At my husband’s funeral, I spotted “my girls.” Once inseparable, now in our golden years, we seemed like strangers. Reuniting amid regrets and lost time, one impulsive idea left us questioning everything.
The funeral was quiet, with only a few people exchanging whispers. I stood apart, clutching my husband’s old hat—one of the few tangible remnants of our life together. The murmurs of condolences barely registered.
“Is that… Nora?”
My voice trembled as I noticed a familiar figure on the outskirts. She stood, unsure, clutching her handbag tightly. Before I could gather myself, another familiar face appeared.
“Lorna?” I whispered, almost laughing in disbelief.
She stood confidently, her bright scarf and glasses adding a splash of color to the somber crowd. It was like seeing a ghost from my past, though her eyes carried the weight of the years.
“My girls…”
Later, we found ourselves crammed into a small café.
“This feels surreal,” Nora admitted, stirring her tea. “How long has it been since we were all together?”
I nodded. “I spent the last few years caring for him. Everything else just… stopped.”
“What now?” Nora asked gently.
“His last wish was to see the ocean again. I couldn’t make it happen while he was alive, but I will now.”
“I don’t even know my own wishes anymore,” Nora confessed. “My family… they’ve always seen me as a housekeeper”.
Lorna snorted, but her humor quickly faded. “At least you’re surrounded by people. I’ve been alone so long, I think I’ve forgotten what joy feels like.”
Suddenly, I blurted, “What if we went on a trip together? All of us. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I like it. Crazy, but I like it.”
We laughed, realizing we were embarking on something wild.
***
A few days later, at the airport, I clutched my boarding pass, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside me. Nora rummaged through her bag, while Lorna adjusted her scarf with deliberate ease, though her trembling fingers betrayed her nerves.
“Relax,” I said, nudging her lightly. “You’re the picture of confidence.”
“Fake it till you make it,” she whispered back, grinning.
Upon landing, the real journey began. We rented a shiny convertible that Nora insisted on, the open road greeting us with the salty scent of the ocean. The horizon stretched endlessly, daring us to dream bigger.
Of course, not everything went smoothly. Lorna forgot her luggage at the baggage claim, but she quickly decided to buy new clothes. Despite the hiccup, our excitement remained intact.
That evening, the town was alive with music and lights. Young couples danced in the square.
Lorna’s eyes sparkled. “I’m joining.”
“Without a partner?” I asked skeptically.
“Details,” she said, waving me off.
Soon, a man with silver hair and a kind smile approached her, Lorna radiated joy. When the announcer declared them the winners, her laughter echoed through the square as she held up the small trophy like an Olympic medal.
The night felt almost dreamlike until dizziness swept over me.
***
I awoke in a hospital room. The doctor adjusted his glasses, looking at me.
“Dear, your body has been through a lot—sudden changes, emotional stress, physical strain. It all adds up. You need rest, and frankly, no more travel for now.”
I nodded.
“I’ll scatter the ashes tomorrow morning. Then I’ll head home.”
Back at the motel, the atmosphere was tense.
“You don’t have to cut the trip short, Martha,” Lorna broke the silence. “Stay a few more days. We’ll rest, take it easy. You deserve that.”
Nora frowned. “We’ve done enough. Martha’s fulfilling her husband’s wish, you met Roger, but what about me? What have I done that’s bold or life-changing on this trip? Nothing.”
“Enough!” I said.
The room fell silent. Then Lorna stood abruptly. Nora followed, slamming the door behind her.
That night, each of us retreated to our corners, the cracks in our friendship feeling deeper than ever. For the first time, I wondered if this trip had been a mistake.
***
The next morning, Lorna and I had breakfast in the motel’s small dining area. Nora still hadn’t come down. We ate in companionable silence, but unease crept in. Lorna’s eyes darted toward the window.
“Oh, God! Let’s check on her.”
We hurried to the front desk.
“Excuse me,” Lorna asked the receptionist. “Do you know where our friend Nora went? She was in Room 12.”
“She checked out early this morning, mentioned paragliding. There’s a popular site nearby. She took one of our brochures.”
Lorna exchanged a glance with me, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll call Roger. We need a ride.”
Roger arrived within twenty minutes, his car kicking up a cloud of dust as it pulled into the lot.
The drive was tense. When we arrived, we spotted her immediately. Nora stood on the edge of the launch platform, the bright straps of her harness standing out against the sky. The wind whipped her hair as she stared over the ocean, her expression calm but resolute.
“Nora!” I called. “What are you doing?”
She turned slowly, a small smile on her lips. “Something for myself. I’ve spent my whole life playing it safe. I need this.”
Lorna stepped forward. “If you’re doing it, so are we. Let’s take risks together.”
Before I knew it, we were all strapped into harnesses. My heart pounded as our instructors led us to the edge of the platform. The ocean stretched vast and endless before us.
The experience was exhilarating. For a few minutes, all my fears melted away, replaced by pure joy.
When we landed, our legs wobbled, and our laughter was uncontrollable. Nora’s eyes sparkled with newfound confidence.
Later, we stood on the shore, I opened the urn, the ashes scattering into the wind. That moment felt sacred, a perfect goodbye.
“Goodbye, my love,” I whispered. “And thank you, my girls. It was unforgettable.”
The drive back was filled with reflection. We had come on that trip searching for something, and in the chaos and adventure, we had found it.
Nora returned home, standing up to her family and pursuing her dream of painting.
Lorna with Roger becoming her partner, embraced love and laughter.
For me, I chose to live boldly, volunteering at the library and sharing our story. Our trip became a promise never to postpone our dreams again.
Life wasn’t over. It was just beginning.