awakening“ Chuang Tzu
Thank you for your kind words Jeffrey. I remember your talented drummer well and fondly, having first met you all in Bremen for the first time. We all grieve at our pace but move forward we must.
Best regards