Lent

Lent just started, the time of year for reflection. I guess that is what it means to me. Lent is a time of taking less, in every respect, of restraint. For me it also is the time when I think of Boudewijn. He was my colleague for almost ten years, and though in some ways I got to know him very well, in other I never really got close to him.

I remember when I first met Boudewijn. The company I worked for had just started out, and was located in a house near a canal. The downstairs room wasn't really in use, there were a couple of desks upstairs with some computers and a printer. I worked there for two days a week as a secretary, just so that I had a steady income while I worked as a free lance journalist for the local paper. I had to answer the telephone, do some data entry work and some secretarial work. The company consisted of a director and two part time employees, but most days I wouldn't see anyone. Then Boudewijn became involved, and he came to inspect me, obviously curious. He gradually became more involved with the company and helped build it to a great extent. He was committed, dedicated and very clever. He worked many more hours than he was paid for, he was always keen to devise new systems and work on new ways of solving problems. And he was creative, so he always managed to come up with these new solutions.

Over the years I became more involved with the company myself, I started working more hours and got many more responsibilities. I started working on projects, and more closely with Boudewijn. He taught me the things I needed to know, and took me with him to meet the people we worked for. Often that would mean travelling down to the various Dutch airports, because the work involved environmental research for airports.

He was passionate about his work, but equally passionate about his music, he played trombone in a band, and about playing golf. He was very upset when he lost his swing for a while. I once went to see his band play at an open air fair and was both surprised and not surprised. Every inch of him was put into the music, and his passion became visible, but in the end it was the same passion he put into his work. I talked to him after the concert, and he was complaining that no one wanted to go in the big roundabout swing with him, so I volunteered. Unfortunately we were just too late, the fair was closing down. That is something I regret.

I always felt Boudewijn lived for the full 200%, and I think he did. We didn't get to talk about personal matters very often, but we did spend a couple of days together counting houses near Groningen Airport. After spending all day together in the car we went out to a Greek restaurant for dinner, and talked about things close to our heart. It is one of those days that I will always remember and that will always be special to me. Just as I remember an asparagus dinner near Eindhoven airport.

What I didn't realise until later was the "black thread" that was always a part of him. When he reached the point where work, and maybe other things, weren't enough anymore he couldn't go on and he ended his life. I remember being very sad, but I also remember being at peace with that from the very moment I heard about it. I had already left the company, but was still in touch with him, and I never doubted his decision. I had such faith in him.

This it the time of year I remember him most because he was in the habit of observing Lent. Not because he was religious, but because he thought of it as a time for reflection, a time of restraint. He had a strict list of exactly what you could or could not eat during those 6.5 weeks, and he would stick to the list no matter what. You could always watch him grow thinner and grumpier, but it was important to him. He wanted to make sure he would stay physically fit and he liked the idea of restraint. For a couple of years I joined him and found out how hard it was, but also how rewarding it was.

I do still miss him sometimes, and when I see a similar looking man on the street I will always think "It's Boudewijn", with a sense of joy, before I realise it cannot be. I guess that means that "The Man is Alive" in some way, and I remember him with great fondness.