After that wake-up call, the fog had completely dissipated. I was empty inside. I wasn’t happy at all—I was temporarily emotionless. Empty. I barely left the house or went anywhere outside of doctor appointments, cardiac rehab, Winners, the bank, and home on repeat until we went to Barbados.

Travelling to Barbados was a new experience for both of us. We had both been traveling a lot ever since Trent was a baby and long before people were hopping on flights like it was the GO Train and usually to the Caribbean Sea or the Pacific Ocean. Trent’s heritage on his father’s side is Bajan, and I wanted him to have that experience before my time was up. Barbados was an island on the other side, it was new for both of us.

We lucked out with this resort—The Sands. We got an amazing deal, and it was absolutely gorgeous, picturesque—exactly what I was hoping it would be. It was perfect. Couldn’t ask for a better setup!

The last time I traveled with Trent, he was 17, so it had been a minute. We upgraded our seats, we were comfy as fuck, and everything rolled smoothly. Trent, being in the CAF, has privileges with Air Canada—massive baggage allowance (whoot!) and pre-boarding.

We arrived in the late afternoon, just in time to settle in a bit and go for a dip in the ocean. We walked the beach at night. The stars were incredible, and I loved that Trent wanted to walk the beach. He knows some shit—a lot of shit. Trent is a wealth of knowledge. He can tell what time it is just by looking at the sun, and he was updating me daily on the UV index, teaching me about the ocean and the sky, things I never knew. I was impressed by him—proud.

I wasn't sure how this vacation was gonna go, but I learned on that trip that he is the perfect travel companion for me! Unbeknownst to me, I had raised him to be. He and I had been traveling since he was a baby—he had the program down! Wake up, breakfast, beach, maybe a dip in the pool around 4-5, back to the room to chill for a bit, get ready, and go to dinner, walk the beach at night. We were on the same wavelength. And like a moth to a flame, my vibe always attracts a tribe.

We had drinks in the evenings with different people we met along the way. There were a lot of Brits in Barbados—I was told by my Bajan cab driver that they call it 'Little Britain.’

There were a few hoity-toity sourpusses there—I paid them no mind! The people we met and hung out with were pretty cool, and they played a part in making it a great vacation.

Day 1: Trent and I were having piña coladas on the beach when this lovely lady swung by—like a breath of fresh air, super friendly—Peggy from Bristol. She was my age, and had two grown kids of her own, we hit it off. We had some deep conversations in the ocean—as that seems to be a recurring thing for me.

I was emotionally coming around—the numbness of the state I was in was wearing off. It was December, and ever since that night in the hospital when my heartbeat was out of control, the words from that one nurse stuck with me always: You need to stop thinking about whatever it is that’s causing this—mind over matter!

For the longest time—I did just that.

I remember lying in bed that night, in the hospital forcing thoughts of her—Kayla—out of my mind. From that next day until that crazy nostalgic episode in Cayo Coco in September, I didn’t think about her. I had forced the pain, the rejection—all of it—out of my head.

December rolled around, and this trip with Trent turned out to be an emotional one for me. I was in a weird place—I was in limbo.

Peggy was endearing. I opened up to her in the ocean about my surgery and my daughter. What a fuckin’ year eh! Can you imagine being on vacation, and some rando chick you meet in the ocean tells you she had open-heart surgery just months ago and that her daughter abandoned her? Wow. Ya, I did that! That would send most people running.

But she didn’t run. She consoled me. It was her last day of vacation and my first full day.

The ocean is a depot for me, for my pain—it pulls it out of me.

I was grateful to have met Peggy, she set the tone, for my vacation.

Kayla was on my mind. By this time, I started piecing together how it all went down with her. I was beginning to acknowledge the aftermath of her abandonment—not just for me, but for Trent.

I don’t think Kayla realized the impact her absence had. She didn’t just walk away from me—she walked away from Trent. She left everything on him, whether she realized it or not. Her younger brother—where was Trent going? Nowhere! It’s not like he even had a choice, but he stepped up. Trent looked out for me; everything that needed to be done that I couldn't do, he did. I sent Trent away in April because I didn’t want to burden him with my surgery issues, but he came back in September, and shit with me was still going on, and he chimed in like a fucking champ! I thank God for him every single day. We had gotten used to being a duo instead of the trio we once were. Trent never spoke on it, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out there was a void there.

One night, we met Ben and Sadie, brother and sister from the UK. They were younger, Ben a couple years younger than Trent and Sadie was 19. They were traveling with their parents. We were about four or five days in. After dinner, we were all hanging around the outdoor lounge that was right beside the restaurant and in between the pool and the ocean. This resort was so perfectly designed; it was quaint, and I just loved it!

So, there was a group of us—'Party Marty,' hahaha! He was on the plane with us. Him, his young son, and his semi-hot yoga wife, Sandra, who I swear she was trying to fuck my son! This couple was funny as hell! She was all la de da, energy drink this, kale smoothie that, Lululemon la la la. Then there was Marty—Marty was searching high and low for snow! Hahaha! The second day, Sandra was apologizing for him saying, ‘That’s him, everyone calls him 'Party Marty.' We loved Party Marty! He was a fun guy. He just wanted to party, and he was on vacation—why wouldn’t he?!

We ended up chartering a yacht, The Eclipse, with those guys. It was a ‘catch and cook.’ We caught a few barracudas, they cooked it up, and we ate it. It was delicious, and I’m someone who doesn’t really do fish, but to my surprise, it was tasty. We swam with the turtles, saw the ship from Pirates of the Caribbean—it was an excellent day!
By the end of the trip, I’m pretty sure they were divorce-bound. Both of them were sick of each other’s shit. A divorce for those two seemed long overdue. They were entertaining as hell, though.

We were all drinking. It was a beautiful night, and I wanted to go into the ocean. Sandra was disgusted with Marty again, she didn’t want to hang, so she went back to her room. It was dark as fuck—black sky, and the stars were just glowing! It was stunning!

I was still squawking about going into the ocean. Oh, I was going in, but I wanted company. Sadie—cute little Sadie—and I got to talking. I started getting all emotional and shit, and I cried. At one point, I was crying hard, and Sadie was basically holding me like a mother would hold her child. I was telling her about my daughter, how we became estranged, and how much it hurt me. Sadie was like, “You wanna go in the ocean? Let’s go!” Yay! We walked down to the ocean, barely 6-7 yards away, took our clothes off, and had a dip. Sadie was legit interacting with my soul that night—1000%! Her words and her gestures were soothing my soul.

Post-ocean dip. This pic for me, says a thousand words!

I think about these people—Esther, Peggy, Sadie… it’s like they were sent to help me get it together. I can remember every interaction with each of them vividly. I don’t remember all the words that were spoken, but I do remember exactly how they made me feel. They were significant. They were put on my path—they are a part of this journey.

They had a fancy, hoity-toity rooftop restaurant, à la carte “Noir”—with a dress code in effect. We had a reservation near the end of our stay. It was lovely, the food in Barbados, in general, is most definitely the best food I’ve had anywhere. Later that night, I was lying on the bed watching TV, and I noticed my stomach had ballooned out, like I was 9 months pregnant, and it fucking hurt. And the zapping in the right side of my chest was fucking zapping!

It felt like I was being poked inside my chest with a stick or electrically shocked from within. It was scaring me because I have seven wires in my chest, and as you can see from the X-ray, they’re all poking in different directions. I thought one of the wires was jabbing me internally, causing pain.

That was the beginning of my journey to learning my new body.

Barbados

The Stomach

Eastbound

Heart To Heart