23/02/2026
Two years ago today, around this time, I received a WhatsApp with a very cryptic message.
It made me worry immediately. But I wasn’t thinking of the worst. Not even close. I called back the very same second.
The voice on the other end felt far away. Almost too calm. The words remained strangely vague. No one wanted to say the impossible out loud. As if not speaking it might somehow make it untrue.
But silence does not change reality.
Chad had been in a fatal accident.
There are sentences in life that divide everything into “before” and “after.”
That was mine.
It is the kind of call no one should ever receive. And yet, far too many do. Life does not negotiate. It does not ask whether we are ready.
I was in Hermanus that day. The next morning I flew back to Namibia. My car stayed behind in South Africa — just as parts of my old life did.
Since then, I returned only once to fetch it.
And now, exactly two years later, exactly to the day, I find myself back in Cape Town. Only for a few days. The symmetry feels surreal.
This photo was taken four months before the accident. Also in Cape Town. At Chad’s favourite sushi restaurant. We had no idea how precious ordinary afternoons are. No idea that “normal” is the greatest luxury of all.
Life and death belong to the same cycle. Everything flows. Everything changes. And somehow, we keep walking forward — carrying love, memories, and a strength we never asked for, but found anyway.
And tonight?
There will be sushi.
Because some traditions are not about the food. They are about remembering.
And if you happen to eat sushi today or in the coming days, think of Chad — and of all those who left too soon 💫🌈🦄