Taking what we have

During the many miles we have covered on this trip, we have been listening to music selected on my Spotify account. Some of the staple selections have been anything by Leo Sayer, Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet and the song I want at my funeral, I Lived, by One Reoublic. There also have been songs from the two musicals we saw on Broadway, Kinky Boots and Thw Lion King.

One of the songs from Kinky Boots that has struck a chord with me is ‘Take What You’ve Got’. It’s lyrics resonate because they remind me of the importance of not letting circumstances determine our outlook on life. One of the greatest legacies of being married to Celena was that she showed me not to let a health diagnosis, a hospital visit or even significant loss diminish our passion for life. We are creatures built for aspiration and hopefulness - we are most fully alive when we are giving expression to our dreams and stepping into possibility.

There is not a day on this trip when my family are not on my mind or tugging at my heart strings. I miss them but I sense them here with me, reminding me that:

“You've got to take what you've got
Even where your life is in knots
You take aim, take your shot
Sometimes you've gotta rewrite the plot
You've gotta take what you got.”

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When a whisper becomes a shout

The sun is yet to rise. I, however, have had no trouble doing just that. It’s not through choice - a restless night, in another hotel room, has led me downstairs to the lobby of the hotel we are staying at, in Burlington, Vermont. 

Yesterday, as we travelled in the car for the first time, I began reading a book about using your personal experiences as the basis for writing. It taps into something I have long felt, which is that our lives are stories waiting to be told. Each experience, every encounter comes to us as a chapter to be written, shared, read and interpreted. We are both author and avid reader - we write according to the lives we lead, we read in the sense that we absorb and respond to the unfolding pages of others. 

The author of the book I began yesterday is clear that writing is not an easy process. It is worthwhile, yes; but it is not something that occurs without the application of hard work and a degree of solitude. The writer has to be solitary because unless the writer knows him or herself, there is no authenticity in what has been written.

I have never doubted my capacity to put words together. It was why I studied print journalism as my original college degree. What I have yet to commit to, however, is the rigour of being a writer. It requires a self-discipline that I have either lacked or being unwilling to accept and embrace. 

Going through so many of Celena’s possession is revealing just how dedicated she was to the journey of writing. For her, writing was never about a destination - a book,  an article, a post. It was about wrestling with whatever demons or angels dwell inside all of us and then spilling the blood and anguish of that battleground onto a page. My wife knew she had to honour those inner thoughts and emotions, even if only to herself, and was not afraid of what emerged. She knew her inner voice and was not afraid to listen when it spoke. 

I need to take a leaf out of her unfinished manuscript and do the same. Whether it will be a whisper or a shout, only time will tell. Fortunately, as we begin our second week of holidays in the USA, that is something I have plenty of. 

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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. 

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