When you go backward in order to go forward.

“Life is amazing. And then it’s awful. Then it’s amazing again. And in between the amazing and awful it’s ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That’s just living heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful.” 

L. R. Knost

When I first left California for Italy, February 2019, I knew I was running away from something. I knew that what was in front of me had to be different than what was surrounding me and behind me. In fact, it had to be completely replaced, because what I had experienced up until that point in California could never be the same again. It was my arrival at 17 and growing into an adult. This was the place I fell in love and built my own family and circle of friends that meant as much to me as my real family far away.

I knew I was escaping something at the time because I couldn’t imagine staying and trying to keep all of those memories contained in a glass jar neatly labeled “The Past”. Eventually, I would have to go back and face it. It wouldn’t be possible to move fully forward, without seeing the past for what it was. I just didn’t know when I would return.

It’s time to go backward to go forward

This year, March 16 marked the 5-year anniversary of the death of my late husband, Darin. Beginning in November, I began imagining what would be the right way to not only mark that moment but also return to California.

That glass jar was calling for me. Like Alice in C.S. Lewis Carroll’s story Alice Through the Looking Glass, when Alice finds the cookie and vial of liquid. Instead of “Eat Me” or “Drink Me”, my jar simply said, “Open Me.”

To open it meant I would allow all of those relics to spill out. I would examine them like an anthropological site, looking for clues from the past to assure me my path forward was right. I had to revisit the relics and find the proof within them.

What I wasn’t able to do five years ago was put Darin in his final resting place. I didn’t have the courage at the time. I knew if I rushed it, there would be more regrets to put on the growing pile. That was also part of this effort. I wanted to be more prepared. My time with him should be sacred and meaningful and be an opportunity for closure. All of the noise from the past had quieted itself.

I drafted a list of what I needed to tell him as part of my final goodbye. It encompassed a laundry list of should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve, but mostly it was gratitude based. Thanking him for the life he shared with me before he left and thanking him for the strength his spirit encouraged in me after he departed.

Going backward to go forward meant closing that chapter of unspoken words.

A bumpy arrival

I flew into Los Angeles two weeks ago. Thanks to an atmospheric river in California and a four-hour flight delay from London, I found myself standing outside of LAX at 1:30 a.m. waiting for an Uber amid a deluge of people, rain, cars, and second thoughts.

After clocking almost 30 hours of travel my energy, patience and deodorant had exhausted themselves. The Universe wasn’t making my 2023 welcome-back tour easy for me.

I arrived at my friend Joe’s house in West LA. With our evening plans for a light dinner and catch-up obviously thrown out, we settled for a 2:00 a.m. reunion festival of Triscuit crackers, cheese, and a couple of vodka martinis. We hadn’t seen each other in almost four years. There was a lot of ground to cover as we chatted until 4:00 a.m.

Later that morning, after jet lag was at bay, I woke up and prepared to depart for Palm Desert. I was going into the belly of the beast. It was the last place I called home. I spent the absolute best followed by the worst moments of my life. The place where my life in California stopped and my life in Italy began.

Part of this journey of going backward to go forward is to restart the clock from a better vantage point. Now there’s strength and knowledge that I couldn’t have imagined five years ago.

I am encouraged when revisiting my former blog posts those first few months. My first post makes me marvel at what I know and how far I have come. There’s a sense of pride and an appreciation that the dream is not over and there is work to be done.

A bittersweet reunion

I stayed the next five days in Palm Springs with my friend Rick and his partner Dave. Rick knew me best, and he knew how to handle those occasional messy meltdown moments. He was well-equipped for whatever I served up.

On March 16, five years from the day, I woke up with the intention that whatever I was carrying around with me would be left behind somewhere. It was time to make my final adieu to California, my life in Palm Desert, and perhaps a bit of what prevented me from living fully in the present.

It was during those first few days that I received the clarity. I realized that my life would have been incomplete and most likely stalled if I stayed.

It wasn’t because I didn’t have a support system of friends that would always be close. In that place, my life would never be large enough to compensate for the emptiness created five years ago. There would not be enough to stimulate me and reactivate my life. I would have tread water. Or worse, I would have sunk.

Growing as fast as I can

I wrote about Dr. Lois Tonkin’s study on grief several years ago in my blog. In this study, she discusses the concept that we never get over grief, but somehow we manage to find comfort by growing our life’s footprint to reduce the size of the loss.

Her approach is what saved me. Little by little, with my intention, the Universe enlarged my life. The loss that once was everything never became smaller, but it became part of a bigger story.

You can read more about Dr. Tonkin’s study here.

There are days when I feel as if I am swimming against a never-ending life lesson of change. At times, I do miss living in America with its conveniences and the knowledge of how things work.

However, I find that I can replace that longing with other tangible things. I embrace Italy’s story, the adventure of undiscovered places, the kindness of the people, and the challenge of language.

Speaking is always like a puzzle coming together, constantly searching for the missing piece of vocabulary to complete the picture. Sometimes it feels like I am putting together a stick figure instead of a portrait, but it’s always a win to see understanding unfold.

Communicating in English is comfortable and easy, but I lose the self-awareness of my physical presence and what my actions and gestures are saying. My mother tongue flows easily without deliberate thought.

I revel when kindness usurps any language barrier that exists, and actions and gestures demonstrate a more profound clarity than words.

Straddling two worlds

I returned to Rome with the understanding that my life was in front of me now. What was behind me was wonderful and beautiful, but over. The work I had to do was to make this life that waited for me in Rome the best I could. I had to stop straddling two worlds.

I was sharing all of these thoughts with my friend Linda in France. She also left a life in Australia to be in Europe many years ago. France was her final destination, but she spent time in a number of places where she had to be the foreigner trying to fit into another culture.

She suggested that we have no choice but to live this split life we have chosen. We live in two realities carrying the culture, language, and memories we left behind. We search to tap into something new and different invigorates and reawakens us.

I believe she is right. We may never fully integrate into the culture of our destination. The person we were will never fully translate into this life. What we bring to the table, what we have experienced and accomplished, will not mean the same or matter as much as it did in the life we left.

I left California realizing that I could no longer use the past as a safety net or an excuse for living fully. There was no other choice but to go forward and bring Darin along with me in spirit.

I want to thank everyone who messaged me and arrived to showed their support while I was in California. You made a difficult day more beautiful. Thanks for following along. If you’d like to subscribe, please enter your email just below this post.