Today is 1st May 2022. It’s been a year since my
beloved father went to his heavenly abode.
Time flies…Time heals. I’ve heard these words – now twice over – at
each of my parent’s funerals. You’ve probably heard them too. Or even spoken of them to someone. Well intentioned. Well-meaning
words. The question I'm sometimes asked by people who experience loss is - how does one get to this time and point in space where
time appears to have flown and wounds have healed (point B)? The journey from point
A to point B, so to say. That is quite a journey. Almost mystical to some, unassailable
to others. At times this journey is smooth sailing through calm placid waters; at
times its through rocky points which one steers clear of – never to drop anchor;
and at other times the rough waves almost threaten to deluge and sink.
Let me
share my journey of this past year with you.
Buoyancy:
My first feeling was that of relief. In the immediate aftermath
of Dad’s passing away. Relief that his suffering was over. Relief that he had
now moved on to a better place. Relief that the uncertainty was over. Relief
that my caregiving days for him were done with. Much as I considered it a privilege
to have taken care of him in his last months and moments, it was difficult.
Physically and emotionally. So, there now was relief.
Along with the relief was a feeling of dissociation. Some
call it numbness. I differ. It was a stepping aside of myself from myself,
while I saw myself doing what needed to be done in the hours and days that
followed – makes sense? This brought in its wake, a deep abiding calm. Not a
tremor in my hands, not a tear, not a break in my voice. While I observed it
all. With that calmness was a deeper certainty that I was being guided through
it all. By a higher power. That God had a place and time for everything and a
means for it too. That observer in me, seemed to know when to let go and experience
the loss, to shed the tear, to remember, to hold on, to reach out. And I did.
Awash:
I found solace in talking about my father. With relatives,
friends. People who called me a few weeks and months later. And patiently listened
to me. Like writing, talking about dad’s last few weeks proved cathartic for me.
And I found myself remembering. Remembering quiet moments spent with Dad. Remembering
how I felt loved by him. And these remembrances happened during quiet early
morning walks inside my house (remember it was the peak of covid lockdown), often
to the tunes of Enya (I know not why, but after listening to gospel songs in
the immediate couple of weeks following the funeral, I found Enya suited my swirling
feelings later).
Often these remembrances brought with them, rivulets of
tears down my face. And I let them flow. They needed expression. They brought with
them a dark sense of loss which appeared to weigh down my soul in that moment.
And I let myself experience that darkness, that weight in my chest. I let myself notice the myriad hues of darkness and weight. As my hands
and feet moved in tandem and my eyes searched for visual clues that brought
memories, my emotions swirled inside. For a while. I also experienced that when
I reached its depths, the observer in me let me know and the weight lessened.
The black darkness became grey mists, never white…not yet. And through it all,
was the certainty that I was on a deep sacred journey. A difficult journey of
discovering myself anew. And that I would know when I was done with grieving.
Anchorage:
I know not when this happened. Long periods of not grieving and then suddenly
a thought, a word, a visual cue - that brought with it a sudden pang of sadness,
while few drops of salt unknowingly found their way to my lips. And at other times,
memories brought with them rueful smiles. They existed in tandem – the tears
and the smiles. Then more smiles than tears. The darkness eased into lightness.
And through this phase came the understanding that its ok to grieve. Even if I’m
the odd one out. Even if it’s oftentimes scary. Even if people may say that its
time to move on and their timelines do not coincide with mine. Even if the grief
is for a parent who has had a good long life.
I have found that grieving takes courage. Extraordinary
courage at times to avoid the easy route of distraction and avoidance. The courage to be
vulnerable…to oneself. To find the still small voice of silence…to find meaning… in the depths of grief. Avoidance
is easy…giving expression takes courage…going down the slippery slope of grief is
an act of faith. Finding toeholds to bolster oneself back up takes greater
courage. I have understood that one can 'grieve well'. I have found beauty in its depths, unexpected succor. A deep
understanding that I may have just walked through the valley of the shadow of death
and found God's healing and comfort.
Moving on is inevitable. The pathway to healing of the grief wounds is different
each time…for each person. I now know that time heals, and the healing takes myriad
forms. Oftentimes leaving behind scars in its wake. Scars which have beauty.
The hallmarks of courage, learning, experience, empathy. These scars feel light
enough to fly in time.
This has been my journey this particular time. We each have our own unique journey...customised for us.
Yes, Time flies and Time heals…and lets embrace the beautiful scars they leave behind.
As I sit down to write, I take a moment to close my eyes and ponder – Is
there one word that would sum up my experience of the year 2021? The word that
springs to mind is ‘Resilience’. I pause…take a moment to turn to my trusty
Google to check on my understanding of the word. Here it is “the capacity to
recover quickly from difficulties; toughness”. Circumstances brought that out
in me.
The
year started with a lot of anticipation and joy. It was to be a landmark year
for me personally as I thought I would be reaching the wisdom of my magical ‘50th’
year. Least did I also expect that this wisdom would arise from the crucible of
personal loss.
Confronting my own unconscious bias - A year when,
not only did I see a tsunami of loss and despair around me in due to the lethal
2nd wave of covid, but also during it all, I’d had to grapple with
the disbelieving news that my dear father was suffering from a so called
“taboo” disease - Pulmonary Tuberculosis. During my younger years, I had only heard of this ailment
affecting others – never spoken of in my adulthood. Never
spoken of in the circles of my family and friends. Almost as though this
disease is not prevalent, despite the prevalence of shadowy remnants of
isolation hospitals in town. I later learnt of three known people in my own
social & family circle who have recovered from this. We keep quiet. And
there lay my first learning – confronting my own unconscious bias.
From
wondering how on earth my father could have contracted this infectious disease
especially in a year of not stepping out of the house, to learning from many trusted
doctors that it is latent in about 70% Indians, only to surface when the body’s
natural immunity falls low. Like it did in my father’s case. Old age and lungs
weakened by years of asthma did it for him.
From
the initial numbness, I quickly jumped to learn what precautions to take, its
prognosis while simultaneously confronting my own fears - for my health and
that of my immediate family’s. And learning that in India, the medical protocol
is not to test and treat immediate family but treat only active cases, and to tell
caregivers to take precautions by wearing a mask etc. That it might not ever affect us if our immunity is good. I also found that I not
only had to educate myself on this but also our well-wishers. Because, well,
very few know as it’s usually not talked about. What I do know now is that this
needs to be diagnosed in time and the prolonged treatment, though tough on the
body, be completed for complete recovery. And this can happen to anyone,
anytime, even if we are vaccinated, as we all are, should we be immuno
compromised. I am reminded of this every time, I read medical advisories on
covid, advising patients with 2-3 weeks of persistent coughing to test for
tuberculosis.
Developing
resilience demanded that I not only faced my own fears of an unknown disease
but also ensure that I gave my father love and care so that he did not feel
stigmatised by any word or action. Of course, to cut a long story short, there
was a domino effect on an already frail body and other more serious ailments
came to the fore, leading to his passing away within a short span of a month.
Holding sacred spiritual space – I experienced that being by the side of a
loved one as they leave this earthly abode is profound and moving. I was
holding a sacred spiritual space – the cusp of the known to the unknown. A
connection. A giant leap of faith. With it came a calmness and resilience such
as I’d never experienced before. As dad’s soul left for its heavenly abode, I
found grace enough to say a prayer and wish him well. A profound stillness, a deep
thankfulness to be with him in that moment. To have had him as my father. I hope I am able to hold this space for others to - at work, in conversations - even as they evolve into new awareness of themselves.
Grieving well - I’m glad. Yes, I can say that now. Though
the cognitive mind at the time took over and told me that its best he did not
suffer, the deeper emotional ‘Daddy’s girl’ in me missed his presence. Having
lost my mother a decade ago, it now felt as though the umbrella of my parent’s
prayers, grace and blessings was lifted from my head.
As I
remained physically confined within the 4 walls of my house the next few months
due to the covid wave, I took refuge in stillness & contemplation as I
slowly worked through my grief. As my husband told dad’s palliative care doctor
a few months later, and I know not how I did it, but I had “grieved well”.
People grieve, but what is to grieve well? And that’s my second learning – It’s
important to grieve well. I learnt that it is not about sobbing and anguish.
Though it may be part of the journey for some. For me it was about taking
comfort in remembrances – at times in stillness, with gratitude and at times in
conversations with loved ones. To remember, let go and let the memories be. At
my own pace. There is no right or wrong method, no right or wrong time.
The bird on the tree - I also experienced that God in his infinite
mercy sends us little signs of comfort and grace if we but look for them. For
me, it was the bird which would sit on the tall tree seen a short distance from
my window. A few months before his death, my father had once pointed it out and
mentioned that this bird(s) always tends to perch on the frail tallest point of
one of the three ‘Ashoka’ trees. It was his favourite way to pass the time –
watching nature. I had never noticed them before. A few weeks after of his
death, when my heart felt heavy, I looked out the window and there was this
little bird, perched on that very same tree. That bird gave me a sense of connection,
of comfort, of continuity and hope. And in the immediate weeks and months that
followed, whenever I remembered my dad, I looked out for the bird on the tree.
I don’t know how but it remained faithfully perched whenever I most needed it
be. I rarely see it now. Seasons change and so do needs. Look for the signs.
They are all around. If we but stay still, observe, and make meaning of them.
Listen to that still inner voice.
Be prepared to surprise yourself - I had always
despaired that I tended to lose focus midway. As I look back on the year gone
by, I have found that I surprised myself. I have persisted consistently in
certain matters to get sustained results. Persistence crept up on me,
particularly in matters of adhering to a healthy lifestyle. This happened when
I shifted focus from what I ‘did not want’ to ‘what I wanted’.
Be prepared to be surprised by the generosity of others - This year also brought home to me how much love, strength and support I've received from others - my immediate family, extended family, friends who have become family - you know who you are, friends, neighbours, colleagues, medical fraternity. Be it a call, a text, a listening ear, a word of encouragement, advice, a hug - I am overwhelmed that so many cared enough and more. Not just once, but over time. Resilience was bolstered by love. My heart is full of gratitude! I hope I can give at least some of it back and also pass it on.
This 50th
year of my life has certainly been a watershed year. Even as I lost my earthly
father, I came home to the wisdom of another dimension of myself. Coming home to a sacred space
of openness, stillness, resilience, gratitude, hope and comfort. Enough to give of myself
to two other close friends who also lost a parent the same year. I’m glad I
surprised myself. Here's to 2022 with gratitude and hope!
In November 2012, I wrote a poem ('An Ode To My Mother') just before my mother passed
away , a catharsis of sorts for me, which left my father very moved and touched.
This year, in the weeks and days before my father died two weeks ago, I wanted to write something for him. Even got down to writing a stanza or two, but it went down the drain of the delete button. The timing did not feel right. Till now.
Reflecting now on the experiences of both my parents’ deaths,
I realise that the one did not automatically prepare me for the other. Both have
been different circumstances totally. While both instances were difficult and
draining on the caregivers, a major difference was that the world, as we knew
it, had turned topsy turvy in the past year. Caring for a critically ill person
at home during a pandemic was no mean task, given the difficulties of getting medical help and
support. Add to that the sheer pandemic health related uncertainties
of going out on a hospital visit - for both patient and caregiver. Feelings of helplessness prevailed at times
when the sheer number of parameters to be monitored for his overall comfort overwhelmed
me. Each of these two experiences of the loss of a parent taught me that the feelings, experiences of each grief are unique. And to be open to experiencing them as they unfold, as each bring different learnings.
But between the demises of my parents, one commonality remains.
Death is certain, for everybody. Whatever the circumstances. Death is stark, definite, final.
Others may be by our side, but the final journey is ours alone. The two most
important journeys of life – being born and dying – are experienced alone. Aided by our personal faith. Our faith, hope and beliefs define the facets of this intensely personal last journey. And my parents were prepared. Am I? Are we? As certain as death is, its timing is uncertain -to us. As my father's doctor told him, "While we all will die some day, some time, let us enjoy our lives in the meantime".
As I was experiencing anticipatory grief, before my father’s
death, I remember asking myself this question - With the grim visuals of lit funeral pyres, and
newspaper statistics on young, unexpected covid related deaths spiralling in
the country, do I have a right to grieve for my father? After all he has lived a
relatively good life to the ripe old age of 88, in relatively good health. In
fact, someone close to me did say something to this effect to me. I
deliberated, talked to palliative care professionals and the answer came within me –
Yes, I do. A loss is a loss and its ok to grieve. It is not dependent on age,
circumstances, cause or the unexpectedness of death. Grief is intensely personal.
It does not preclude or compare with another’s grief. And a parent is a parent,
whatever one’s age. So, I gave myself permission to grieve. And in grieving, I empathised not only with my father but for also the numerous deaths that are
happening around. In grieving even when he was alive (during the last few
weeks of his life), I found that I could cherish every single moment I had with
him. I strove to take snapshots in my memory and on video, of fleeting experiences
that I would cherish. Every moment stretched and expanded in the personal
timeline of my experience. I breathed in his being – his strength, beliefs, faith,
perseverance, discipline and love.
In the very act of preparing myself to let go of him, I
found myself becoming strong. Not for him, but for myself. Because I knew I
wanted to be there with him in his last moments, the way I had heard he was
there for my mother at her last. And I hope I was. Strong, composed and in the moment.
Privileged to sit by his side and glimpse the journey he made to the heavenly
world. That last slow breath as he gave up a life valiantly fought, is
something I will remember to my end. I will remember not in grief, but in
gratitude. Overwhelming gratitude for the life that was Dad’s. For being
fortunate to have been his daughter.
As I continue to ponder the life that was my father, some key
attributes some to mind. I write here of things left unsaid by me at his online
memorial (M J Thomas - Memorial Service).
1.Love – is a verb I associate with my father. Understated,
yet persistent. When I was 15 years old, he told me – “I want you to remember me for
my hugs and kisses”. And I do. He toned down his hugs as I grew older, but I sensed
the love, nevertheless. It was there in every expression, action, and word. Not
only to me. But to others. In connecting with others. And giving space when required. In letting others be. He was master of that. I cannot remember him hurting anyone with deliberate
words or actions. Among his last words of advice to me was to “Love everyone". I had hoped he felt my love for him in his final few weeks and my heart was uplifted when he softly told me one day towards the end "You are marvellous. You are taking care of the house and of me very well.”To live my life in love – I hope I can
reach at least a tenth of how he did. As a verb…doing…living it.
2.He radiated calmness. Circumstances rarely
flustered him. He never carried resentment to heart. He was ever forgiving – of
himself and of others. One of his last words of advice to me was to accept
everything that comes in life as if it comes from God and has something good
for us. To me, a person who tends many a time to get flustered and flutter my wings when
things get angsty, this is an attribute I strive to achieve. To be calm during
the storm. His deep abiding faith in God
surely helped him. Not a ritualistic faith, but a deeper personal experience of divine love and guidance.
3.Self Discipline defined his being. And contributed to
his satisfaction. Discipline of finances, health, and lifestyle. He lived well within
his means. He saved more and spent less. I think this is a characteristic of
many people of his generation. He did the best he could, in every thing. He had the discipline of eating moderately and on
time, sleeping and waking up on time, of exercising when required. But was
willing to adjust when required. He also allowed me to be just the way I was. Ready to support whatever decision I took. His discipline led him to record important events in a diary. A gift of himself - for us to remember. He largely went by the clock. His last few
hours were also spent watching the clock. His discipline made life for the caregiver so
much easier. I could surely do with more discipline in my life in certain
areas.
As the sun rises on the next phase of my life, living only with the spiritual presence of my parents in my heart,
I realise that like grieving, remembrances are also deeply personal. Memories
are what our experiences leave behind and they are ours, always.
Let us creatememories of sharing, caring and love.
Memories remain when the soul
is long gone. They live on in our hearts.
They are enough. As we are. Let's be kind and patient to ourselves.
P.S. I can now say to him in my heart: "Daddy, you have always insisted that I print out my key blogposts for you to read and appreciate. You loved recording events. This one is for you. With much love from a daughter to her loving father. Till we meet again. I hope you enjoy reading this from above. ".
Lockdowns, Shelter in place, Janata curfew, Social distancing- all bywords of these corona times. With upward spiraling Covid-19 positive cases across the world, organisations and particularly retail sales are grappling with equally perilous downward spirals in sales. Instead of jargons like L2L and MTD numbers, I hear retailers now talk in terms of percentage achievement of pre-covid sales figures - 40%, 50%....
As the world grapples with a new way of living, people are slowing coming to terms with a new normal, a new way of living. And selling needs to quickly adapt to a new way of consumer buying. Of course, as online sales surely establishes itself as a preferred 'safe' means of purchase, retailers scramble to assure customers of 'safety' in purchase experience in order to drive footfalls to the fast diminishing numbers of viable brick and mortar stores.
While customers will surely tend to limit spending to what they perceive as essential needs in uncertain times rather than what they'd desire or aspire for, it becomes crucial for every store to maximise every hard earned walk-in. So what becomes important in sales interactions in these times? Creating covid sensitive rapport becomes all important - that which helps create lasting impact and relationships .
Some outstanding elements I'd observed recently in service interactions, which I feel contribute to rapport creation with customers in these times:
1. Emoting with the Eye -
It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. In these covid times, wearing of masks becomes mandatory. In the absence therefore of visibility of other facial expressions, the eyes emote. Learn to smile with your eyes & talk with your eyes with customers. Soft eye contact remains all important. Recently, as I was quarantined at a hotel on my return from international travel, I was deeply impressed by the ability of staffer at the front desk to do this. She was so adept at communicating with her eyes, that it gave her an innate ability to connect with the guests as compared to others who couldn't.
- Did her eyes leave an impact on me? Yes.
- Did I mention her name in my reviews on social media and feedback to the hotel? A big definite yes.
Our eyes convey emotions.
2. Energising voice -
In the absence of complete visibility of facial expressions, the voice becomes all important in establishing rapport. Add the twin factors of social distancing and mask - and your customers will hear muffled sounds if you speak to yourself. You can convey energy only through your voice. Let me share an outstanding example of this. In the said hotel where I was in quarantine, the Chef made a mandatory daily call to the rooms to understand our needs. It used to be the high point of my day. Sight unseen, the Chef's voice conveyed hope, optimism, care, energy and a zest for life.
- Do I remember his voice? Yes.
- Did I mention his name in my reviews on social media and feedback to the hotel? A big definite yes.
Our voice leaves impressions.
3. Giving space -
Forget the one arm distance rule & the handshake - they are a thing of the past for as long as covid shall last. The only comfort we can give is the comfort of space, and plenty of it - yet being around to assist when required. Forget crowding around and/or the favourite old pastime of walking behind and hounding a customer. Learn to juggle space with stepping in when required. Again in said hotel, food used to be served on a table outside our room door at specified times. The server would keep the food, ring the doorbell and stand 6 feet aside respectfully as we took in the food. Yet, his smiling eyes were ready to step in and assist if required, once i stepped back of course.
- Do I remember his deportment now? Yes.
- Did I mention his name in my reviews on social media and feedback to the hotel? A big definite yes.
"Service with Space" is the new mantra.
4. Listen to what is unsaid & exceed expectations -
Conversations are difficult to have with customers, particularly keeping in mind social distancing and the need to have short conversations. Forget about striking a conversation to understand needs. As a customer, I'd rather not have a person transmit the virus to me through talk. Listen - & observe (the ears & eyes) to pick up cues of interest. We made a simple call to the Chef to understand if we could have lunch from the dine-in restaurant at the hotel the next day. He said yes, of course. Said day came and we were blown away by the fact that the staff had dug deeper to find reason for our request - a birthday spent in quarantine and they went all out to make it a memorable one. Another case in point - On one of our daily phone conversations I complimented the Chef on a couple of dishes he made, also casually inquiring about the ingredients used. The next day I was asked if I would like to have the written recipes of those dishes! I said yes of course. And I did get it about 2 weeks after I got home. No follow up done.
Pick up from what is left unsaid - you only need to be curious. Look to exceed expectations.
The customer will buy what is needed. What we need to focus on now is to create lasting impressions and impact through rapport building - the ties of which remain through thick and thin, through normal life and the new normal.
I'm on the last leg of the 14 day covid19 institutional quarantine period, post a trans-pacific travel ✈️. The body is locked up in a 17"x12" room, however the mind is free to roam. And roam it does, and brings to mind the last enjoyable travel I did on my own to Jaipur aka the Pink City, last November. So much has happened post that, that reflections on this visit took a backseat. Now triggered, without doubt, by my recent reading of Alka Joshi's book - "The Henna Artist". 📖
If you've been reading my blogs, you may recollect that I had written a piece in 2017 on the reactions of people 👀 when my other half did a solo holiday trip. And if you've not, you could read it if you wish - Separateness in togetherness. Well, in Nov 2019, I had a work related visit to the city of Jaipur in Rajasthan. Jaipur was always on my 'must visit' list of places, so I worked things around such that I'd get a day before and after my work schedule, to see Jaipur - solo. Yeah, finally! 😁.
Well, as is usual, I did my research of places to visit, things to buy et al. I was all set to land in Jaipur (a city established in 1727) a day early, so that I could take in the sights of the city. Fortunately or unfortunately, my flight was a good 5 hours delayed, throwing to the wind my scheduled sight seeing plans for the day. Well, I adapted.
Unexpected sights
I was fortunate that I got chatting with the driver of the very first Uber I booked for a late evening visit to my first planned port of call, the Hawa Mahal (loosely translated as the wind palace - owing to the windows where women folk of the palace would stand and look down at the going ons below). I must say that the sight of the Hawa Mahal by night (my first view, owing to the delayed flight),
trumps that by day. Don't you agree?
You see that pink colour? Well, just imagine that reflected in most buildings dotted across the city... giving the city it's moniker of 'the pink city' .
Coming back to my story, the Uber driver was a mine of information, and he suggested sights which I had not planned for. Moral of the story - check with the locals as they may have better ideas than the visitor. What did he suggest? A late evening light and sound show at the Amber palace at the outskirts of Jaipur, which was simple amazing.
A view of the Jal Mahal (water palace - by the way, I read that 4 floors are under water) by night was also thrown in
As also a daytime view on a later day... I'm sure your agree that there sure is charm in the beauty of the night 🌃
Remember, this was a working trip... So once the work day was done, I explored the handicrafts of the region. From the traditional bangles made of lac (a gummy substance obtained from an insect - know more about it here https://www.worldartcommunity.com/blog/2018/11/love-for-lac/) ;
Gorgeous Kundan jewellery;
To hand crafted joothis (can't figure out if it's a case of the joothis making the feet look beautiful or vice versa 😂, comfortable too);
And the unique Blue pottery of Jaipur (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_Pottery_of_Jaipur).
I bought it all. What I did not buy were the more common Jaipur hand block printed sheets etc., which were not the flavour of the month for me.
By the way, did I tell you that I'd packed more space, less luggage for my onward trip? 🛅😂
Uber sights by day
Come the weekend, and the real sightseeing begins. The same Uber driver, with whom I'd struck a deal for a days trip, reached right on time and we attempted to pack in as much as we could in 6 hours (I was scheduled to fly out the same evening).
First, we went back to the scene of the light and sound show - Amber palace. Eschewing an elephant ride up to the palace (been there, done that),
I was left astounded at the architecture of times begone - with walls and ceilings hand painted in gold and natural colours;
The natural ventilation for the summers (indoor waterways)
Adapted as well for the winters (tiny mirrors which reflect candles lit at night to bring warmth).
A visit to Jaigad fort, brings alive the water harvesting techniques within the ramparts of the fort.
Then the visit I had been waiting for... The city palace.
The blue room redefines the royal blue colour of my imagination....
The candle light reflections on the walls of the Sheesh Mahal (mirror hall). As you can see, this view is just with 2 candles. Now imagine this room with a 1000 candles💯)...
The inlay of meenakari (a process of enamelling) workmanship on the walls of the Gold hall...
The guides sure know the best spots and angles for pictures, pandering to the inner dormant royalty in us...
Wouldn't you agree that the tour of the palace rooms is worth every penny of the 3K I paid? Unfortunately many visitors don't. I'm glad I did.
Not to forget that the courtyard of the palace is house to this large silver urn (Gangajali) which finds a mention in the book "The Henna Artist". It's supposed to be the largest silver object in the world and can carry upto 900 gallons of pure water from the Ganges for the king's bath on the voyage to Britain. 🛀💦 Really? I'd opt for this 🚿 everytime 😂
After the city palace, I just had enough time for a quick tour of the Albert hall museum. It pales in comparison. Nevertheless, it's replete with artifacts from across the world, including an Egyptian mummy.
A quick pick up of my luggage and it's back to the airport for the flight home. 🔙 Replete with the sights and sounds of a historical city, I'd only heard of.
A feeling of accomplishment that it was a solo trip gone well 😎...Communion with the soul, a being of oneness with the self.
Indeed there is separateness in togetherness too (refer my blog Separateness in togetherness for the reference). I'd surely recommend it to all women (and men, in case you haven't had a chance to have a solo vacation... after marriage, that is 😊)... At least once in a lifetime...I'd suggest you put it on your 'to do' list, post this covid period. As the ad says... "You are worth it" ☺️
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