Bali. The place between Heaven and Earth. The island of the Gods. I had little understanding of how true those two statements are, but I was soon to find out.
The decision was made for me before I even stepped foot off the plane home from Egypt. My family is amazing, and decided that two months in Bali would do my broken heart some good. So 1 week to the hour I was back at SFO international boarding another flight to take me to Bali, Indonesia. I didn’t know what to expect, I hadn’t done any research but was excited because Bali was always Adrian’s place between Heaven and Earth. I can recall many conversations in our relationship of his travels to Bali. He loved everything about the island; the people, the simplicity, but especially the epic surf. He beamed whenever he talked about the subject. I met with his mother a couple days before my departure, I wanted to fill her in on everything and let her know I would update her with all my experiences. She, in return, gave me one of the best presents I’ve ever received. Sitting at the dinner table she pulled a small jar out of her purse, and in it were Adrian’s ashes.
“Take these with you, do with them as you see fit, but I think he would have wanted you take him back there” she said.
Suddenly this trip had a completely different meaning.
I flew in with Allie, and we traveled a bit before meeting up with some other friends from San Francisco and settling into a house in Seminyak for a month. Seminyak is a more westernized posh town, not exactly what I had in mind for Bali, but never-the-less a good place to start and get my bearings. I pondered daily slightly frustrated trying to think what and when would be the most appropriate place and time for the ashes. I had no idea where Adrian went when he was here, and I wasn’t able to get in contact with his friends that he traveled with. Different ideas and scenarios ran through my head daily, but nothing seemed fitting. “I guess I’ll just wait until it feels right”, I thought.
After our month, in Seminyak ended, Allie was getting ready to head back to the states, and Kevin and I decided to move down south a bit were it was quiet and better surf. We packed our luggage in a taxi and drove the 20 minutes to Bingin beach. I sat in the front seat with my head leaning against with window as we drove out of the city down a two lane road lined with lush green trees and plants and in the background the occasional glances of the sparkly blue ocean. We drove down a long bumpy unpaved dirt road to a small parking area. We asked the cab driver to wait a minute while Kevin and I set out on foot to look for a place to stay. We walked down a muddy rocky path about 2 feet wide with mud up to my ankles. I looked at Kevin in front of me and thought to myself “were the hell are we going”. There are tons of little home stays scattered along the cliffs there, so we decided to poke around and find one with the right price. The first one we stopped was booked, but suggested we try Leggie’s next door. We walked in front of Leggie’s entrance, and I looked at Kevin and suggested continuing to walk down the hill a little way to be closer to the water, but not wanting to carry tons of luggage down cliff stairs, he suggested we check out Leggie’s first. We walked through the large wood doors into a beautifully manicured court yard area with small bungalow cottages placed around the edges. There were a couple women sitting out, obviously the keepers, so we asked them if there were any vacancies. They said yes and showed us a room. A small well kept clean cottage placed in the back, with two beds, rock flooring, and an outdoor shower. I fell in love immediately and said we would take it. They had a small pool in the middle of the grounds and in the far corner an eating area. There was a small kitchen to order food and the women who ran the home stay would cook it for you on the spot. That night I was swimming in the pool, admiring the completely unblocked clear view of the stars, when Allie called my name from the kitchen area.
“Tobie, come here”, she said.
“Why?” I answered mildly irritated that I had to get out of the pool. I got up and walked over to her standing at the counter.
“Brace yourself,” she said.
Unsure and a little scared as to what she wanted me to see I slowly walked over and peered in the window. There, taped up next to some surf stickers, was Adrian’s beautiful face. The card that was passed out at his funeral that I have seen thousands of times, and have taped up in my own house, was there staring me in the face in Bali. In Bali! In this random cottage, down that random muddy path, next to the place that was booked up, down that long random rocky road past that small beach parking area, down that windy tree lined road with small glances of the ocean in the background- in Bali! Not really going to go into detail about my reaction, but as a sat on the bathroom floor and cried I thought “ He brought me here”. No doubt about it, he brought me here, because this is where he wanted to be, and now I’m here with him. I pulled my face up out of a towel and out loud asked him “Where are you?” No sooner had I said it something came crashing down on the bathroom roof. “Ok, baby, ok.”
Allie left the next day, and I looked at Kevin and said “I don’t know what your plans are, but I’m not leaving this place until I absolutely have to. So we stayed for 17 days.
He brought me there. No doubt in my mind otherwise, and in the three years since his passing I have never felt closer to him. I could feel him in the air, in the trees, in the water. I could see him running down that rocky path and precarious rock steps down to the beach surfboard under his arm to charge the waves. I could see him flirting with the Balinese women who ran Leggie cooking him dinner at night. I could see him sitting on the deck of one of the many cafes overlooking the beautiful Indian Ocean with a Bintang in hand, smiling, just loving his life.
He brought me there. A mother’s intuition is always right. When his Mom gave me those ashes and said “I think he would have wanted you to take him back there” she couldn’t have been more correct. He brought me there. And in some small, but huge way, we were together again. Not physically, but just knowing that I was walking where he walked, seeing what he saw, and experiencing what he experienced was powerful. Maybe he wasn’t holding my hand while I walked down the beach, or kissing me goodnight, but we were together again. He brought me there. And now this place was my place between Heaven and Earth. Truly, the island of the Gods.
So now, in every sense of the words, it was time to let him go. I decided there was no better place than right in that spot. I would paddle out in the place where he caught the best wave of his life and let him be a part of those waves forever. It rained the last four days we were there, but Kevin and I decided to paddle out at sunset our last night. In perfect Adrian style, as soon as it was time to go out, the rain stopped and that beautiful sun poked its head out from behind the clouds. I placed him in the water, watched him spread out and move with the ripples, and move on. With the sun shining on my back I laid my head on the surface of the surf board and placed my hand on top of the water and soaked in the peaceful moment of being out in the ocean with him. He brought me there, and I let him go.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. I know his passing changed my life, impacted it, but more importantly his presence in life and death has shaped my life. He brought me there, here, physically and mentally exactly where I am in my life. He inspired me to do, and I continue because I honor him and our relationship.
One time he and I were out at a bar with some friends, and he leaned over and whispered in my ear “You were always supposed to be mine.” I think about what you did to my life, Adrian, you were absolutely right. As painful as it was to lose you, I’m incredibly grateful that God decided I was supposed to be yours. Because you, my darling, continue to bring me there.
