Journeying With Wisdom

There are moments in grief that catch you completely off guard. Today, mine happened on a boat in Skiathos.

I had booked a sunset cruise. I wanted to do it. I really did. I got myself there, boarded the boat, found a place to sit, and tried to settle into the evening.

I was alone.

Again.

I became painfully aware of JC not being beside me.

That empty space felt enormous.

I watched the people around me. Couples sat together. People chatted and laughed. Everyone seemed to belong somewhere, with someone.

I tried to make it easier for myself.

I joined a table with an elderly couple, hoping that perhaps having company would take away some of the loneliness.

They were perfectly pleasant.

But I still felt out of place.

The truth is, you can sit at a table with other people and still feel completely alone.

Because I wasn’t simply looking for company.

I was missing him.

I was missing the person who should have been sitting beside me.

The person who would have looked at the view with me.

The person who would have made some little comment that only I would understand.

The person whose presence required no effort at all.JC.

And suddenly, being there felt less like a beautiful sunset cruise and more like something I was forcing myself to endure.

Then something unexpected happened.

The boat had to turn around and return to the harbor because a large group still needed to be picked up.

And there it was.

My opportunity.

I got off.

If you are planning your own visit to Skiathos, I’ve shared the practical side of my trip — beaches, boat excursions, getting around, rainy days and the places I discovered — in my Skiathos travel guide on TravelandHome.com™.

I didn’t hesitate for very long.

I simply knew I couldn’t do it.

And for a moment, I wondered if I had failed.

Had I given up too easily?

Should I have stayed?

Should I have tried harder?

But I already had tried. I had boarded the boat.

I had sat there alone.

I had joined other people.

I had pushed through the discomfort.

And still, everything inside me was saying, I don’t want to be here without him.

So I listened.

Perhaps grief sometimes looks like getting off the boat.

Not because you are weak.

Not because you cannot cope.

But because there are moments when pretending to enjoy something hurts more than walking away from it.

This trip to Skiathos has taught me something I wasn’t expecting.

Solo travel after losing the person you traveled through life with is not simply about learning how to eat alone, navigate airports alone, drive somewhere alone, or sit at a restaurant table alone.

Those things are manageable.

The harder part is experiencing something beautiful and instinctively turning toward the person who should be standing beside you.

And finding nobody there.

That is the loneliness I struggle with.

I have tried on this trip.I really have.

I traveled to Skiathos. I explored the island.

I drove myself around.

I visited beautiful beaches.

I went to the monastery.

I wandered around the old port.

I took boats to other islands.

I figured out buses, taxis, mobile phones, directions and all the little practical things that somehow felt easier when there were two of us.

From the outside, perhaps that looks brave.

But there have also been moments when I have felt incredibly small and incredibly alone.

Tonight was one of them.

And I think I am beginning to understand that I do not have to prove anything.

I do not have to become the woman who happily travels the world alone simply because that is what people sometimes expect widows to do.

I don’t have to turn grief into some inspirational story about independence.

Perhaps my future travels will look different.

Maybe I will travel with friends.

Maybe I will join smaller groups.

Maybe I will take shorter trips.

Maybe I will choose places where I know someone.

Or perhaps, one day, traveling alone will feel different again.

I don’t know.

And I don’t need to decide tonight.

What I do know is that getting off that boat was not failure.

It was honesty.

I had reached my limit.

And I listened to myself.

I loved traveling with JC.

I loved sharing life with JC.

So of course there are moments when traveling without him feels completely wrong.

Tonight, I stopped trying to make it feel right.

I simply got off the boat.

And perhaps, for today, that was enough.