...You came home to the Netherlands regularly, catching up with friends and family. Many people used to ask me: Don’t you miss your son since he is living so far away? I would point at my heart at say that you never felt far away.
We had frequent FaceTime meetups and WhatsApp chats. And when you were back in The Netherlands, you stayed in your old room, and we could pamper you like we always did. Over the years, our bond became stronger and stronger, and you shared your thoughts, plans and you would also, occasionally, ask my advice. I shared my admiration for you in a birthday card for your 27th birthday: “The way you think about life fills me with pride and gratitude. For sure, you are a wiser person than I was at your age. And at age 60, I can still learn from your social insight.”
Your success at your jobs, both at Enterprise Rent-A-Car and at AyaHealthcare amazed me. You excelled, both at business administration (the numbers-part) and at management (the people-part). You were well liked and respected, as is also evident by the immense support that we as a family have received from Aya since the day you died.
And then, on August 3, 2023, I experienced the greatest shock of my life. Completely out of the blue, for me, for Ferko, for family and friends, you had a psychotic breakdown that also involved the use of drugs. You survived, thanks to our caring neighbors, the Utrecht police, and good medical care. You spent three weeks on the acute psychiatric ward of our university hospital, where I visited you every day. We went on long walks and you shared what you had experienced. It was clear to me that your Dad had played a prominent role; it felt as if you were searching for him.
You told us you had had a Near Death Experience, which appeared to awaken your interest in spirituality. You had seen that everything in this world comes from a source of love, and that this is what all of the world religions are about. You shared your experiences of feeling closer to nature, and they were authentic and meaningful.
Already in the hospital, you were making plans for the future with your friend and business partner Kofi as well as travel plans for trips with friends. In agreement with your treatment team in Utrecht, you returned to Las Vegas, and started twice a week psychotherapy. You promised to not use drugs and to keep in close contact with us as parents, which you did.
What exactly happened to you in our home in Utrecht and in your home in Las Vegas will remain a mystery forever. Was there an underlying bipolar disorder that brought out extreme and impulsive behavior in you? Did the drugs cause a mix of psychotic mania and spiritual awakening? We will never know.
You left this Earth in a flash of lightning, and I am still shaking. Yet, I also know that you are at peace now, and guiding me from another dimension, as you always have. My love for you and your love for me have transformed me during your time here on this Earth. I am forever grateful to you for this. May you rest in peace, my dearest Julian.

Spoken words at Julian’s farewell- October 30th, 2023

I want to start my speech with an excerpt from the book The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, as he speaks of Children.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

If someone had told me 6 months ago that I would be standing here today, giving a eulogy for the person that is closest to my heart, I would have surely shaken my head in disbelief. This happened much too soon and much too quickly for me, as well as for the many loved ones of Julian. I cannot thank you enough for being here with us today and for all your support during the past weeks. All of your warmth and love from people near and far, have eased our immense sorrow.
My dearest Julian, from the moment I first looked into your eyes, I felt this immense, overwhelming love for you. You made me a mother and because of you, I learned about motherly love. I remember asking my Advaita Vedanta guru Alexander Smit, if motherhood could be a gateway to discovering Universal Love, if it could be a door to realize your True Self. And he said: “Yes, that is possible. “
You were endearing as a child and you displayed a natural curiosity about the world around you. You were gentle, loving and kind. When another child, who was a bit younger than you got hurt and cried, you would stop your play and try to comfort.
My insecurity as a newbie mother was greatly reduced by having your Dad by my side, who already had the experience of parenting Raechel. To my great sadness, when you were three, your Dad and I separated. I know this hurt you very much, as it did me. Your Dad and I were caring co-parents and did our best to make you feel very much at home in both our houses. Still, you told me this past August, after your first mental health crisis, that it took you many years to heal from this.
Misfortune hit you once again at the end of 2005, when your Dad was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. The year-and-a half that followed was the most difficult time of your young life. Before going to sleep, while we were snuggled up next to each other in your bunk bed, you would always ask me: “Is everything okay?” And then, often fighting against my own tears, I would say: “Yes, everything is okay”. Of course, I wanted everything to be okay for you; I wanted you to go asleep without fear and worries. But we were both helpless.
Your Dad died in July of 2007. You played guitar at his funeral; you were so brave through it all. When you developed symptoms of depression in the year after his passing, you entered therapy with Marieke Beekman at Altrecht, to process your traumatic memories and your grief. Ferko became my partner back in 2004, and together we tried to help you in every way we could, to make a warm nest for you at Schillerlaan 5. Lots of your friends from high school had overnight stays and/or dinner at our home. You were legend as the organizer of many parties at our home and as the person who could easily get Ferko to drive you and your friends to disco parties in Bunnik or Rotterdam. You played baseball at Domstad Dodgers and you had guitar lessons.
After graduating from high school, you took a gap year, during which you gained work experience in different places. Your long-held wish to go to university in the US became reality in August 2013. You were so lucky to be accepted at San Diego State University, your first choice, so you could live close to Grandpa Joe and Grandma Joanie. When I asked you why you were only applying to one university, whereas most American high school graduates apply to many more, you said you did not like having a ‘Plan B’, because that meant you did not really believe in your Plan A. This type of focus turned out to be one of your signature traits.
While you lived in the US, I tried to visit you as often as I could. I have so many fond memories of you introducing me to your fraternity brothers, having dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s, visiting Balboa Park, walking the streets of beautiful La Jolla, and chatting in the California sunshine in Grandma’s beautiful garden. You also came home to the Netherlands regularly, catching up with friends and family. Many people used to ask me: Don’t you miss your son since he is living so far away? I would point at my heart at say that you never felt far away.