It was the afternoon of July 19th this year when I was returning from Minneapolis after a ten-day bridge tournament. Randomly, memories of Naren flashed back as I was thinking about my upcoming birthday on July 25th and then his, to see how old he would have been this October 3rd.
When the airplane took off, seeing the skies above and the ground slowly disappearing brought back the memories of how Naren initiated me into travel. At every opportunity, he would want to go on a trip. It did not matter where. Even as we argued a lot and tensions persisted in our marriage — about every walk of life — I would always want to tag along on travels. I soon got hooked on travel. My reasons may have been somewhat different at times than his, but slowly they converged.
Steadily, our travels started taking different shapes: from visiting countries (as he was always counting), then from budget travels to luxury travels, then on Lindblad’s adventure cruises — which later got acquired by National Geographic. He even paid $50K for each of us — we two and our two children — after 9/11, when all travel had come to a grinding halt. They were offering a lifetime $10K per year per person discount. I was mad, but he loved the deal. Then our travels evolved to more and more remote places.
The most memorable ones for me are: the trip to Antarctica on a National Geographic ship, facing treacherous waves over Drake’s Passage; the Ama Dablam base camp hike at an elevation of 13,300 ft in Nepal; and snorkeling in the Marquesas Islands, near Bora Bora. Seeing a spectacular display of the Northern Lights in the middle of extreme cold when we took off in a helicopter from Yellowknife in Canada, to further north. We had no showers and no toilets attached to our tent. Sticking our frozen butts out in the middle of the night was not fun. But wandering bundled up, chasing the green, pink, and yellow skies, was an unforgettable experience.
Then the airplane bush-hopping trip in Wrangell National Park in Alaska — landing on each mountaintop, spotting a small piece of flat land and landing— was fun. We saw the terrain from angles very few would see. During the same trip, we visited Katmai National Park in Alaska, watching bears catch and eat salmon jumping in the waterfalls. There, I came face to face with a bear at the crack of dawn. I was like a deer caught in headlights. I was frightened for my life for the first time ever.
That was the last trip we took together.
We were both difficult to please, expecting each other to do better. For example, he was an extraordinary man — rightly praised by everyone — but I never praised him, and likewise, he never praised me.
After his sudden death, almost five years back — which he also came close to when he had his first heart attack, 24 years earlier — it appeared as if I had played that movie before in my head. It does not make it any easier to live without him, though. Such is life.
I am sharing this because this Christmas it will be Naren’s five-year death anniversary.
I miss Naren. I wish I’d learned earlier to accept him with all his faults.
Living with someone for 47 years built strong strings of connection. And connections are what love is. Not perfection.
2 responses
A beautiful and deeply moving reflection on love, loss, and a lifetime of shared experiences. The reminder that love is not about perfection, but about the connections we build over the years, is especially powerful.
Thanks, Veronica.