Newsletter – August 2025
It was 3:30am on a Friday. That’s when I got the call. The phone call that we dread will happen, but we know, deep down, that it’s inevitable. My ‘healthy’, recently retired dad suddenly passed away. When I think back to August, it’s no wonder I wasn’t sleeping much. It had only been a few weeks since my world was turned upside down.
My Father in Switzerland, 1969
The month began with me camped out at my mom’s house, helping her navigate life after my father’s passing on July 4th. Meanwhile, Courtney stayed nearby with her mom. “Hectic” doesn’t quite cover it—life felt like one long to-do list with a stopwatch running.
There was paperwork (so much paperwork), wills old and new, my dad’s personal items to sort, his Buick to clean and sell… and about a thousand errands that all felt urgent. If you’ve ever lost a parent, you know the strange cocktail of grief, logistics, and government forms that somehow need filling out while you’re still trying to breathe.
Add to that the commitments to family, making time for Courtney, and keeping my business afloat—it was overwhelming. Honestly, I don’t think I could have managed without the help of friends, family, and Courtney’s unshakable support (and patience).
The truth is, losing a parent carves your life in two: the version of you before and the version of you after. Words fall short, but that’s the best way I can put it.
Finding Bright Spots
Thankfully, August wasn’t all grief and paperwork. Courtney and I had moments that lifted us up and gave us space to laugh again: trivia nights with my sister and her friends, long walks with my younger sister, live music in little bars (thanks M.H.), marathon catch-up sessions with old high school buddies (Chucks, J.K., S.K.—you know who you are), plus baseball, bingo, cribbage, card games, and a “casino getaway” where we skipped the casino entirely and discovered the waterfront instead.
Discovering Point Pelee via a long and winding canoe ride was a nostalgic and truly “Canadian” experience I won’t forget. That and the all the people in attendance on that holiday weekend- the diversity of Canada’s population sure has changed drastically in the past 2.5 years since we started our journey.
Oh, and I can’t forget the late-night talks with my mom—conversations that will stay with me forever.
These memories gave me something priceless: proof that joy doesn’t vanish, even in hard times.
Bowling Alleys and Turning Points
By mid-August, it felt like I’d survived a five-week “transformation boot camp.” Before Courtney and I hit the road for our next stop in Orillia, we had one last highlight: a joint birthday party at a bowling alley. Not just any alley—the very place where my dad worked as a teenager, manually resetting bowling pins in the 1950s (yes, that was a real job!).
There was something poetic about celebrating life in a place that held part of his story. Between bowling and foosball, surrounded by family, it was the perfect send-off before the next chapter.
Nomadic Life in Orillia
Being nomadic isn’t always easy, but it’s the path we’ve chosen—for now. Leaving my family in Blenheim was bittersweet, but the thought of reconnecting with Courtney’s family in Orillia added excitement to the drive.
Orillia turned out to be a little gem. I joined Creative Nomad Studios as a temporary member—an office space with art-covered walls, a local bookshop, free coffee (essential), and a community of fellow nomads. It was exactly what I needed to get work done without feeling like I was working alone.
Family, Beaches, and Bandstands
Courtney’s family made sure our days were full: ballgames, live music at the Orillia Bandstand, quirky coffee shops, hours spent wandering bookstores, and afternoons on Georgian Bay’s beaches. Add in boat tours from her mom’s marina and endless games with Courtney’s nieces and nephew, and you get a summer of memories we’ll never forget.
Near the end of August, I squeezed in a quick trip back to Vancouver Island to renew my driver’s license (pro tip: don’t let those expire if you live nomadically). While it was surreal to fly across the country for such a bureaucratic errand, I managed to connect with a close friend who had also just lost his father. Our conversation—raw, unexpected, and healing—was worth the trip on its own. (Thanks M.E.)
Gratitude, Plain and Simple
As I flew back east, I couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky I am: Courtney, her family, my family, and the way everyone welcomed us into their lives this summer. There was laughter, there were tears, and there were countless moments that stitched themselves into my memory.
Life has changed since July 4th, and I know I’ve changed with it. But August reminded me of something simple and steady: even in the hardest seasons, family, friends, and a little humour can carry you through.
Tutto Passa – (Italian: Everything Passes).
A Celebration of Life
At the end of August, we gathered as a family to celebrate my dad’s life — and in many ways, to tie together all the emotions of the past weeks. Surrounded by everyone who knew him as husband, dad, or grandpa (and for me, “hero”), we honored a man who lived with love and a wonderful sense of humour. (aka: Mr. Nice Bright Sunny Day!)
We shared memories, laughed through a family photoshoot, battled it out in charades, and even played the infamous family card game Menorka! (Yes, that’s apparently what it’s called. The rules are complicated, but the main point seems to be: chaos.) It was one of those quintessential “King Family” days — the kind I’ll treasure forever.
The most powerful moment came from the video montage I put together. While digging through old recordings, I stumbled on something I didn’t expect: my dad reading a poem at his own father’s funeral. Hearing his voice again, sharing those words at his celebration of life, was beyond moving.
Excerpt from the poem:
If We Never Meet Again This Side of Heaven
by Albert E. Brumley
Soon we’ll come to the end of Life’s Journey
Perhaps never meet anymore
Till we gather in Heaven’s Bright City
Far away on that beautiful shore.
If we never meet again this side of Heaven
As we walk through this world full of strife
There’s an ivory place somewhere in Heaven
Far away from the River of Life.
Where the charming roses bloom forever
And the separations come no more
If we never meet again this side of Heaven
Then I’ll meet you on that beautiful shore.
A New Season Begins – Never Goodbye, just Arrivederci!
After such a day, it felt fitting that Courtney and I turned the page into a new season of our nomadic life. From Canada, we booked a short five-day stop in Ireland before heading back to Sicily for three more months.
When my father passed unexpectedly on July 4th, it shook our world so hard that we weren’t sure if we’d ever return to Sicily, or even keep traveling at all. But life, in its quiet way, sorted the details for us.
Our five weeks with my family and two and a half with Courtney’s gave us what we needed most: realignment. We were reminded that what matters isn’t the schedule or the plans — it’s the time and laughter we share with the people we love.
Since leaving “the farm” back on May 29, 2023, Courtney and I have wandered through 11 countries and counted 826 days on the road. Somewhere along the way, we decided to retire the word goodbye. Instead, we’ve adopted the Italian word we learned — arrivederci! It’s lighter, friendlier, and it implies that the story isn’t over.
I’ll use that same word with my dad. This arrivederci may last longer than I would have chosen, but the memories — hilarious, heartfelt, and everything in between — are with me forever.
So no, it’s not goodbye. It’s arrivederci to family and friends in Canada, until we see them again.
And for now, it’s onward: first to Ireland, where Courtney’s Auntie Annie is waiting for us, and then back to Sicily — the place we’re starting to call our future home.
