Chapter 36 Michael Chose His Own Path
No two children are ever the same. Nor do they need to be. Every child has a character of his own. His own dreams. His own way of looking at life. When people speak to me about my children, the conversation often begins with Marco. That is understandable. His life and death left an indelible mark on my heart and on this book.
But that must never give the impression that Michael holds a less important place in my life. He too is my son. His place in my heart is also unique. And his story also deserves to be told with the same love and sincerity. Michael always chose his own path. His character was different from his brother’s.
While Marco constantly sought new challenges and dreamed of building companies and projects himself, Michael chose a life that offered him more structure and stability.
That choice required no less courage. Quite the opposite. It takes courage to follow your own path without allowing yourself to be guided by the expectations of others. As his father, I always admired that quality in him. I never wanted to shape my children in my own image. I did not want them to repeat my life.
I wanted only for them to become honest people. People capable of carrying responsibility. Who would move through life with respect. And who would feel free to make their own choices. After studying at the hotel school in Hasselt, Michael chose a career in aviation. He became a flight attendant with Sabena.
I quickly sensed that he had found a world that suited him. He came into contact with people from different countries and cultures. He traveled to places that, for many others, were only names on a map.
Every journey broadened his horizons. Every encounter taught him something new. The world became his field of work. But more importantly… he had chosen that path himself. I watched him with pride. Not because he wore an impressive uniform or traveled to distant places. But because I saw that he was trying to find his own place.
I felt that pride again when Michael himself became a father. With Helena and Andreas, two precious new lives came to enrich our family. Michael then learned for himself what every parent discovers sooner or later. That a child transforms your life completely. That from that moment onward, love and responsibility can no longer be separated. And that as a parent, you can guide, protect, and advise…
Michael found his place in aviation. As a flight attendant with Sabena, he learned to travel, take responsibility, and deal with many different kinds of people. He built a family with Pascale. Helena was born on 6 October 2000; exactly five years later, on 6 October 2005, Andreas arrived. Two children with the same birthday, each with a character entirely their own.
Michael and Tina, together in a new chapter of our family.
When Sabena disappeared, Michael also lost a source of security he had built upon. He continued in cargo aviation in Liège. Later, a marital crisis and a long separation brought new strain. I did not always see up close what he was carrying. Marco’s problems took up so much space in those years that my attention as a father became unbalanced. That is not an excuse, but it is a truth I want to face.
There were periods of distance between Michael and me. Sometimes we spoke too little; sometimes we both thought the other knew what remained unsaid. I regret that. A child quietly seeking their own way needs no less attention than a child visibly in crisis. I should have asked more often how he was really doing.
Over the years, we found our way back to each other. Not by pretending the distance had never existed, but by speaking more honestly and trying less to change each other. When I see Michael with Helena and Andreas today, I recognize his own form of faithfulness. He never had to be like Marco. My sons were different, and my love for them therefore does not need to be compared.
My son Michael with his children Andreas and Helena.
It is difficult for me to write this so openly, because a father likes to believe his children instinctively know how much he loves them. But love that is not expressed can be misunderstood. If I could live certain years again, I would sit beside Michael more often without immediately beginning to talk about work, worries, or solutions.
I would ask not only how his family was doing, but how he was doing. I cannot rewrite the past; I can stop hiding behind good intentions. That is why this truth has a place in my book. Not to burden Michael with my regret, but to take responsibility as his father. Our bond does not have to be perfect to be real.
Precisely because we have known distance, difference, and silence, I know how precious it is that today we can once again see each other as we truly are.
Neither of my sons had to be like the other. Each has his own place in my life. When I think of Michael today, I see the man who made his own choices, the father of Helena and Andreas, and my son, who continued to follow his own path. That was his path. And that is precisely why I am proud of him.