Crying for Viggo

If you used to ask who you wanted to date, you would say Viggo Waas. Because handsome, smart, nice Amsterdammer, sporty, well-dressed, surrounded by nice friends (and loyal in his friendships) and also funny. Viggo had that unattainable ‘je ne sais quoi’. Even when you got older and were rarely happy yourself, he remained at the top of the list of known nice men. Because he was different. And independent.

I hadn't seen Viggo for a while. Now I know why. It happened somewhere last year in March. Just suddenly. He fell to the ground and thought: maybe this is it. Maybe I'm going to die now. People asked if they should call an ambulance and he wanted to say ‘yes!’ but nothing came out of his mouth. Fortunately, he was surrounded by decisive types. Quick, that ambulance had to come. And thank God the hospital was nearby. Despite all the misery, Viggo still had the wind at his back. Recovering was difficult. Heavy. And when the pipe was allowed out of his mouth, he said: ‘This is going to be long and heavy.’

Yesterday he was at Humberto. He only joined after the commercial break, otherwise it would have been too heavy. Peter Heerschop was already there, a safety net for his friend.

‘Are you nervous?’ Humberto asked when Viggo was at the table. ‘A little bit,’ Viggo had replied. He didn't know what the emotions would do to him. With his voice for example.

Viggo told his story, occasionally supported by Peter Heerschop with the medical explanation from Erik Scherder, who precisely explained what had happened in Viggo's head.

I kept looking at Viggo. At his gray hair, which probably doesn't bother him at all. No dandy who wants to sweep the time off his sidewalk. Just a real man who lets life go. Freshly washed and with nice short hair. However, his thumb and index finger kept going to his earlobe. He would pinch it for a moment. I keep thinking about that.

Image: RTL, Humberto