The road to Wyoming: a story of loss, grief, and moving forward

In this piece about loss and moving forward , digital nomads John and Hallie share their story of grief and gaining a new perspective as they return to their life of exploring. I am honored to share their words on this blog as an ode to life’s hardest lessons and the choice to continue to live despite it all. This is a story of loss, grief, and moving forward.

On August 6th of this year, the day after his 63rd birthday, my dad lost his battle with lung cancer. When we slid the glass doors open and stepped into the ICU room, even the overwhelming smell of antiseptics and cleaning products couldn’t distract me from the reality of the situation. My dad was dying.

He was not very cognitive of his surroundings. The moment his eyes met mine and he saw that I was there, he cracked a weak but gentle smile, and that was all I needed to understand that he knew I was there. A few moments later, they removed his breathing tube and he peacefully passed as I held his hand.

The stages of grief

We had driven more than a thousand miles to get there in time for his last moments. Each mile we drove brought me one step closer to losing him, which made the drive itself feel like climbing an impossibly steep mountain with no oxygen. It was absolutely heartbreaking to know that my father was gone, but I knew in the back of my mind that it was time to start taking steps in the direction of acceptance.

Everyone has experienced loss in some way or another. As time goes by, there’s a sense of guilt and an internal struggle with the idea of moving forward. Am I moving on too fast? Am I supposed to cry? Is it normal to feel this way? Having fun or laughing seems shameful, even illegal. On the other hand, some days we don’t want to leave our beds. We don’t want to see anyone from the outside world. We just want to curl up in a ball until the pain goes away, if it ever does. Every moment going forward is unknown… every moment becomes either “before” or “after.”

To go or not to go

I realized very quickly that life doesn’t pause to allow time for healing. The most supportive person I could ask for, my girlfriend Hallie, was there for me every step of the way. We had booked a trip to Wyoming and Utah about a year before, and we were set to leave just about a week after the funeral. That’s not a lot of time to process the death of a close loved one.

We weighed the options about not going, how many memories will be missed if we didn’t go. Hallie told me it was more than okay to cancel, but in my heart I knew my dad would’ve wanted me to go explore the world. He would’ve wanted us to continue living in his honor and enjoy the trip as much as we could.

Hallie and John Their Coordinates — Hallie and John: a story of grief, loss, and moving forward

Our loved ones never intend to leave a path of despair and heartbreak when they leave, but sadly it’s not within their control. It is our responsibility to pick up the pieces that are left behind and make something beautiful out of life in their absence, even if we have to pick pieces of ourselves off the floor to make it happen.

After hours of deliberation, we decided to go together. We got on the plane, and right away I experienced the first difficult moment. My family has a group chat primarily used for texts like “boarding now!” or “we landed safely!” I took on the responsibility of creating a new group chat with his name left out, and that small but significant action really brought down the confidence I had in myself. It’s funny how we go into autopilot for the big things, like planning an entire funeral, but something as simple as deleting a group chat can tear us into pieces.

Grappling with guilt

We’ve been here in the beautiful state of Wyoming for just about a week now. Our room overlooking the Grand Teton Mountains has this balcony where, normally, I’d step out to call my dad while Hallie was still sleeping in the early hours of the morning while the sun was still rising. It’s become somewhat of a habit to give him a call while pacing back and forth on our balcony at home.

Wyoming balcony with views national park

There have been so many moments that I’ve let my mind wander, thinking “my dad would love to see this” or “I’m gonna call my dad and tell him what happened today.” The pain comes back like a knife each and every time. Whether it’s to complain about the traffic or share an exciting story, there’s so much of life I’ll no longer share with him. But every day I’m learning that it’s okay to say “yes” to the dinner of laughing until our stomachs hurt with friends, the thrilling adventure white water rafting trip on the snake river, or the terribly fun fly-fishing trip with the love of my life.

There’s always going to be a part of me that wishes I could share stories of my travels with my dad again, play chess with him one more time, or dive into our toolbox to start another home improvement project together. I will treasure those memories for the rest of my life. There’s so many places on my bucket list that I’ll never be able to tell him about. I think there’s a part of me that believes he already knows somehow.

Life goes on

I also know that he would be so proud of where I am today. I’m not completely healed – and that’s okay – but he would give me the biggest pat on the back for taking the leap and going on this trip despite not being steady on my feet yet.

I’ve always heard the expression “life goes on” and “grief is not a linear process” but I don’t think I truly understood it until this loss. But if there’s one thing I’ve taken away from this experience, it’s to never stop living. Never stop telling the ones we love how much we love them. Because at a moment’s notice, we could lose the opportunity and never be able to experience life the same way again.

Travelling together for the past 4 years, John and Hallie run their own digital marketing business and work 100% remotely. The couple are passionate about the environment, photography, and adventure. Hallie left her phone number for John while he was working at a sushi restaurant, and the rest was history. Their joined Instagram account @theircoordinates prides itself on being authentic while showcasing the beauty of the planet we call home. The account often talks about Hallie’s battle with adenomyosis and PCOS along with John’s journey with agoraphobia in order to help others feel less alone. Life is imperfect, and Hallie and John wish to share the “real” side of luxury travel with their followers.

Instagram: @theircoordinates
Digital Marketing Website: https://www.wsiworld.com/john-pene