Gone Forever Dear Vaclav Havel

This comment will have to be in English. Vaclav Havel, my boss in the years 1991 to 1996 passed away this past Sunday. I have been going over so many moments in my mind since this last Advent Sunday that I could fill a small novel. The first time I shook your hand... It was in the summer of 1991 and it was a Wednesday, a day all the staff at the Presidential Office were allowed to wear casual clothes. I was visiting Eda Kriseova in her office on the 3rd floor, hidden from all the tumultous events a few floors below. The President had a habit, which was to make unexpected Wednesday visits across the Presidential Office, and nobody ever knew when and where he would show up. Well, that particular day he showed up on that third floor and I happened to be there. That was the beginning of a long and lovely friendship. My hand was sweaty, my voice timid, and I probably did not know what to say, so Eda spoke in my place. But it did not matter. There were many times abroad, when I accompanied you, and we never spoke. Silence was our guest and we both enjoyed it. For a brief moment you could take a brake from all the voices and faces and just be alone for a few precious minutes. I was just guiding you physically in the right direction. And I did so with pride and joy for almost five years. I know you are watching us now, enjoying the last moments we offer you, with the parade and honours that become you. With all the absurdities taking place that I will not mention not to spoil this writing moment. I send you a kiss to heaven and hope you are doing well.