Rebelling Against Happiness
Created | Updated Feb 24, 2024
Rebelling Against Happiness
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Ever said, "I think I've died and gone to Heaven"?
Yup, probably, but have you ever said it then actually wondered if you were dead?
Nope? Probably not the kind of thought that crosses most people's minds, but I'm the type of person who rebels against any form of 'selfish' happiness. . .
After a thoroughly rubbish 18 months, (admittedly shared with most of the rest of the planet), we decided we'd bite the bullet and book yet another (probably doomed to be cancelled because of bloody Covid) holiday.
Travelling during a global pandemic did nothing to quell my hodophobic tendencies, travelling for the first time since our honeymoon without the kids was equally daunting.
My mind rebelled immediately against the thought I'd actually enjoy myself.
What would we do without the minidisco, how would we survive a week devoid of theme parks and playgrounds, how would we spend all that time not rounding the kids up for breakfast, entertainment, day trips, teatime, bedtime, how to not keep one eye permanently on what the kids were up to, etc etc etc?
What on earth would we talk about, alone in the sun for a week with no family duties to perform. Mum and Dad off duty for the first time in 23 years!
OK, we'd had a few weeks of being empty nesters now, our youngest settling into university life, the house suddenly very, very quiet, but work kept us busy and shifts kept us out of each other's hair for most of that time.
But now a week with no distractions - could we go back a few decades, and be the carefree couple we once were before we became Mum and Dad?
Surprisingly the holiday wasn't cancelled! Third time lucky!
The flight out (apart from losing the bloody big airport multi-storey car park 20 feet away from where we were parked) was a doddle, empty airport, very little queuing, flight on time, other passengers surprisingly un-annoying. OK, wearing a mask for four hours was a drag, but necessary.
Landing in the sunshine was great. The blank looks from the rep when we asked where our transfer was�.erm�.not so great.
The downside of choosing somewhere decidedly un-touristy - no-one had heard of the place, no clue about how we got to the hotel, no idea as to which side of the island we were supposed to be on even.
A puzzled rep, however, was a joy to behold, instead of getting worried or angry, we actually found it amusing.
So we sat in the sunshine and patiently waited for someone with an actual idea to come talk to us.
No rush, didn't have to be there in a hurry, no hungry kids to worry about, no nappies, prams, grumpy teenagers. . . wow, this was weird. . . no stress!
Eventually (45 minutes of drinking coke in the sunshine later) a very apologetic holiday company manager orders us a taxi. Totally missed us of the manifest, only two of you off the flight going there, you see?
Apologies, and are we sure we didn't want one of the places more popular with the other Brits? Erm, no thanks!
An hour later, in the middle of nowhere, at a hotel on the rather windy but beautiful beach, sun shining over blue water, we finally booked in.
A week spent relaxing, enjoying each other's company, we talked endlessly, laughed easily, walked along miles of empty beaches, got lost, ate and drank in fantastic cafes and bars.
I think we truly found each other again that week, turned the clocks back, remembered why we loved each other, reconnected in a way we hadn't actually realized was possible.
Everything was perfect.
Heavenly even. Hadn't felt this relaxed in decades.
Halfway through the holiday I had a dreadful thought. My mind simply rebelled against all this happiness.
This couldn't get any better, absolutely perfect.
Heavenly, in fact, I thought, as we chatted at a table over drinks, the sun perfectly warm, the beer perfectly cold, the food perfectly delicious, the staff perfectly charming, my wife perfectly perfect.
Think I've died and gone to Heaven, I thought.
Then that uneasy, but very me-kind of rebellious thought, a queasy kind of thought - what if I had?
If I could imagine what my Heaven would be like, this was it!
Oh Jeez, what if I'd actually popped my clogs and this was my afterlife?
My wife smiled that perfect smile when I told her of my daft thoughts.
"Would it be that bad if it was?" She teased.
"Erm, no, but. . . "
"You really think Heaven would be just us two?" Again that perfect smile.
As perfect as that week was, I knew I'd miss the kids, miss my grandson, couldn't resist putting my Dad hat on again as soon as we got home. My rebellious thoughts quashed as she leaned over and kissed me. OK I missed them, felt slightly guilty for enjoying myself so much.
But, for the time being, I was more than happy to spend another few days in Heaven.
Thank you, my angel, can't wait for the next one. . . but maybe one more time with the whole family?
