Sand dunes and sunsets

We met in Africa in the heart of the Sahel while we were on work assignments. Both from North America we shared a love for travel and culture. He was a lieutenant in the Air Force while I was working with an international charitable organization. We bought paintings from the same local artist and watched sunsets on the sand dunes. Something happens when you’re living abroad. That sense of novelty and excitement shared strengthens relationships in a way that would not be possible back home. While some friendships fade almost as quickly as you make them. Others, become lifelong bonds where you will forever feel a connection to them. There is also something about travel that allows you to be vulnerable. Sometimes the most spontaneous interactions become the most profound.

When our assignments ended later that same year he moved back to where he was stationed. After nearly a month apart, we made our way back to each other in the heart of Brussels. I was visiting a friend and he had driven the 238km to spend an afternoon together. We wandered through the charming cobblestone streets and admired the architecture. We held hands and watched the sunset for the last time. I never imagined that I would never get to see him again. When I didn’t hear back from him for days, my mind was erratic. I was staying with my sister when I found out of the accident through an email. He died on his way to work when his car slid into a cluster of trees. I remember a knot had formed in my stomach and for weeks my insides felt all entangled. I was heartbroken. It was painful to breathe. I wasn’t really sure where to go and what to do.

I didn’t have a toothbrush to throw out or clothes to go through. I wouldn’t even be attending his funeral. Instead, I had a long string of text and email messages, some mementos and a few photos. It all felt surreal, but as the days ahead were a messy blur of tears, I reached out to his family. I needed to meet those who loved him. Sometimes I would grieve with darkness, sometimes with light, sometimes with both. The grief would lessen, then it would sneak up on me. In time it would hurt less often, but it would always be there.

Weeks after his passing, stories came to the surface. I knew he had been in the military, but I had not known that he had been on a covert intelligence mission when we met in Africa. Only the military had known of his whereabouts during that time. His family and friends never had the opportunity to learn from him about his life in Niger, much less our story. One of the difficulties when relationships end is leaving behind the dreams that you once shared. The fact that our relationship had only begun didn’t change any of that. It took me a long time to understand that my loss was real and that I was deserving of my feelings.

It’s been more than fifteen years since he passed away. The connection we had will always be with me because it reminds me of where I have journeyed and who I was back then. Over the years I’ve been more intentional with my life. I try to lean in more. I learned that after the worst thing happens, everything else in life becomes a lot clearer. That feeling and sense of self carried on beyond those early weeks of shock into the person I am now. I look back and I have a lot of deep affection for my younger self. Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to get through it, and to find love again.