In the next few weeks, you can't switch channels on Belgian television without being confronted with the images of Music For Life. The pain I feel every time I see the glass house is almost physical. It reminds me too much of a hospital room in December 2008 where Inigo and Jolien were recovering from surgery.
Inigo, our son, had his port-a-kath removed. It was a joyful day, because it meant: no more chemotherapy! Jolien, in the other bed in the recovery room, was a 16 year old girl who had beaten the same type of cancer (Osteosarcoma) at the age of 12 (the age Inigo had when he was diagnosed with this aggressive cancer). With cancer, you have to wait five years before you can claim your victory. Unfortunately for Jolien, the cancer returned after four years. In December 2008, Jolien had surgery to remove a new tumor from her lungs.
We were all in the same room, Jolien, her parents, Inigo, my wife and I, watching the live broadcasts of Music For Life. You could feel the hope: let's hope the ordeal is over, let's hope next year we'll be able to continue with our normal life.
Little did we know that Jolien wouldn't be here anymore to see this year's Music For Live edition.
I'll be relieved when Music for Life is over, not because I don't give a shit, but because it reminds me too much that we're not in the clear yet. We're still counting the years...