The gentleman at the sea: an elderly relocation to Canada in the midst of the pandemic

The gentleman in the seat next to me closed his eyes in silence, as he dozed off for the second half of our flight to Canada.
For a 95-year old he was exceptionally sharp and so full of life. For the last few hours he had enchanted me with his colorful travel stories. Being a former businessman, his work had taken him to a dozen Caribbean islands and almost every Latin American country, before he fell in love with a small fisherman’s town at the Pacific coast of Guatemala. He sold his company in Canada, kissed his adult kids goodbye, visited his wife’s grave one last time, hopped on a southbound plane and started living again…for the next thirty years. It didn’t bother him that he had spent 65 years of his life wondering where on earth he truly belonged, because, as he put it, it was never too late to love and live. “Amar y Vivir” he repeated in Spanish, with a smile on his face.  I believed him: it must have been the sparkle in his eyes, or the enthusiasm in his voice, speaking straight from the heart.
 
But sadly, all good things come to an end. As much as Guatemala became Home, it was time to leave. Dementia, cancer, near-blindness, a nasty fall…the problem list was getting too long. It was no longer responsible to live alone. The kids, now grandparents themselves, decided to move him back to Canada. To be closer to family. To get the care he needed. And one day, to be buried next to his wife.