The Last Part of Our Journey Together

Watching the lights fade into the distance as we sailed away from the coast of France, the country, the place I loved living in, was an appallingly upsetting experience. The profound shock of leaving France so quickly, wrenched from my home, affected me deeply.

There was a heaviness in my chest, something that would remain there for a long time. I believe that intuitively I closed a part of myself down then, in an effort to survive whatever lay ahead.

The familiar Marine hotel, a lovely place by the sea outside Dublin city, would be our base, while I found us a place to live.

Anyone who has come back to the bosom of 'family & old friends', will spot the comedy elements that such a complex situation is bound to produce. From the leisurely life of rural France, we entered a super crazy existence in Ireland, complete with a huge cast of characters.

Into our life, onto our stage, they marched, the good, the not so good, and the downright peculiar.

We had endless medical appointments in huge hospitals, sometimes involving hours of waiting, followed by about ten minutes with a consultant telling us what the next stage of treatment was.

Phone calls poured in and visits from friends and family, offering help, or not, could not be stopped.

Life became a whirl of activity for us. And we hated most of it, having become used to the more refined manner of how things happened in France, especially in the medical world. People simply didn't rush around, frazzled, as they did in Dublin.

Despite the circumstances, the horrific illness, the very reason we were here, at times, both of us felt we were in some daft comedy, the characters created by Woody Allen.

Never, for one moment, had I expected Larry’s "middle of the night, panic decision to return to Ireland" plan to work.

It had always been obvious to me, with no need for deep thinking, that we would have been so much better off, for every reason imaginable, staying in France. Larry's admission, almost at the end of his life, that he had overestimated the backup in Ireland, had been too hasty leaving France, was, while honest, extremely distressing to hear.

Two things helped make that horrendous time somewhat bearable. One, our sense of humour lasted until almost the end. Two, retiring early, moving to France and traveling widely from our base in the Pyrenees, gave us a massive store of memories to look back on, discuss, and re-live our adventures all over again.

As the ferry sailed from France that night, it was a good thing that I could not see into the future.

Prior knowledge of how much we would have to endure, on the last part of our journey together, might have made a leap overboard seem a good option.

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The Last Part of Our Journey Together

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