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I came home this afternoon to find some real bad news in my e-mails. Erik Ostrycharz, one of my best friends has died while playing squash yesterday in Saudi-Arabia where he lived and worked. He was only 46 years old. He leaves behind his wife and two daughters. We met about twenty years ago in Soest, Germany. He was one of the officers of the Belgian 1st Grenadiers Regiment. Almost immediately, we became very close friends and we saw each other on a regular basis.

A couple of years later, he left the army and started working in various countries. I think it was about two years ago that he got an offer he couldn’t refuse to go working somewhere in Saudi-Arabia. Only last week, I was thinking of him and I wanted to give him a phonecall to chat a little bit. Unfortunately, something came up, and I forgot to call him. Stupid me. Now I can never call him anymore.

I called his widow immediately after I heard the bad news. She’s getting on a plane to Saudi-Arabia tomorrow morning, in order to go and collect the body, hoping the Saudis will let her take him with her. Apparently everything goes pretty slow over there.

While I am thinking back, I can’t recall when we met for the last time. It must have been while I was still living in Belgium, so it must have been somewhere in 2002 or early 2003. Despite that fact, we kept in touch, calling each other every now and then, and writing each other e-mails. But we kept close, very close. Damned, why do these things happen?

One thing is sure: I will never forget Erik. I will always remember him as a very enthusiastic, optimistic person who was always willing to reach out and help each and everybody when it was necessary. He was always ready to work very hard and professionally, but as soon as the job was done, he was ready to party as well. It is said that a person has got less than five really good friends. Today, I have lost one of those five.

Erik, buddy, Cher Ancien, rest in peace.

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