Transcendental

Thursday 14 June evening

I have been sitting in the living room all day, curtains closed, keeping Lara company, working on my laptop. I had to be home if I wanted to catch the city coroner (le medecin-legiste) who was scheduled to pass by at an unspecified hour to do a 15 second survey verifying that Lara was truly dead and that the funeral parlor had observed all the legal rules for the handling of corpses. The visit produces a document and without that document Lara cannot be transported to Uccle tomorrow morning. That in turn would mean two impossible options: either having her stay over the weekend in a non-A/C apartment; or moving her to the city morgue and make her share the company of traffic victims, drug addicts and sundry dead criminals. So it was crucial that I stayed put and waited.

Afterwards I really need a break and I go run a few errands. It turns out I was not the only one who needed a break. Lara was apparently fed up with lying on her catafalque all day as well and decided to do some out of bodywork. 

What happened?

My son and his wife (Bouke and Merel) live in my hometown, Breda, about 100 kilometers North of Brussels. They are parents to our granddaughter Madelief (Daisy), who, at fourteen months, happens to be an early speaker. At about 6:30 PM today, Merel is changing diapers on her daughter, and as babies do, madelief looks left right and center, lolling her head. Then all of a sudden, the baby stops and clearly focuses on something or someone behind Merel, to the side of her. The baby keeps her gaze fixed on it. So the mother, without turning her head asks what her daughter is looking at? To her astonishment, Madeliefje says: "Lara".

Maybe that was the sign Lara wanted to give after her safe arrival 'on the other side'?