I’m a traveler at heart. I love journeys, I love the discovery of new places, new things, and the return to favorite spots, the timeless memories they encompass. Since I was a child, family vacations were always an exciting time, and I looked forward to not only the destination, but the journey to get there as well. My greatest travel adventure took place last summer, my first overseas trip to Ireland. I was not surprised to find that I loved it there, and I loved the journey to get there.

It was time that shaped my life. The company of old and new friends, new experiences, and a glimmer of the familiar were molded the days of my life in Ireland. Somehow, in a way that only traveling can be, there was a normalcy to each day, and yet an ongoing adventure every morning I woke up; a duality of emotion.

Returning from a good vacation, or an exciting overseas adventure is always a bag of mixed emotions. I returned from Ireland happy to have experienced a new culture, made new friends, and with some great stories as well. I also felt an indescribable sadness to leave that behind. Though I know I may someday return—something I would certainly hope to do—I know that I will never have that trip again. The memories we had of our class times, adventures on random Irish roads compliments of the GPS, and shared laughter are all things that can’t be repeated. No trip will ever be the same, and that isn’t really a bad thing. Still, I returned with a sense of sorrow and loss knowing that it was over.

My mom always described the days after a good vacation as bit of a letdown. You just had an adventure, something fun, with good memories. Returning to normal life is an adjustment, and sometimes it takes a bit. But always the trip quickly becomes a memory, and one starts looking to the things of the future. New adventures, daily routines, and the demands of what we call a normal life shift the focus from the sorrow of leaving the trip behind to the excitement of the future and the unknown. And you move on; never forgetting that trip or vacation, or the memories of them, but not dwelling on their departure. I’ve been though many trips like that; Ireland was certainly no exception.

I still have days where I miss the trip to Ireland. Sometimes it’s a word, or a song, sometimes it’s reminiscing with friends; either way the joy of that trip never really leaves. Yet I also don’t spend every minute wishing that I was still in Ireland.

Right now, I feel like I’m at the end of a good trip. A chapter of my life is closing, and with it comes some sorrow and pain at leaving something behind. But it also comes with the promise of a life ahead, filled with more joys, sorrows and memories. Life right now is not about crying over the closing chapter, but crying tears of joy for the wonderful memories of the pages that are now past.

Losing someone you love is never easy, and it will always have moments of intense grief. Especially when that loss comes at a time and an age when it never should. But like a good trip, the memories are still there; the good times will never be forgotten. There will be those moments of letdown, and longing to return to a moment of time that just flickered past. But there will also be times of looking ahead to the next adventure; the next chapter.

Just like a book, a life has a past, a present and a future. In a book, the reader follows the story, turning the pages, taking in one page, one line at a time, moving forward into the future of the book. In life, time is the mover of the pages. And just like a book, the chapters yet to be read depend on the chapters that have closed. The joys and sorrows of what have past are necessary for the story to develop and continue.

For the Christian, the end of the book is known. Reunion with the Creator, loved ones, and a world as it should be are all promised and await the completion of this short novel of life on earth. What is not known are the pages that complete the start of that story to the end; and in those pages the adventure is found.

The book of my mom’s life is now complete and closed. She has started a new story; one without an ending and one infinitely more full and complete than this dim shadow of what we call life. With the completion of her book comes the closing of a chapter in my own life. As with the end of a trip, I’m sad, and I long for just a few more pages of time. But my story doesn’t have those pages, instead an adventure that is too big for me to see yet is just starting. It can only begin if the last chapter closes. I rest knowing that I have much joy in the pages ahead, and that I can look to another story at the end of this one; one without death, pain and loss. A story that starts with the reunion of what was lost in the closing of my chapter. A reunion that does not end.