Dear Bibian,
We don't know each other, but I want to say ‘dear’ and something inside me tells me that you appreciate that. Just like you appreciate almost everything. Or okay. Or at least if it's not good, you look for what could be good about it. So dear. Dear Bibian.
How was it writing that Instagram post, knowing it would be your last? Are you growing towards that? Do you still look at the reactions? Does your husband Edwin keep you updated or do your children whisper the number of hearts and sweet reactions to you?
I imagine a bit how it is for you now. I think of a large white bed, a tidy room, many pillows, your children and your husband around you gently touching you, inhaling your scent. Perhaps stories are being told. Perhaps there is silence. But above all, I think there is peace. Peace because you are that. You are an angel on earth. Not angry about what has happened to her, but rowing with the oars that are still there. Or if necessary, hitting a piece of wood from a tree to keep going. No didn't exist, giving up neither. That's why you went from the Olympic Games to the Paralympics and put your beloved snowboarding sport on the map.
Do you know what I can only think about? About your big son, on your lap in the wheelchair while you gently stroke his back under his shirt. I wish you many more of those moments in these days.
With love, May-Britt
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