Marco and the Bond That Remains

My love for my son changed shape after his death, but it did not disappear from my life.

IF — What if…?

My Son and My Friend

No question in my life has become as deep as the question of what love means when someone dies. Since Marco’s death on 27 August 2009, I have carried that question every day. The answer did not come in a single sentence. It grew in memories, in longing and in the feeling that our bond could not simply disappear from my life.

Marco and I regularly went to Scherpenheuvel together. We would light a candle there. That simple gesture brought together silence, hope and closeness.

Our Shared Curiosity

Today, I cannot think of that place without also feeling his presence in my memory. Later, through a medium, I received two handwritten texts that took on a very personal meaning for me. I regard them as part of my experience and of my lasting connection with Marco. Their value for me lies not only in the words, but also in the moment they reached me and in what I recognised in them.

Together to Scherpenheuvel

I often feel that Marco helps me write my books. Perhaps that help lives in my memory of our conversations, perhaps in the love that keeps driving me forward, perhaps in a way for which I have no words. For me, that question does not have to be closed. IF leaves the door open.

After a farewell, love can take another form. It can become visible in what we preserve, pass on and try to mean to others.

A Candle in Silence

When I write, I speak with my own voice, but I also carry something of Marco with me. When I write about him, I seek room for the whole person he was. The absence belongs to my life, but so do the collaboration, the ideas and the curiosity we shared. My love for him encompasses more than the moment when we had to say goodbye.

That is where a bridge lies between memory and presence.

The Two Handwritten Texts

A memory can lead to a conversation with his daughters, to preserving a photograph or to paying attention to someone who is missing a loved one too. In that way, a bond from the past continues to shape how I try to live today. The spiritual meaning I give it remains personal. Even someone who does not share my belief can understand how important it is for a loved one to keep a name and a story.

Writing With Marco in Mind

We can meet on that human ground without agreeing on every explanation. As I reach the final page, my thoughts return to the people with whom this story began. My parents, who left their familiar world behind. Dorina, with whom I have shared a life.

Marco and Michael, who gave me the privilege of being a father. My grandchildren, my family and the friends who stayed beside me along the way. I have not found an answer to every question about life and death.

Love After Goodbye

But I do know how much one person can mean to another. Love does not have to explain everything to sustain us. Sometimes it is a hand on a shoulder, a memory we preserve together or the courage to be there for someone again after a difficult day. Marco, your place in my heart remains.

Going on with life does not mean leaving you behind. It means carrying what we shared into caring for those who are still here.

The Bridge Remains Open

Michael and my grandchildren also have their own irreplaceable place in that love. To you who have read this book, I therefore want above all to say this: do not wait too long to tell someone you love them. Listen, seek one another out and pass on the memories that would otherwise be lost. If these pages open a conversation, comfort someone or set a small act of love in motion, their meaning lives on.

The gold with which this book began, I place at the end once more with the people who have carried my life. With my parents, Dorina, Marco and Michael, my grandchildren and all those who shared their warmth with us. Their love and courage are the riches I want to pass on. To them belongs the gold of these pages.

I close this book with gratitude. In the name of all my people. Renato

IF — What if…?
How does love for someone absent live on in your daily life?