My 75-year-old father told me he would feel almost dead if the annual family vacation stopped. He wasn’t ready. Neither do I.
It stopped me in my tracks and frankly scared me a little. When I realized my parents were getting old, I hadn’t even begun to think about life without them, and I found myself spending another vacation looking for these new lenses.
For the past 12 years, my husband, parents, son and I have traveled the world on our annual multigenerational trip. And while the sights have been spectacular, what I appreciate most about this last vacation is how each of us has gotten the most out of the trip.
I was between my parents and my son
The dynamic has definitely evolved. My daughter was 9 when we started, now 21, and brought her boyfriend. My parents are now in their 70s, with some health challenges that require more patience and care. And I’m in the middle, setting up the trip so that everyone can still participate. I used to plan for adventure. Now I think about walking, downtime, unpacking, and what my parents can do while still entertaining 21-year-olds.
The author says that he now has to pay attention to what his parents can do, and what will make his son happy. Courtesy of the author
But what I learned on this trip is that sometimes, when choosing something for the younger generation, a magical memory is created for the oldest, like when we went to Nikki Beach in St Tropez at the request of my son. We’ve been there for lunch a few years before, and we wanted to go back, this time when we could see the vibe of a true Euro summer beach club in action, complete with waving white napkins and ABBA blasting from the DJ booth.
I never would have guessed, but both of my parents were up and dancing that day. My mom started announcing it throughout the day as one of her favorites. Who knows? Maybe all you need is a “darty” (a day party, as my college kids would say!).
It wasn’t just a holiday for my parents
After what my father said on that trip, I saw him differently that day. Seeing him dancing with my mother, laughing and finishing in a moment, I understood better what he meant. The trip was not just a vacation for him. It’s something he still looks forward to, proof that there are more places to go, more memories to make, and more life ahead of him.
The thing is, for the first few years of this trip, I just wanted to cross off my bucket list. Now, I want to know how to bottle the time and the eternal image in my head because it will come at a time when he stops, when my parents can no longer travel, and when my son is busy with work and his own family.
The author realizes the journey will not last forever. Courtesy of the author
I know the finality of life all too well, as I am still struggling with the loss of my son Jake after 15 years. I know directly the fragility of life and how everything can change in an instant.
My dad’s comments also made me realize that I had been thinking about this trip mostly from my own perspective as a planner and caregiver. I worry about how much walking they can do, whether they need an afternoon off, or if I have planned too much. He was thinking about something completely different. He thought about what it meant to still be able to go.
The goal is to spend time together
The success of the trip is usually measured by where we go and what we see. Now they are measured by how much uninterrupted time we have together. When we’ve moved from bucket list places like Africa and the Galápagos, we’ve started to choose places where we don’t have to pack and unpack every three or four days, where we can live and spend time together.
We have all learned that the real moments of the journey are not the highest experiences. They lie in the moment next visit, when we all have cocktails by the pool and share time, the most valuable gift we all have. It is in the final glass of wine, listening to music, or playing Flip 7 or Pass Babi. That’s when we get tired of exploring and stop drinking beer on random streets in random places we’ll never find again.
I don’t know how many more years, five, now six, we’ll be able to do this together. I hope it’s a lot. But my father’s comment made me realize that counting years is almost pointless. We got this trip, and when we were there, everyone could still dance.
Perhaps the most important thing is that when my parents started this tradition many years ago, they started something that will never end.. I know that this trip will be for my son and his family. I love knowing my parents passed on the tradition. I’m just not in a rush to inherit.