Turning the page is not the same as moving on

There is a lot about this trip that is unusual. It marks my first trip abroad with “guys only”. We are competing in our first-ever World Squash Masters. Finally, It is one of the longest periods I will be away from work and it is a trip being done purely for recreational purposes. 

Of course, it is also unusual, in a wrenching kind of way, in that I am returning to some of the places that came to mean so much to Celena and I during the latter stages of our life together: New York, Boston, Washington and Hawaii. But these are places that brought us only joy so the wrench is mingled with a feeling of anticipation and fondness. 

Those mixed emotions show that I haven’t really known how to approach this trip. It is still raw enough to know that our #tripofalifetime was drawing to an end, at this time last year, and we began, unknowingly, the journey towards November 27. 

It also is fair to say that I am not blind to the privilege that comes with being able to undertake global travel. The world is large and I have been very fortunate to be able to explore some parts of it, safely, and always with great excitement and anticipation. As such, I do not set out on this journey with anything less than gratitude.  

My travel choices have always been done with other people in mind: for my children who got to experiences only glimpses of what the world had to offer; for my wife, who had her sights set on destinations that had come to dominate her imagination and rise, Eiffel Tower-like, strong and tall in her dreams. There are also those trips where I have gone in a spirit of solidarity and compassion, to either reach out to others or to be embraced by their kindness and hospitality. 

When Roger and Tony first extended the hand of mate-ship, shortly after Celena’s passing, and invited me to join them, it was an awkward moment. I recall Roger being unsure of how to broach the topic with me; I, in turn, was unsure of how to respond. But I very quickly had a sense that it was something Celena would want me to do. It felt that in saying ‘yes’, I would be honouring her and the passion with which we lived our life together. 

I never drank coffee until after Celena died. One day, I just said ‘yes’, when someone invited me to join them for a cuppa. This trip was approached in the same spirit. I simply said ‘yes’.

There are people I have left behind who know what this trip means to me. I am grateful that in responding to the invitation to go, others have encouraged me, stood by me and assured me of their ongoing love, compassion and support. Saying ‘yes’ is always easier when you know that others have your back and want to help ensure your decision is a positive one. 

This is being written on the plane ride from Honolulu to New York. There are still more than two hours of our 10 hour flight to go. Time enough for me to finish this initial composition  and then put it aside: to rest, to read, to reflect. I have said ‘yes’ and I am here. 

Another chapter now begins.