When a Hard Day Lands on a Holiday in Jamaica

A hard day on a holiday can stay a hard day.

By Neil Solomon · 3 min read

Picture a couple named Ruth and Alan. They moved to Jamaica a few years ago. The house is warm, the garden is green, and most days they feel they chose well. Then a hard thing happens on Christmas morning. Their old dog, who came with them across the sea, does not wake up.

I think this is one of the quiet-seeming hardest moments of living far away. I do not mean the loss alone. Any home can face that. I mean the day it lands on. A holiday is built to be shared. Back home, there would be a sister to phone, a neighbour to knock on, a table already full. Here there is the two of you, a shovel and a long morning.

What stands out to me in stories like this is how ordinary the grief is. It is not about Jamaica. It is about a pet who was part of every day, and about the people who knew that pet and are now many hours away by plane. Grief over an animal is easy to hide, because some people expect you to be brief about it. On a holiday there is even less room. Everyone else is busy being cheerful.

Distance changes the shape of a sad day. At home, a loss is held by many hands. Abroad, you may have to build those hands. Some people find a neighbour who steps up. Some find a vet or a helper who is kind in a way they did not expect. Some find that the new place has its own way of marking a loss, and that it is gentler than they feared.

I also think it is worth saying that the holiday does not have to be rescued. Ruth might tell Alan, later that day:

"I keep thinking we should be doing something festive."

"We could just sit with him a while," Alan says. "The festive part can wait."

That seems right to me. A hard day on a holiday can stay a hard day. It does not need to be fixed by noon.

If you are weighing a move, it may help to picture a hard holiday, not a happy one. Who is within reach? Who would you ring, and what time is it where they live? How would you feel if the day went wrong and nobody who knew your history was nearby? These are not reasons to stay or go. They are things worth knowing about yourself before you pick a place.

Many people also say the sadness fades into something softer. The garden gets a small marker. The day becomes a quiet remembrance, and the new home feels more like yours because it has held something real.