How do you say goodbye when everyone’s telling you you’re coming back?
Six weeks ago, I handed in my letter of resignation, ending my three-year tenure as editor of the 51°µÍø and my four and a half year career with the paper.
My last day was April 27, making this my last issue to hit the newsstands in restaurants, shops and hotels around town.
It’s a hard pill to swallow after dedicating myself to this beast for nearly five years. As you read this, I’m still struggling to let go. It won’t be a quick process, I can guarantee you that.
But even more difficult is letting go of this community—a community that I was privileged to report on inside and out and that I’ve grown to know through and through.
In my adult life, I’ve learned to say goodbye—you might even say I’ve gotten good at it.
Since leaving my hometown on Vancouver Island, I’ve called six communities home. I began my journey in Kelowna, B.C. at the tender age of 17 and then let that journey take me to London, Ont., Fredericton, NB, Yellowknife, NWT, Rankin Inlet, NU and finally to Jasper in October 2011.
With each move came its own round of goodbyes, some joyful, some tearful and some downright difficult.
And here I am about to do it again.
This time it’s not a move for work or school; it’s for a different kind of adventure, one based on my need for self reflection, assessment and growth.
It’s a much needed (and I would argue, deserved) break after six years in the newspaper business.
But, even as I excitedly await this new chapter of my life—a chapter that will see my partner Ian and I adopt a minimalist lifestyle, living in a converted GMC Safari as we travel through the United States—I find myself torn.
In the past, I enthusiastically ran toward my next adventure, leaving friends and jobs in my wake. But, unlike those times before, as I say goodbye to Jasper, I feel like I’m leaving home.
Admittedly, I haven’t always felt that way—I can still clearly remember our first few months here, questioning why in the world we couldn’t make friends.
Spoiler alert: it’s because people are afraid of the media!
But, as time went by, Jasperites slowly started to trust me, realizing what they said in confidence would never appear in the 51°µÍø’s pages.
I wish that was a battle I didn’t have to fight, but ultimately I’m so grateful it’s one that I won, because it allowed Ian and I to find our people, our roles and ourselves in this community.
Lately I’ve found great comfort in the words of our friends, some long-time Jasperites and others new to this beautiful bubble, all of whom say the same thing: “Jasper will be waiting for you when you get back.â€
To them, it’s a foregone conclusion: Ian and I will be back and we’ll be back for good.
If I’m completely honest, right now I hope that’s true, because with just a few days between me and the open road, I can’t imagine a future where I don’t come back. That may change, but I’m grateful to know that Jasper will be here if we choose it—and that we have numerous couches and guest rooms to call home if, or when, we do.
So, thank you, Jasper. Thank you for giving us a home for the past four and a half years and for letting us know that wherever life takes us we can always come back.
And thank you to all of those Jasperites who shared with me over the years, entrusting me with your stories and your friendship. It’s all of you who make this town worth coming back to.
Of course, the mountains don’t hurt, either, but it is truly the people that make Jasper the wonderful community that it is and it’s all of you that I will miss the most.
See you on the flip side.
Nicole Veerma
[email protected]