A vibrant farewell
First days of June 1990. Etienne is hospitalized, I will visit the clinic. I get in a good mood, he seems happy with the visit. A few days ago began Roland Garros, on TV there is a match and we watch as we speak. I tell him that I will travel to the US with my son, Sebastian, who at that time was 5 years old, to visit my father to meet his grandson.
That evening we talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flows, follows its own course. Etienne told me zen, dojo, of this or that person, talking about Argentina, about my life before going to live in France, he told me about his recent trip to Budapest, we talked about my son, of his own, talked about tennis.
Almost no talk about his illness. I knew how bad it was, the sensitivity of their status, but it was obvious he did not want it to be a visit to a sick person. I was sad, but I held my sadness. I knew that my visit was a farewell, but it was a lively visit, a farewell full of life.
Just as I was leaving he said: I here in this bed and so close to Roland Garros, as I would be there.
It was the last time I saw him, I came to the United States on June 7 and the next day I received the news of his death. I lit incense and sat in zazen.
Sunday, 25 years later, I'm going to do the same, I joined all around the world to sit in zazen, light incense in your memory or simply remember in silence.