March 8, 2014.

A dream come true moment. Wide-eyed, they face North as the fairytale architecture reveals itself against the pre-dawn sky. Like a wedding guest watching the groom’s reaction instead of the bride’s entrance,  I face away from the Taj Mahal and towards a group of women who have overcome unbelievable odds to stand in this moment.

They sit patiently as our guide regales us with stories of a 17th Century Mughal Emperor and the monument he built to memorialize his enduring love for his wife. Yet, as soon as the guide offers them 45 minutes of free time, they are like school children, clamouring to soak in every second of the experience.  Grateful for an opportunity to set down my camera, I find a bench and revel in the cool air and the beauty of the morning. Deirdre joins me and we talk in hushed voices about how lucky we are to do this work. To give cancer survivors an opportunity to expand their stories beyond illness while giving back to the world. We trade ideas about how we can expand the North American and International Fresh Chapter Alliance Foundation programs in 2015.

The sun warms my cheeks as people of every shape, size, and colour flock past us to pay homage to the most beautiful tomb in the world.

“I’m going up, do you want to come?” Deirdre asks.

I shake my head. I’ve been to the Taj twice before; I don’t need to go back through the mausoleum. Instead I want to sit and relish the peace of this moment. The gratitude for everyone and everything that has led to this evolving dream. But, as I watch Deirdre’s frame grow smaller, I remember the previous year and how the cool marble under my fingers had fuelled me with awe. I am overtaken with the need to get that feeling back. I check my watch. I’m cutting it close, but if I hurry I can make it and still be back to meet the group for our departure.

“Wait up. I’m coming.” My voice sounds shrill against the calm of the morning.

Deirdre turns and smiles. As we mount the steps to where the Taj Mahal waits, my throat tightens and black spots surface in my line of vision. I shake my head and keep walking. A barricade blocks our path and as I scan the horizon searching for the entrance, my breath becomes shallow and dizziness descends. I paw through my camera bag, searching for the covers I must put on my feet to be granted access to the tomb. I can’t find them.

“Deirdre, I can’t find my shoe covers.” My voice is high pitched and panicked. We’re running out of time. 

She looks at me, her brow crinkling in concern, “They’re in your hand. Are you ok?”

I force a laugh and tell her I’m feeling anxious. She asks why and I have no answer. So, instead I pull at the collar of my shirt, take a couple of deep breaths and tell myself to stop being ridiculous. I’m at the Taj Mahal. The last two years of being here have filled me with joy. I look up, determined to keep moving, but now my left contact lens has fogged and I can’t see through the cloudiness. I stand, blinking with indecision.

Finally, I turn to Deirdre and say, “Go on without me. I have no idea why, but I need to turn around.”

I retreat back down the stairs and as soon as I reach the ground, my vision clears. The air feels roomier and the anxiety begins to dissipate.

What was that about? I ask myself as I walk back towards the bench. I have never had such a visceral reaction to something that posed no threat of danger. Something that only a year before had filled me with light and happiness.

The phrase stop trying to re-create the past pops into my head.

The longer I sit, the more I realize I don’t need to touch the Taj Mahal again. The experiences from the last two years are still within me. Peace replaces the anxiety of moments before. As I wait for the group to join me, I’m grateful for the reminder to stop reaching back in search of strength and power. The reminder to trust that everything in my life has prepared me for this moment and that it’s time to step courageously into the future.

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As the summer ends and many of us embark on a new school year and a new opportunity to start fresh, I can’t help but think back to this moment. So often, we cling to the past long after it’s time to let it go. Whether it’s a job that is no longer serving us, a friendship that has changed, or a relationship that has become toxic, we hang on instead of being grateful for what it has taught us and moving on.

Perhaps Joseph Campbell said it best, “We have to be willing to let go of the life we had planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”