The Fear of Dying Alone

August 11th, 2017

Today marks my third full day spent in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. It is 7:00 in the morning, and I have barely woken and put on my clothes when I glance outside to see a black 2010 Toyota Corolla outside my host’s house, the driver honking the horn loudly. I stumble down the stairs with a tote bag packed for the day when I run into my host from Couchsurfing.

He has a confused expression on his face since he doesn’t know who could be at his house so early in the morning. I don’t have time to tell him that the person in the car is waiting for me or how I met them. He appears to be slightly hungover from drinking too much of his home-made craft beer from the night before. I wave goodbye to him and tell him I’ll be back closer to 5:00 in the evening. He raises his hand weakly in acknowledgment as I close and lock the door behind me.

The lady sitting in the driver’s seat is from Iran, and I met her a couple of days before while I was meandering around downtown Calgary alone. She found me on Couchsurfing and sent me an invite to join her for a day trip out to Banff National Park. Her name on her profile says Nicky Big. She is an athletic woman in her 50s who’s maybe five feet two inches tall, and her real name isn’t Nicky.

It takes us 90 minutes of speeding down the highway at 110 kilometers per hour to reach the small tourist town of Banff. The small town has a lot of charm to it and reminds me of Ouray, Colorado. Nicky and I both drink our coffee in silence as we stare off into the distance looking at the mountain peaks that are across the lake from Bow Falls, sitting on a park bench.

Another two hours pass without a word exchanged. We drive down the road to the Johnston Falls Canyon trail and hike to both the upper and lower Johnston Falls. We climb down a rock face, and we rest at one of the falls for around 30 minutes. I don’t know what is running through Nicky’s mind, but I find solace in having the time to enjoy new sights and company without feeling the pressure of having to make small talk out of politeness.

On the drive back around 3:00 that afternoon, I notice that the sky is a little less blue than it was this morning, and smelling of burning wood. The forest fires in Jasper National Park made national headlines for the entirety of the week. Today is the first day I take notice of it since I am no longer in the city lost among the skyscrapers.

What seems out of nowhere, from my perspective, Nicky tells me that she is afraid she will die alone. I am drifting away in thought and staring out the window when I ask her why she believes that. She sighs heavily before telling me, “You’re too young to understand. When you get older, you will know what I mean. I am getting old. I’ve never been married, and I’ve never had kids. Who’s going to take care of me when I’m old and dying?”

I don’t have a reply or retort prepared to address her question, so I stay silent and let her continue her tangent. She continues, “What you need to know, Elizabeth is that ALL men are pigs. It’s true! One thing I learned while traveling the world alone is that men will take any opportunity they can to see up your skirt.”

I am beginning to feel a bit apprehensive and comment to her, “I wouldn’t mind dying alone. It would beat having to spend my life with people who make me feel alone.” She ruminates on my statement for a minute. In a mere second, her mood changes completely. For the first time since I met her, I see her smile and unclench her jaw.

I’m glad to see that she’s a bit happier now, but now I’m feeling a bit discombobulated over what just occurred. For the last 45 minutes of the drive, she tells me the origins of Shiraz wine, the history of blueprints, her work as a mechanical engineer, and advice on how to travel in Iran or the UAE if I ever visit. She drops me off at my host’s place and leans out her car window to tell me, “You’re a lovely young woman. Go find yourself a husband and start a family before it’s too late.” I chuckle and tell her, “will do!” before she drives away.

It’s now 5:30 in the evening. I am relieved to be back, as so are my host and his housemate from Sydney, Australia. The two of them welcome me with a pint of the host’s home-made brew, and we proceed outside to sit at the picnic table in his backyard. The anchorman on the local news stated this morning that the aurora borealis will be visible in Calgary tonight.

We sit outside discussing everything from the weird wildlife in Australia to Breaking Bad in New Mexico and the dominating presence of the oil industry in Calgary. All of us relax in his backyard for hours, waiting to see the lights that never arrive. What’s supposed to be a clear night sky is now clouded over by the smoke wafting from the forest fires. I’m not disappointed at all. I am happily distracted, engaging in conversation about travel and world events with my host and his roommate. I forget the events that transpired until two and a half years later.

Afterward

I began to write this piece while I was lounging in a book cafe in Adelaide, South Australia, in January 2020. The fires on Kangaroo Island were raging still, and cases of COVID-19 recently appeared in the town of Port Augustus. Somehow, those recent events jogged my memory of the one spontaneous day trip I took with Nicky Big in Canada in August 2017. As of today, I’m neither in Canada or Australia. I still don’t fear the idea of dying alone, and I’m thankful that I am not alone during this time.