Those of you who know me outside of the blog world may know this story already. Some of you may know the director's cut extended version and some may only be familiar with the trailer. This is the chance where I explain how my time in New Zealand was not the enjoyable time that I had hoped it would be, and how my trip of a lifetime got curtailed.
As a disclaimer I want to add that this is no slight on New Zealand. The small part of the country that I visited was wonderful and provided a peek into what the rest of the length of the islands would offer. I just couldn't put my heart into it. My heart was occupied on the other side of the world.
As I've already described in the previous entry, my first few hours in New Zealand were magical. The next morning I woke up to rain. I booked myself on to start my Kiwi Experience tour the following day then headed out for a wet, walking tour of Auckland. As the tour finished I checked my phone. The excitement of getting a working mobile yesterday was about to morph into a critical lifeline. Alerting me on the screen was a missed call, a text and a voicemail from my brother in England. My stomach contracted with panic as I ran through the possible scenarios in my mind. Immediately I knew something was wrong. I had only bid James farewell a few days ago. Heat was rising to my head. I pressed the button to listen to the voicemail message. As I listened to the message the world blurred out around me. The words meant nothing. All sense and comprehension drained away.
My mum had had a stroke.
It was serious but no one knew what was happening. She wasn't awake but they were keeping an eye on her. No one could make any prognosis until she woke up.
It was almost as if I was receiving the news that had been looming for a long time. My mum has never led the healthiest of lifestyles, and coupled with my pessimistic mindset, in the back of my mind I had half expected this type of news for most of my life. I just never expected it to be when I was on completely the opposite side of the globe.
After talking to my brother, the initial deep dark hole that had appeared in front of me was covered over. She was in the best place she could be. There was nothing that I could do. Nobody knew how she would be when she woke up. I was told to stay where I was until someone knew something. It was painful, but it made sense. But then again, sense doesn't really come into it when your mind is racing to all sorts of worst case scenarios.
Nevertheless I attempted the impossible task of taking my mind off the goings-on at home. My family were insisting I stay, at least until there was any further news. They knew how much these travels meant to me. And they did, but it seemed ridiculous to carry on when my Mum needed me. But whilst I was in New Zealand I tried to see as much of it as I could. So I joined the Kiwi Experience bus as I'd planned to head up to Paihia in the Bay of Islands.
I must've been the most miserable Kiwi Experience traveller ever. It has a reputation for being a party bus, and although my fellow passengers weren't whooping it up immediately, they were chatting and making friends. I wasn't in the mood for any of it. Watching the picture-perfect, lush, green hills of the countryside roll by out of the window, I was in my own world. It made me incredibly sad that I couldn't enjoy my experience of this wonderful country as I should. I felt as though I was wasting the experience.
When we reached Paihia I was still preoccupied. To try to clear my mind I went for a walk along the sea shore of the quaint seaside town. The heavy, white clouds were looming on the horizon. The rays of sunshine beaming down on the sparkling sea and the cool air would have made it a perfect evening if I hadn't had the millions of thoughts weighing heavy on my mind. As the sun set, I headed to the hostel to try to see if sleep would resolve any of the issues playing in my mind.
Waking up on the creakiest top bunk in the world, I tried to reach out to my phone without waking everyone else in the dorm. Another voicemail message flashed on the screen. Panic rose in my chest again. What news did they have about Mum? But Mum hadn't changed. This was something else. The news came through that a very dear Uncle of mine had suddenly and unexpectedly suffered a heart attack and passed away. I felt as though I had been punched in the stomach. Sat on the top bunk in a hostel dorm, on the other side of the world, surrounded by strangers, I was about to burst into tears. My mind mulled over how my family would be feeling and coping. My heart broke for the pain my Aunty and my cousins must be feeling. My thoughts raced down a thousand different avenues all at once. And although there was nothing I could do for my Uncle, I felt I should be there for the rest of my family. I found it impossible to think how my cousins felt losing their Dad and brand new Grandad. I had to be there for my Mum.
That day we were heading up to Cape Reinga, the most North Westerly tip of New Zealand. It is also a very spiritual place. Despite being a long way from home, I felt comforted by being here. The Maori name of the point, 'Te Rerenga Wairua' means 'the leaping-off place of spirits'. Maoris believe the spirits of the recently deceased travel here to leap off the cliff into the afterlife. Whether or not you share these beliefs, you cannot deny the beauty of the scenery and the dramatic surroundings of the meeting of the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean. As last views go, it's not too bad. I said thank you and goodbye to my Uncle on that breathtaking, windy cliff top. Amongst the throngs of tourists I managed to steal a quiet moment of reflection. Life on Earth is truly beautiful but it is not infinite, and none of us know how far through our journey we are.
I replayed the events and little snippets of news in my mind. I couldn't make sense of it all. Everything seemed like a horrible, horrible nightmare. None of it seemed real, partly because I was sat in a town that was supposedly a paradise with these painful realities happening to my loved ones thousands of miles away and nobody to talk to about it. The events at home felt so far removed from where I was that it was like recalling a long-forgotten scene from a film. In my mind I knew I had to come home.
The logistics of coming home proved a little tricky. Liaising with companies that keep opposite office hours took its toll on my emotions. But eventually I managed to sort it. I would have to wait two days until the flight, but I was set to return to the UK. Somewhat earlier than planned and bypassing my visit to Asia, the wheels were set in motion to return home. As I ended the call to finalise my flights I took stock of the events of the past few days. Sat on the floor of a hostel corridor at two in the morning, the tears came like a flood. The emotions I felt at that point were like no others I'd ever experienced. I felt grief for my Uncle; sorrow for his family; unbelievable worry and concern for my Mum; anxiety over the logistics of buying a new flight; distress over not being able to help my brother; guilt for being uselessly sat by the beach on the other side of the world; uneasiness over having to wait two days to take action; disappointment and anger over abandoning my trip, and then guilt over feeling angry. The emotions were just too confusing and I cried.
But then I went to bed and got some, albeit restless, sleep. Although my heart was right in its desire to be at home and support the people I love, this time was the clearest example in my life that life is for living. The old cliche of life's too short is painfully real. I had one more day in New Zealand before making my long, unexpected journey. Although I couldn't enjoy it as free-spiritedly as I might have a few days previously, I was going to bloody well live my life the best I could for that day.
What would you do with one day in New Zealand?
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