Frequent readers may recall that 2023 began with the death of my wife, Susan, from dementia.
A column here about my reaction to her passing generated tremendous response, with some readers sending personal notes by snail mail, while others shared their condolences online or on Facebook.
I thought you’d like to know how I ended the year, and how it involved remembering Susan.
In November I traveled to France for a week to explore the Normandy region. I had been to the Normandy invasion beaches before, in 1994 as a member of the Army Reserve. We were tasked with being there for the 50th anniversary of the allied invasion to assist veterans of World War II who were attending to mark the events.
This time I chose to not return to the beaches, but explored other areas of Normandy, as well as a quick trip to Paris to visit the Louvre and to see a horse show at Versailles.
Honestly, one cannot see one-tenth of the Louvre in a day, and I have a firm plan to return just to spend three or four days in Paris’ premier museum.
Yes, traveling to France for Thanksgiving meant the weather might be rainy and cold, and it was some days. However, there also was a spectacularly bright and warmer day that was perfect for tromping around Versailles, despite the fact that all of the exterior statues were under canvas covers.
Traveling late in November also meant faster times getting through security at the Atlanta airport, since many Americans don’t think of overseas travel for Thanksgiving week. There were also few lines of tourists at the destinations in France.
Susan had spent time in France over the years when her older brother was living and working in Paris for a quarter century. She visited several times and was quite fond of France and its wines.
When we held her memorial service last April in Asheville, I shared small, tasteful containers of Susan’s ashes with attendees, inviting them to spread her in places they knew she had enjoyed.
I had taken some of her ashes to Coki Beach in the U.S. Virgin Islands, which had been our favorite destination for a lazy Saturday afternoon when we lived on St. Thomas while I worked as a writer at the Virgin Islands Daily News.
Friends there provided a fine boat and took me out in the Leeward Passage to deposit some of Susan in her favorite waters.
I knew I wanted to take some of her ashes to France, but I wasn’t sure when or where I would spread them.
It turns out that the best place was in a small town called Duclair, located near Rouen and sitting on the banks of the Seine.
The sky was blue as I walked into a quaint park along the river bank to gently pour some of Susan’s ashes into the river. By now, she is microscopically spread across hundreds of miles of the river basin.
Susan would have loved it.
I have heard from friends who say they spread her ashes along the mountaintops of her beloved North Carolina mountains and along the North Carolina coastline.
I am probably not the only person to take her ashes to France, and I’d like to think that she has also been spread somewhere in the Bluegrass State to honor the days when she played flute with the University of Kentucky marching band.
I would like to take some of her to Indian Rocks Beach in Florida, where we traveled twice after Susan’s dementia diagnosis so she could sit on a sandy beach and feel the sea breeze.
Navigating the public beach access ramp with her wheelchair was fairly easy, and she was able to use her cane to move 50 feet onto the beach for a few hours of people (and seagull) watching.
I am looking forward to growth and adventure this year. I hope each and every one of you see 2024 as a time for focusing on good health, good friends, fine food, unbridled happiness and a growing curiosity about exploring the world around us.
—Jonathan Austin