Dear Manuela,

Of course we heard the news. About you and the scooter accident. And yes, that you were in a coma. But somehow, with the Christmas rush, vacation, you faded back into the background again. Also because there was a feeling somewhere that: ‘That Manuela, she'll bounce back.’ I could already see you in my mind a year from now portrayed in a beautiful interview about the accident, the fall, and the climb that followed. You would tell what it had brought you. Because if you are anything, you are an optimist. Always looking for the shiny edge of the dark cloud.

“We will have to let her go.”

I expected that. Manuela who had also overcome this and would again give color to life with hair as exuberant as your spirit.
But that is not the case.
“That the part that makes a person a person and Moon thus Moon is gone.” So beautifully formulated your beloved to the press. “We will have to let her go.”
And with that, that everything-will-be-okay dream shattered in an instant. We have to get used to the fact that your loved ones will let you go. And we, therefore, that we will never see you again. Not at De Vrienden van Amstel, not somewhere with your special friends Xandra Brood, Zygia Jongbloed, or Louise Schiffmacher. Women for whom you mean so much. For Xandra's children, you are like a second mother, I understood. The woman full of zest for life is almost gone. The door to above, I hope so, that there is an above, is ajar.

Dear Manuela, I once visited your house. It was an explosion of colors, warmth. A friend was staying there who needed temporary shelter. He had his own fridge. It was full of cans of beer. You found that funny.

Dear Manuela, you are all the colors and soon, within a very, very, very short time, all those colors will turn black. Pitch black.

I wish you love and strength to you and your loved ones,

May