19-05-2025
How I helped my son to heal from heartbreak through travel
At 53, I thought the hardest parts of parenting were behind me.
Sleepless nights, teenage dramas, the occasional questionable haircut – I survived them all. I thought we were coasting to calm waters. But life, with its savage sense of irony, had other plans.
In March 2023, my 19-year-old son Ben was standing on the edge of his future, ready to leap. He'd spent a year working nights pulling pints at Longleat Center Parcs, saving every penny for a ski season in Banff, Canada. It wasn't just a holiday; it was a dream – a launch into adulthood, freedom, adventure.
Then came the call that shattered everything. His father – my former husband, an RAF squadron leader – died suddenly from angiosarcoma; a rare, aggressive cancer linked to exposure to aviation fumes. In one brutal moment, Ben's anchor was ripped away.
The ski season was cancelled. His dreams crumbled. Ben, who lives with ADHD and usually buzzed with energy, grew still. Too still.
He tried to stay busy – pitching bell tents at festivals, pouring pints – but drifted, lost in his grief, and the final straw, splitting up with his girlfriend, his heartbreak pouring out in love songs scratched alone into the walls of my garage.
It was agonising to watch. How do you heal a soul shattered by loss? I didn't have the answer – but a desperate call to an old friend, a travel agent at Suntrek Holidays, offered a spark of hope: a group tour through Southeast Asia for 18 to 35-year-olds with Intrepid Travel.
When I suggested it, something flickered behind Ben's tired eyes. With the steady hand of my new partner Pete, a former dive master who lived a few years of his life on Thai islands, we helped Ben map a rough route beyond the group tour – a path into solo travel.
In May 2024, with a brand-new rucksack and a heart still heavy, Ben trepidatiously boarded a flight to Hanoi.
The travels which followed were nothing short of epic, each stop another stitch in the fabric of his recovery. He landed in Vietnam, exploring the bustling sensory explosion that is Hanoi, the limestone cliffs of Cat Ba Island, and the surreal river landscapes of Ninh Binh.
He wandered the ancient citadel of Hue, meandered the lantern-lit streets of Hoi An, and absorbed the fast pulse of Ho Chi Minh City.
In Cambodia, he felt the heavy weight of history in Phnom Penh, relaxed on the beaches of Koh Rong, explored the pre-Angkorian temples of Sambor Prei Kuk, and marvelled at the grandeur of Angkor Wat in Siem Reap.
Then onto Thailand, where Bangkok's chaos and nights on Khaosan Road gave way to island bliss on Koh Kood and serene sands on Koh Samui, Koh Phangan and Koh Tao.
He trekked through Khao Sok National Park's ancient rainforests, soaked up the creativity of Chiang Mai and the bohemian calm of Pai, before looping back through Phuket, Krabi and Ao Nang.
The journey took him next to the Philippines, where he navigated Cebu City, dived in Moalboal, refused to swim with whale sharks in Oslob (after much ethical debate), embraced the magic of Siquijor and drank, but didn't surf, in the surfing haven of Siargao.
In Malaysia, Ben got lost – and found – in the cityscape of Kuala Lumpur.
Then he crossed into Indonesia, to North Sumatra's Bukit Lawang, a place that would change him forever.
It was here that Ben joined an orangutan conservation project (booked through Malaysian Wildlife), and met a mentor he'll never forget: Embera.
'What can I say about Embera?' Ben later wrote to me. 'He's about 60, from Java, and has worked at the project for a decade. He's a man of few words but with a heart bigger than the jungle.'
Over two months, Embera became Ben's guide – not just through dense rainforest, but through life lessons. He taught him which flowers soothe bee stings, how to de-tail a scorpion, which ferns are edible, and how to skin a banana tree for food.
He had an uncanny ability to spot orangutans where others saw only leaves.
Despite the language barrier, Embera's mischievous sense of humour and generous spirit broke through. Ben gave him the nickname 'Raja Hutan' – King of the Jungle – a title Embera, ever humble, accepted with a shy smile.
In the jungle's ancient silence, Ben found the guidance and fatherly kindness he so desperately needed.
By the time we reunited in Phuket for Christmas, I barely recognised him. He'd shed his grief like a skin. He spoke with the calm certainty of someone who'd faced himself in silence – and found a new confidence. Along the way, real life delivered its lessons far better than any nagging mother could.
His good looks meant he had to fend off unwanted attention from all directions, becoming a reluctant but increasingly diplomatic escape artist. Somewhere along the way, he self-appointed himself a chaperone for lone female travellers, often acting as an impromptu big brother to those who looked vulnerable.
He missed flights, made costly mistakes, lost money he couldn't afford, and discovered that living like a pig wasn't sustainable: leave dishes out, and the ants, lizards, rodents and highly unwelcome bugs would move in with enthusiasm. Fire ant invasions have a way of teaching urgency and cleanliness no parenting lecture ever could.
Out of necessity, Ben learnt to wash up promptly, stay organised, do laundry regularly, and manage his own life in a way no amount of reminders from me ever achieved. He grew alert, responsible, prepared – and, above all, independent.
But Ben's journey didn't end there. Next he circled back through Thailand – Phuket, Koh Tao, Koh Phi Phi, Koh Lanta – a dance between discovery and reflexion.
He ventured into Borneo, across Kuching (Sarawak), where he stayed for three months as conservation volunteer for sun bears and again, incarcerated orangutans, which made him question some of the ethics of conservation.
Disheartened and conflicted as he departed the project, he headed to Pontianak (West Kalimantan), and Kota Kinabalu (Sabah), expanding his world with every step.
He will finish his travels with a final stretch in the Philippines, where we will rendezvous and travel with him for three weeks before he heads to Marine Conservation Philippines to qualify as a dive master, learning the same skills as my partner, Pete, who planted the diving seed in his mind.
He was reluctant at first, harbouring a deep fear of the ocean. After his first two dives, he sent me a message stating 'I am fish' – and never looked back.
This September, Ben will return to the UK, heading to Falmouth University to undertake a degree in video production – a course secured, in part, by an extraordinary reference from one of his conservation project leaders.
In the space of a year, he's transformed from the broken boy who couldn't see past his next shift, to the young man standing with camera in hand, ready to tell his own stories.
As a mother, letting him go was terrifying. Watching him set out alone across continents felt like a gamble against all my fears. But now I know: we can't always shield them from life's cruel twists. We can only prepare them to weather the storm – and trust that, if we've done our job right, they'll find their own way.
And as he steps into the next chapter, I'll be cheering him from the sidelines, backpack at the ready, for when the next adventure calls.
Ben says...
Vietnam: Hanoi
'It's where it all began'
The vibrant capital of Vietnam, Hanoi is a whirlwind of scooters, street food and rich history. For Ben, the city's chaotic energy marked the true start of his travel journey – an unforgettable experience of culture shock and excitement.
Cambodia: Angkor Wat
'The world's biggest temple'
Exploring Angkor Wat – the largest religious monument in the world – was a surreal highlight. The ancient temple complex near Siem Reap offered Ben a profound sense of wonder and a glimpse into Cambodia's majestic past.
Thailand: Phi Phi Islands
'Love the Reggae Bar'
Ben's memories of Thailand shine brightest on the Phi Phi Islands, famous for their stunning beaches and nightlife. The legendary Reggae Bar, known for its lively atmosphere and in-bar Muay Thai fights, became a stand-out moment of his Thai adventure.
Philippines: Siargao
'Chilled out for a month'
