Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • In two days, it will be exactly one year ago that you sneaked out. It was an involuntarily goodbye. Just two weeks before, you were diagnosed with liver cancer. We did not even have enough time to let that message sink in.

    You were admitted in a hospital in Paris. The city where you found love and a new home. After many years traveling back and fro every week from Amsterdam to Paris, you had finally found a new job in the City of Lights. The world smiled upon you. For just a brief moment.

    You died exactly one month short of your 39th birthday. Leaving us behind, unwilling to believe, broken.
    So much still had to be done, said, discovered and even suffered. But all of that was not meant to be.

    In two days, it will be exactly one year ago that you left us. And I will leave flowers on your last resting place.

    Rest in peace, my little brother.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.