7500 kilometers

Five years ago I drove to Utrecht. Not a long trip from Arnhem, even for Dutch standards. My small car was fully packed with my synth, an amplifier, two speakers, a stand, way too many cables and a binder with sheet music of a medley of an artist I never heard about before. My uncle with his wife and sister on the accordion, my brother on his sax and I arrived 30 minutes earlier to hook my gear on time. Practice session for my dad’s 60th birthday.

My aunt and uncle played for as long as I can remember. I just started when we played together for the first time. It was my grandfather’s birthday, and of course everyone was in, and I think even my niece on the trumpet. Even when I was just a kid, I could notice my aunt was in charge. Handing out the sheet music, arranging the parts and helping me out to find the proper settings on my synth. But my uncle played the bass parts. And a band knows that when you play, the bass leads.

I enjoyed being with them, my mother’s oldest brother and his wife. Arguing during practice, but it was clear they were still very much in love. Walking hand in hand and sparkling eyes when looking at each other. I can only hope my wife and I are still like that at their age.

We were 7500 kilometers away from Utrecht when my mom called he had a heart attack. And it felt even further away when I heard he passed away last week. My uncle, with his accordion, in my mind inseparable from my aunt, taken away in an instant. I doubt it would feel any more real when I was closer to home. I’m going to mis him.