It's good to talk

I rode the train to Leiden today, the city where I used to study. Only a ten minute train ride, and it felt like I was commuting to school again. I walked around, and nothing much has changed. The same canals, shops (though some have closed down...), same sort of people walking around in the streets and alleyways.

I had meant to go to the library and get some work done, but I met up with a friend for lunch, and library went unvisited. There is always tomorrow.

This is a special friend, who first was my boss, and then became a mentor and guide. She paved my path to Canada, to the study that I'm currently doing, and now and then I see her at conferences and events. I'm forever grateful to have met her, for it was because of her that I managed to go as far as I am now, to get the scholarships I enjoy now.

A week ago she suddenly sent me an email. In it she told me about her sister, who was very close to her, and who had suddenly passed away. I was shocked when I read that, partly because my friend Carmen had just passed away, but also partly because only a few years earlier, my friend had lost her dear brother. It must been such a terrible blow to her and to her family, I thought...

We met at a restaurant, and by the time we stood up again it was some three hours later. She shared with me stories of her sister, her childhood, and we bonded over our feelings of losing people dear. It's good to talk (to borrow from the slogan of a BT ad), to share human experiences and emotions of mourning, of picking up the pieces again, and of moving on with life and work.

I told her about my life in the past few months, the life of moving around, travelling from country to country in attempts to spend time with precious people in my life. I admitted to her that I felt ashamed about not being productive, that my thesis and work had stalled because of unfortunate circumstances. And she threw a piece of sugar cube at me.

Nonesense, she said, it takes time to deal with all the emotional baggage you had to deal with so early in your life. It takes the right frame of mind to write, to be inspired. Family is important, and mum especially so.

I felt much better after we goodbye, and made my way home.