The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
A week of peace taught me how to live with loss
A solo, simple trip to Halkidiki helped Jill Halfpenny face her grief head on, begin to heal – and find the motivation to go on
In January 2017, my partner Matt died unexpectedly from a sudden heart attack, aged just 43. It was my 42nd birthday six months later, and – still utterly bereft, floundering under the weight of his loss – I didn’t feel like celebrating, or even spending it in England. And I couldn’t bear the idea of going on holiday with someone who might constantly be asking if I was alright. That sounds awful, because all anyone wants to do in those circumstances is make you feel better, but I needed to be away in my own company – doing what I wanted, when I wanted, with the sun on my face.
And so, in July, I went away alone for the first time, to Ekies All Senses Resort in Halkidiki, Greece. The hotel had a private beach and the idea in my head was that I’d never have to leave if I didn’t want to. I could stay in the tasteful bedroom with lovely rugs and crisp white linen, sit by the bar having lunch, and in 30 seconds I could be on the beach, swinging in a hammock. I didn’t want hustle and bustle – just somewhere low-key and chilled.
The resort attracted an international clientele so no one knew me as “that girl who’s on telly sometimes”. It was about being anonymous, about nobody knowing who I was or what had happened. People look at you differently when they know.
Everything I did on this holiday was gentle, soothing and healing – apart from when I arrived and I was lying on the bed thinking how peaceful it was, then heard a couple enjoying themselves loudly in the room next door.
One day, I hired a paddleboard as I’d brought along a small amount of my partner’s ashes to scatter in the water. Matt was a real adventurer and would have loved to think he was in the middle of the Aegean Sea. I put the tiny tub in my bikini top, and was doing alright to begin with – until there was a movement in the sea which knocked me off balance and I fell into the water. The tub was dislodged and, when I got the ashes out, they were clumped together and went into the water with a plop. It wasn’t how I imagined they’d be scattered, but I laughed – I thought Matt was probably laughing, too.
On my birthday, I hired a bike and rode around exploring for hours, stopping at various beaches and having some food. I had a lovely day, and I don’t know whether I was looking for signs or just open to receiving them, but when I returned it, I noticed the crossbar was branded “Matts”.
One night, I went out to sit on the jetty. There were bean bags and it was beautiful, with lamps in the water. I was reading a book by a Buddhist nun,
I thought, ‘I am here, and I’m alive, and I get to live another day’
Pema Chodron, and doing Tonglen meditation, where you breathe in – for want of a better word – the badness of the world and everyone’s pain. You then exhale, releasing it all.
I remember sitting there thinking how, when you are in these situations, it’s so easy to ask, “Why did this happen to me?” – and of course that’s a natural feeling. But amid all of these thoughts, I suddenly felt a weird sense of gratitude and peace. I thought, “I am here, and I’m alive, and I get to live another day.”
A couple of days later, I was back on the jetty sunbathing. There was a guy there and we got chatting. When I asked if he was on his own, he said: “I am now. My girlfriend’s just left and I’m staying on for a few days.” Without thinking, I said: “Oh! She’s the squealer, isn’t she?” He burst out laughing and we bonded over that.
That night we went for dinner together; two strangers asking each other about their lives. The next day he invited me to sit on the sun lounger next to him. He was reading an Andre Agassi biography and he’d recount tales from the book. I’m not a tennis buff, but I’ve always been slightly obsessed with Andre Agassi. His story is fascinating and is all about adversity.
A friend of mine had told me to watch Love Island as she thought it would be good escapism for me. I had headphones on and was laughing my head off at Kem and Chris dancing. This guy would ask what was funny and I’d show him and he would tell me about Agassi. I didn’t see him much after that – we got what we needed from each other and it was really nice, but I needed to retreat again and to grieve.
Travel is such a different experience when you are on your own – you get to know yourself a bit more. It’s rare to get time on your own like that in everyday life, and it’s something I’ll definitely do again – and that I’d recommend to other people. You go deep, somewhere different. I wouldn’t say it makes you feel invincible, but it gives you an inner strength to call on which puts you in pretty good standing for when the next thing comes along.
Grief humbled me; it got me on my knees and I learnt to understand other people more. I used to have an idea that a holiday meant decadence, but that holiday was so simple. We hear phrases like “self care” and “be kind to yourself ” all the time now, but when you are away on your own – when it’s not about looking for external affirmations – there’s a real opportunity to do this.
When you’re not conversing with anyone all day, you delve into yourself, and sometimes it’s not as scary a place as you might think.
Actress Jill Halfpenny will appear in The Holiday on Channel 5, which airs on consecutive nights from Tuesday March 1 to Friday March 4 at 9pm