CHAPTER 11: MILES OF MEMORY

Still Coming Home: 

A Quiet Journey of Healing and Breath

For my mother, whose kindness still teaches me how to breathe.

Miles of Memory

The pain of losing Mom pressed into every corner of my day, yet I knew I needed to move, to let my body, my mind, and my heart travel, even if just for a while. 

So I set out on a road trip, alone.

Nine days, ten stops, countless hours behind the wheel.

From home to Port Dickson, Malacca, Johor, and even a day trip to Singapore to visit my ex-pat yoga students. 

I drove through sunrises spilling gold across the horizon, sunsets painting quiet pinks and purples, highways stretching endlessly ahead. 

The motion of the car carried my grief along with the miles.

At each stop, I paused and allowed myself to be fully present. 

In Port Dickson, the sea breathed in rhythm with mine, each wave brushing the shore like whispered comfort. I stayed at Avilion, indulging a little, creating a safe cocoon for myself after long hours on the road. 

In Malacca, cobbled streets and old walls held stories, and I stayed at Hatten Hotel, letting their calm cradle my thoughts. 

In Johor, at DoubleTree by Hilton, I rested fully, the soft sheets and warm light wrapping me in safety, giving me permission to grieve, to cry, to remember.

In Singapore, seeing familiar faces of my former yoga students reminded me that connections endure, even across distance. Each encounter, each smile, felt like a quiet balm on my heart.

Driving alone became a moving meditation. The hum of the engine, the stretch of the road, the passing clouds; they became companions for my grief, mirrors for reflection, guides for my heart. 

I imagined Mom smiling in the clouds, her presence folding gently into my awareness, her lessons echoing in the rhythm of my breath.

This journey wasn’t about escape. It was about presence, being aware of my grief, my memories, my love, and letting each mile soften the sharp edges of loss. 

Slowly, with every turn of the wheel, every pause, I felt my heart soften; the sharp edges of loss tempered by motion, beauty, and quiet solitude.

Pause and breathe; what stirred within you?

Notes / What I Felt:

Grief moves with you, but so does love.

Travel becomes a mirror for reflection.

Every mile is a meditation

Solitude can be a gentle teacher

Every pause a moment of gentle healing

Small acts of presence carry the memory of those we’ve lost.