In February 2022, my father-in-law, Finn, was given a year to live.
He had peritoneal cancer, a rare type that affects the abdominal lining. Although it was everywhere and incurable, the doctors told us it likely wouldn’t cause him significant pain until near the end.
So, over a Scotch, I asked him what he wanted — if there were any people he wished to see or places he longed to visit. Somehow, I felt a strong need to fulfill his final wishes.
Turns out, he wanted to travel.
Although Finn had retired to a farm in rural Denmark, he had always been the adventurous type — moving to California in the early ’70s despite not knowing anyone there, traveling through the Soviet Union in the ’80s, and taking his family on vacation to Uganda and Kenya in the 2000s.
Knowing he only had a year left sparked a return to that thirst for new experiences of places, people, and cultures.
At first, the idea of traveling together felt almost daunting. Chemotherapy had already begun taking a toll on Finn, and we wanted to make sure he’d have access to reliable care if his health took a turn for the worse.
Plus, I knew my husband and I would both have to take a mix of paid and unpaid leave and use every holiday weekend we could in order to make it work.
Given the weight of Finn’s diagnosis, however, we all felt a quiet intensity surrounding every decision and interaction. A few months later, we took a leap and embarked on our first big trip to Seville, Spain.
During our travels, I saw a different side to Finn
When we arrived in Spain, we spent time wandering the streets, marveling at the sand-colored buildings, decorative arches, and lush plant life in courtyards.
Finn was immediately struck by the smells, the vibrancy of the streets, and the sound of parakeets flying overhead.
Rather than the somewhat apathetic attitude to life and social interactions we saw him adapt at home, he seemed different on this trip. He wanted to experience everything he could.
Still, he was far from a perfect visitor. In a sherry bar, where none of the staff spoke English, he decided he wanted a cup of tea.
His solution to the language barrier was song and dance, complete with a mime demonstrating a teapot. At the time, I was acutely embarrassed, but now, the memory is one I’ll cherish forever.
By the end of the trip, he wanted to know where we would head next. His ability to cope with the cancer treatment seemed to hinge on having fixed plans to look forward to. However, I worried he needed more rest than he was allowing himself.
As Finn’s health declined, we learned to travel differently
That fall, we took a trip to the Orkney Islands, an archipelago off the coast of Scotland. By then, Finn’s mobility and energy levels were noticeably lower than they had been in Spain.
I even had to veto an extended tour of the St. Magnus Cathedral, a structure that my father-in-law had been deeply moved by.
However, we adjusted to his energy levels, prioritizing slow breakfasts together and short walks that allowed Finn to feel connected to nature.
He skipped a tour of a whiskey distillery, but managed to explore the magnificent sea cliffs, much to my surprise.
Overall, we took six trips over nine months. Throughout our travels, friends reached out with well-intentioned concerns about us exploring the world with him. But, in some ways, it felt like we were only just hitting our stride.
Still, we couldn’t ignore the gravity of the situation, and the doctor’s predicted time scale proved spot-on. We took our final trip together to Scotland at the end of 2022, where Finn blamed his lethargy and nausea on food and drink.
However, it was becoming clear to me that this was the end of our travels.
I’ll always be grateful for the experiences we shared during his final year
Later, from his hospital bed, he told relatives and friends all about our adventures, recommending the best views in Orkney and must-visit restaurants in Poland.
A few months after our last trip, Finn passed away.
At his funeral, people I hardly knew told me how inspired they were by his enduring thirst for life and new experiences. And to be honest, I was too.
My father-in-law taught me how to work through challenges and find positivity even in the toughest of times. Rather than waiting for that momentous occasion — a big birthday or anniversary — I learned that spontaneous and imperfect experiences can be even more meaningful.
Plus, our travels together created a bond among my husband, his dad, and me that I still feel privileged to have experienced.
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