Holidays

A couple of months after José died I went on holiday to Canada. I didn't want to go, it felt too soon and too far to be leaving him. There's no rational reason for this, José was no longer in this physical reality he exists only in memories and I'd be taking them with me.

I went with my sister and we stayed with friends in Vancouver and Calgary. It perhaps helped that José had been to both Vancouver and the Rockies. Whilst there I remembered stories he had told that I wouldn't have otherwise remembered.

I enjoyed my holiday, and am pleased I took the plunge to go but it was a struggle. I felt so chronically sad. I was surrounded by so much wonder and beauty but inside I was hurting. Of course I would have loved him to be there, sharing the experience together but it was more than that - a core of sadness.

A few months on and I still look at holidays with the same mixed emotions. I have a couple of days away with friends in a luxury log cabin. I feel guilty because he would have loved being surrounded by the woods - able to jump straight on his mountain bike or go for a forest run. He would have also lectured me on the risk of legionnaires disease in the hot tub... see already I'm remembering memories otherwise forgotten.

I look forward to remembering more of the wonderful man I married whilst I relax in the hot tub with a glass of bubbles and dismiss the idea of a run.