I lost my Father, and for a while myself. This is a short text about how we slowly recover and return to our own truth, how traveling and doing our own thing has healing powers for the soul.
Af Cecilie Felumb Conrad | January 12, 2020
On new years eve, I fell off the wagon. My father died. Our nomadic journey had taken us to Portugal in a rented house, my grown up daughter and her boyfriend were with us, and we were actually on our way to an amazing little french circus in the mountains.
I must explain: I have two fathers, let’s call them the first and the second. I have two mothers as well. It all comes from my first parents divorcing when I was very young. And both of my first parents found the love of their life and remarried. When I lost my father on new years eve this year, he had been my father for more than 35 years.
And we flew to Denmark, caught the flu, was sick with fever and headaches and running noses in the home of great friends. Couldn’t even visit siblings or my poor grandmother who had lost her son, couldn’t go to my parents’ home to just sit and let go and breathe. I was sick, the kids were sick, the kids of my siblings were sick – what a mess!
We stayed to attend the funeral, and flew back the same day to Portugal. A crazy day. First funeral with all of the emotions, then the goodbyes to everyone, as we were leaving again, then the metro, the airport with trouble with the dog, then the flying (phew, finally a bit of sleep), then renting a car and driving to another airport to pick up our van, and then more driving back to the rented house.
It felt like being a harmonic rainbow mix of playdough being squeezed between too many hands, like leaking from all of the spaces between fingers, like becoming brown and shapeless, like loosing myself, almost like not being. It did not feel horrible, it felt like falling apart, like loosing all connection, all meaningfulness, all truth.
We lost my mother, the first, in April. So when Father died, it felt like she died again. Like, now it is all over. A full set of parents, the ones I grew up with, are gone. In five years time, maybe, I can explain what it meant.
For now I am slowly coming back to my own truth. We returned to Portugal to dear friends visiting us for a few days in the rented house, and after them: my husbands parents arriving. We came back to fresh and organic produce, never wrapped in plastic to fill our systems with great vibration and true health. We came back to the sun! The open sky, the ocean. We came back to the silence of the closed Algarve coast, the goats walking slowly and beautifully in the grass, and the almond tress in blossom. We came back to our adventure of the nomadic life.
And slowly I am coming back to myself. Slowly I am recovering to my own truth. I feel it waking up, like stepping out of a dream or waking up really slowly or doing yoga for hours. Slowly I am coming back to who I am, to what I know, to my alignment and connection. I think it would have been impossible to force it, returning to myself has been a slow movement, and I have done it with no tension.
My father taught me to never give up. And he was right. Never ever give up. The 3 weeks since he left this life has been wild. Only when we came back to our own life, I started to recover. The healing powers of staying present, staying in our own life, staying with our own truth, staying grateful and connected are limitless.
We have met amazing people, seen beautiful sunrises and sunsets, had big and small moments and it has all been allowing me to come back to MY truth, MY life, MY path. I think now I am back on track, beginning to move in my direction. And I shall start sharing again. As sharing holds great value to me.
Stayin connected is one of the main elements of sharing, another is opening my experiences for others to enjoy. Please comment, connect, ask questions, write emails. Let me know if you have lost someone, and how you feel, let me know what elements of our nomadic unschooling life, you want to hear more about, invite yourself for dinner, just reach out. I am grateful for all the connections this blog is allowing in our life, everyone following.
Thank you for reading the blog. I write to share our experiences and perspective, and would love to hear yours. Please comment in whatever way feels right to you: Facebook-comment, personal e-mail, text-message, whatever you like. It brings a lot of joy in the bus, when we hear from readers. Thank you and may the sun shine on your path.
Nomadic reality – 2020 week 3