Projects

Although Rebma is sick, you can’t tell from this interview. He looks fresh, fit and full of plans. He’s still teaching, but only on a substitute basis. A regular class is no longer possible. “I do things for my school where I can add value, but I really want to be in front of the classroom anyway.” He’s also currently working on a journalistic project in which he profiles thirteen teachers from around the country.

It all sounds like a lot – but it gives Rigma energy. “My daughter is my most important project. I also want to devote myself to projects that I can sink my teeth into. With the first project I did, I got a lot of support for education. Precisely because my life had been turned upside down, it was very good to be able to devote myself completely to something. In fact, I felt so relieved that I decided to participate in a rowing marathon. (It raised €33,000 for the Melanoma Foundation, ed.) This gives me stability, satisfaction and a sense of purpose. These are all important things for me, precisely because I am sick.

In his book, Regma describes that his illness also gives him space to do these kinds of projects. “It sounds crazy, because cancer is of course not fun at all. Before, I was already working on all kinds of projects that I thought were important. But the illness has intensified them, and that’s what this unpleasant situation has brought me. I have bad periods, but in general I feel good. As long as I can, I will keep busy.”

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And they are weak.

His illness not only upends Rebma’s life, but also his mindset. Part of that is because he can only take BRAF inhibitors because they are reimbursed. “I looked it up once, and it’s a lot of money, it’s unbelievable. That’s what I get from my countrymen. I’m very grateful for that because it motivates me to give something back.”

The other answer is that – when you get sick – you have to face your own weakness and mortality. Before that, I sometimes thought I was immortal, especially with all the weird things I did while surfing.

Rijpma takes a moment to find the right words. “I’ve never been so concerned about the fact that I might die. My illness has made me face my own vulnerability, and I’ve also developed a greater empathy for the vulnerability of others. I want to pass that empathy on to my daughter. You might be wondering, why not just write this book for her? But I also see a real lack of empathy in our society right now, and this book is an opportunity for me to share that message with many more people.”

To live

Rebma’s daughter was two years old when he got sick. He and his wife immediately decided to be open about it. “I think it’s important for her not to keep things secret either. The illness is in our lives, and therefore in hers too,” he says. “Children at that age don’t understand much yet. If she were here now she could explain it, but at that time she didn’t know what cancer really meant. Now she understands it better and talks about it. She was soon able to say, ‘Daddy has cancer, and if he doesn’t take his pills, he’ll die.’ Since she was about three years old.”

From everyday moments at the kitchen table to explorations in the city park and holidays at the family home in Spain: the book is above all a portrait of their life as a family. When Ribma’s daughter later reads the letters, she sees her younger self through her father’s eyes. “This is a portrait of her as she is now, or as I see her now. I’m actually trying to introduce her to herself when she was four or five and what we were like as a family. I hope she’ll enjoy reading it again when she’s older.”

Whether it’s surfing, food, or the importance of friendships and love: Rijpma devotes more pages to life than death. “I don’t worry too much about death, because as long as I’m here, death hasn’t come yet. Maybe it will come sooner for me than for others. But as long as it hasn’t come yet, I can focus on the next project and be with my daughter and my wife. Life still has so much to offer me, and I hope readers will make the most of it. And that it holds a mirror up to them, and then to my daughter. What is really valuable to you? And can you let go of the less important things? No matter how hard that is.”

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pile

Once Rebma learned he had a terminal illness, he set himself a number of goals. Some of them were about himself, but many of them were about his daughter. For example, he wanted her to go to elementary school (which she did), bike to high school, and give her a wedding present.

“That’s what you call dots on the horizon — otherwise I’m drifting a little bit without direction. I want to be able to go somewhere. And now she’s going to middle school. When I picked her up yesterday, she came out a different exit. And then you see: She’s a big girl now. Those are the moments you have to hold on to. And the last musical in the eighth series will also be one of those shows, even though that’s still a long way off. And that’s the hope, too. I can’t look too far ahead, but I can keep going and hopefully I’ll be there soon.”

“What I Still Want to Tell You” by Jasper Rijpma is available now.

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