Signs Along The Way: My Month in Francefeatured

In October 2023, I booked flights for a month-long solo trip to France. My husband and I had visited Europe twice in 2023 and had begun dreaming of retiring there one day. I’d been reading about the Occitanie region in southwest France and wanted to explore. And I was tired – tired from working, and tired from our ongoing and unsuccessful efforts to find help for our son Andrey, who was battling mental illness and addiction. I told my husband that I had a sense of “impending doom” and needed to run away from home.

A week after booking the flights, my son died. Andrey was 31. (You can read about his story here:https://wapo.st/3Qm7hue) For two months, I didn’t leave my house except to go to therapy and scatter my son’s ashes. Until December, when we went to Barcelona to escape Christmas. The first night in Barcelona, we were robbed. And though we made the best of our trip and saw the sights, my heart was not in it.

As my planned trip to France drew closer, I wasn’t sure whether to go or not. I hadn’t taken a solo trip for longer than a couple days for nearly 40 years. Then, I was adventurous: I went parasailing and rented a Jeep with new friends and drove into the jungle near Puerto Vallarta. But in my present state, I wasn’t adventurous enough to leave my house most days. Many days, I didn’t even bother to shower. I avoided people and cried at the drop of a pin. Who am I kidding? I still do.

Yet in early 2024, I began making reservations and proceeding as though I might actually go on the trip, booking refundable rates so that I could change my mind at the last minute. And as the late February departure date got closer and closer, I began to feel more confident about going. I decided I could spend the time reflecting, reading, perhaps doing some writing. And that being in a place without memories around every corner might be more therapeutic than talking to the therapist who I’d stopped seeing.

And so in spring 2024, I found myself in France. I was gone 31 days, took 4 train trips, rented a car and drove 1273 kilometers, staying in 12 different places – more than initially planned because two of the places I’d booked didn’t meet my expectations and I checked out early and found other accommodations. I saw many beautiful places, made some new friends, drank good wine, ate delicious food, walked along beaches, and read seven books. I also lit candles for my son in every church and cathedral every chance I got. Sometimes, I thought I could feel his presence. One time, I was about to light a medium-sized candle when there were some large ones, and I could almost hear him saying, “Really, mom? Really? You can’t even get me a big candle?”

One morning in March, I woke up to see the most spectacular sunrise I’d ever seen just outside my window in Marseillan and I felt that Andrey might be trying to send me a sign. While combing through his old Facebook posts, I’d come across a spectacular photo of a sunset with the caption “Warning: never forget.” And it struck me suddenly, that maybe the picture was actually a sunrise rather than a sunset.

Since Andrey’s death, I’d hoped and prayed for some type of a sign that he was OK, that he was at peace and no longer suffering. On a sunny Saturday morning in late March, I went to Pezenas, a charming town with a busy market. I strolled through the town, browsing the stalls and then stopping to listen to a couple of musicians singing “Stand By Me.” I tossed a couple Euro coins in the guitar case before continuing my exploration.

A while later, I was walking back in the other direction and the melody of a song by the same musicians caught my attention. I’d never heard it before but as I drew closer, these lyrics made my heart skip a beat: “I am crying, now I am dying, now I am flying, I am free.” I stopped to record them as my eyes welled up and caught just the end of the song on video… “Coming home now, you’ll be healed, you’ll be free.” And then at the end, they waved at me.

After that, I met a woman for coffee who I’d connected with on Facebook. From Colorado, she was also in France for a month, scoping out different places and Pezenas was the first time our paths actually crossed. It was great to have someone to talk to.

After coffee, we walked around the town together, and as we passed those musicians again, they were now singing “Knock knock knocking on heaven’s door.” Again, I could hear Andrey in my head: “This is just in case you didn’t realize it was a sign, Mom.”

That night, I watched the brief recording of the musicians on my phone and could make out a few additional lyrics, and I found the song – “Sailing” – on YouTube, or at least the basic song because the lyrics they sang were a little different than the YouTube version. The melody and some of the lyrics are the same, but these words I felt were a message for me: “I am crying, I am dying, now I’m flying, now I’m free” and “Coming home now, you’ll be healed, you’ll be free.”

Here is the Rod Stewart version of the song Sailing: https://youtu.be/FOt3oQ_k008?si=ODsH90jwDFa_jBO

The song was written by Gavin and Iain Sutherland. In an interview, here’s what Gavin had to say: “Most people take the song to be about a young guy telling his girl that he’s crossing the Atlantic to be with her. In fact, the song’s got nothing to do with romance or ships; it’s an account of mankind’s spiritual odyssey through life on his way to freedom and fulfillment with the Supreme Being.”

And this makes sense to me as a sign from Andrey, who had created his own YouTube channel and recorded songs there, including one titled “Messiah please save me. ” I went back looking for that link and I found it: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kfwRoiUpeos

But what I also found was a heartbreaking video I’d never seen. Andrey created multiple YouTube channels and on one of them, there are 199 videos, many of which have one view or no views. I believe this one was recorded shortly after he checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice. He had a broken eye socket and brain bleed and though I miss him fiercely every day, it’s a tangible reminder of how much he suffered. He can barely form words in this video and is clearly in a lot of pain. (It’s titled “pain Russia has died” – based on his nickname for himself): https://youtu.be/mqkH5N5yHYg?si=xwUwYmonYDobQvIx

I wish I could tell you that I came home filled with peace, that the trip eased my grief. It didn’t. But it was like briefly pushing a pause button, one I desperately needed. I am working again, leaving my house regularly and I even shower almost every day now. On my trip I learned that although I’m broken-hearted and probably always will be, I’m not actually broken.