“It’s okay if you get married”
MONDAY, August 9 – Night has fallen, but we’re wide awake and restless. In the moonlight the waters of Lake George continue to roll restlessly. On the small pier in front of the hotel we see three comfortable chairs and we accept the invitation.
We realize that we’re tired and ready to call it a day – to leave the country we still regard as our fatherland, but Amsterdam is our home, even though we speak English there. Her and their native language. Even I find it easier to express my emotions in this language.
‘I smile a lot more,’ Eamonn says, as we attempt to draw up the balance. Things are improving. It’s not all good, but it’s better. A lot better, in fact. I remind Eamonn of the moment when he declared that he would never be able to have fun again. ‘So things actually can get better,’ I say.
Sander agrees. ‘Things feel right. We’re starting to get over it.’
I have no desire to undermine, qualify or feed his optimism. I leave it at that. Sitting here, on the pier, we can take on the whole world.
‘You know what, Papa? I’d understand if you and C got married.’
‘Watch what you’re saying,’ I laugh.
‘No, I mean in a year or so. That would be all right.’
‘Thank you, Sander.’
Eamonn has something to say, and requests the floor.
But first: ‘Papa, you mustn’t put this in your book. Not yet.’
I give him my word.
Then he tells us what he’s planning to do in a little over two months, what he wanted to do last May, but couldn’t. What he’ll do later. Sander and I are deeply impressed. On one condition, he says: that we do it together. Sounds like a great plan.
And one thing is clear: We’re doing well. Very well, indeed.