I recently came across the idea that e-motion Is energy in motion...

And let me tell you, right now, I totally subscribe to it. Yep, moving it is. All over the place. 

I am back at my dad’s place, with my sister Veronique. Just like a year ago, when we both flew over from Australia to Belgium because dad was dying. He did not, and we had six precious weeks together, good times and bad times. As happens when you spend more than a few days living in your parent's world. 

With papa and Veronique in November 2018.

This time, papa is not with us. He left on December 16, and we are back here, in this house that feels like home, to dismantle his labours of love. 

The old Val Saint-Lambert manse at Seraing.

Papa bought the house when he was seventy-five years old. Since his divorce in the late eighties, he had rented hodge podge spaces or lived in sisters or lovers homes, always yearning for a house he could call his own again. Ten years ago, he finally found his ideal house. The place was the Val Saint Lambert ‘s church old manse. 

A little more than a shelf. The amount of work he did on it, in his quirky and sometimes seriously out there ways, like when he cleaned the facade with a wire brush, hanging out of windows ten meters above the ground, is remarkable. Check the photo above!! He was eighty when he did it!

Trash and treasure

Now that he has gone, we, like everyone who has lost parents and family home, must let go of years of memories, ours and his, and make room for the new. 

We sift through years of accumulated trash and treasures, this to the bin, this to the opshop, this to sell online, this to come home to the other side of the world with us. 

The tide of flotsam and jetsam that we try to contain in a 30 kilo, two suitcases space ebbs and flows. 

"This is coming", I say, looking at the huge lamp that is my bedroom-office companion and the embodiment of that feeling of home. 

"It has to", my heart adds.

Yet it has no place to call its own in our Australian Natimuk cottage. The rooms are half the size of this bedroom, the ceilings lower. It would look like Gulliver in Liliput. 

I will have to make do with a picture of it, a framed ghost of a feeling that will hover on the wall in my tiny Natimuk office.

As I write the words of my sensible decision, e-motion bursts forth, my letting go shines through a curtain of tears, and the rainbow of gratitude and thanks for all the love and all the pain that comes with it becomes its own reward.

Merci papa..

Vero, Pascal, Marc-Antoine, Theresa, papa. Aperitif time at papa's place.


If you like my writing, you can enjoy it early by subscribing! 

You can also buy my ebook, The Wind in my Hair  ($5.95)

If you feel like spending time together and experiencing a different way of life, I lead treks each year to a small community in Nepal.  In fact, I am in the slow process of making a doco series on how going to Lura changed my and the local people's life. More info on that at www.beyondthesmile.net 


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