The Big Stuff
Well hellooo!!
You thought I forgot about you didn’t you?? No, not at all.. in fact I have felt constant guilt about my abandonment of my little blog over the past couple months, but have been faced with some rather life altering events.
After spending almost a month catching up with Calgary friends and family (and hanging with my mom who came over from NZ for a couple of weeks), I decided that my plan to return to Colombia and continue into South America may not be quite as possible as I thought.. My bank account was suffering and then inevitable impending doom of the word.. w-o-r-k started to play on my mind. After getting a little inspiration from friends in the super yacht industry, I decided to make a huge lifestyle change and try to get aboard one of those super-duper luxury yachts owned by crazy millionaires and make some money as a stewardess (aka maid on water).
True, the very essence of the super yacht industry disagrees with my green-loving (huge carbon footprint created and NO sign of recycling on board ever), simple living soul (I mean really? Do two middle-aged oil heirs REALLY need a 60m boat to “chill” on occasionally?) But, like a moth drawn to the dollar bills ( I mean, light.), the eternal hippie within me has seen a niche market in which I can slip into disguise, save some major bucks in minimal months and be once again free to explore the world and learn her secrets in my own sweet time.
I booked my ticket one afternoon and that was it. Well I did also have a cheeky little flight to Colombia booked just in case…
As the weather in Calgary turned from Crappy Summer, to Cold Autumn I started feeling ready to ditch my old prairie town but not quite ready to say goodbye to all the loved ones inside of it.. But such is the life of us wanderers and while saying goodbye doesn’t really get easier, it gets more normal with practise.
About 10 days before departure, I had to say one very difficult and unexpected Goodbye. On September 27 which was a spectacular sunny fall day, my dear grandpa (Papa to us) was killed in a car accident on his way home to Grandma from a physio appointment. Looking back on the moment I heard the words from my aunty’s mouth, over the phone, it still feels like a painful, surreal nightmare. The next week was filled with the most intense, traumatic grief as our large family rallied together to try to get through the initial shock and then to properly say to goodbye to the utterly loved patriarch of the Thomas family.
Grief is exhausting and sneaks up on you in the most unexpected moments. While we had a very fitting and comforting goodbye to our Papa with the multitudes of people whose lives he impacted, I was just not ready to say goodbye to this man. He was a man of rock solid morals, unwavering faith in God and a man who put his loved ones and family first and would go to the ends of the earth for us. While he could be solitary and often shied away from large family gatherings, his presence in G & P’s house and our lives was strong and constant. I am hit over and over again, in the small hours of the morning or when walking alone along the beach, with the magnitude of our family’s loss of this man who was our most loved Papa, Dad, Uncle, Brother and Husband.
It is so strange and beautiful, though, because our whole family is united in this undeniable feeling of certain trust that Papa is in the place he always knew he would be, and in complete peace, while still being a constant, quiet, comforting presence in all of our lives and dreams. Rest In Peace Papa, Toodle-oo and God bless.
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