In Loving Memory: A Farewell in Zimbabwe

There is a specific kind of stillness that settles over you when you’re planning a trip to say goodbye to someone you love.

When my mother-in-law passed, she left us with a final request: she wanted her ashes spread among the ancient granite boulders of Matobo Hills in Zimbabwe. I knew immediately that this couldn’t be a sombre, grey procession. It had to be, in her own words, “a Grand Adventure”.

I’m the kind of person who usually holds the clipboard of my life with both hands. I plan the routes, I keep the receipts, and I manage the logistics. But as I sat down to map out a journey that would take my husband and our two sons to the African continent for the first time, I realised I was still too heavy with grief to carry the logistics alone.

I spoke to several agents, but it was my safari expert Justin who changed everything. He didn’t just see a booking; he saw an intention. When he titled our itinerary “In Loving Memory”, I felt a knot in my chest loosen.

A Rocky Start and a Smooth Landing

The adventure began before we even touched African soil, and in true Grand Adventure fashion, it started with a crisis. A delayed flight out of Detroit meant we were going to miss our international connection to Johannesburg. I was mid-air, firing off “Help!” emails to Justin.

By the time our wheels touched the tarmac in South Africa, the chaos had been quietly dismantled behind the scenes. Flights were reorganised, hotels were notified, and a new rhythm was set.

Our first sanctuary was the African Rock Hotel in Johannesburg. After the sterile air of international travel, the warmth of the staff – especially Laro – felt like a physical embrace. We were there for such a short period, but just long enough to catch our breath, eat a good meal, and sleep. But it set the tone. We were being looked after.

The Slow Pulse of Botswana

From the hum of Johannesburg, we flew to Botswana’s capital city of Gaborone. We had originally planned to dive into the world of The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency – a novel series set in Botswana that my mother-in-law adored – but the flight delays had unfortunately eaten into our time.

Initially, I was upset to miss the official tour, but Africa has a way of giving you what you need rather than what you planned. Our hotel guide took us on a tour, weaving us through the city’s quiet, sun-drenched streets.

I didn’t realise how much I just needed some space to walk around … it just felt like peace.

It was the perfect entry point for my sons. It wasn’t the high-octane Africa of the movies; it was a slow, welcoming place that allowed our bodies to finally regulate to the southern sun.

Christmas on the Chobe

If Gaborone was the intake of breath, Chobe Safari Lodge in northern Botswana was the exhale. We arrived just in time for Christmas.

To an American family used to winter snow, spending Christmas on a river felt like stepping into another dimension.

My husband and sons headed out for a morning safari while I took a moment of stillness. They came back changed. They were lucky enough to witness something they had never seen before, a kill, and it became one of those moments they will remember for the rest of their lives.

It wasn’t the act itself that mattered most, but the fact that it gave them a memory so rare and extraordinary. It was exactly the kind of pinch-me moment I wanted for them – a memory that would burn bright long after we returned home.

The Thunder and the Granite

The transition into Zimbabwe was seamless. I had spent weeks worrying about border posts and visas, but we were moved from vehicle to vehicle with water, snacks, and a level of care that felt like being passed between friends.

First, there was Victoria Falls. It’s hard to describe the scale of it. I’ve seen the Grand Canyon, and this felt like its watery twin – a thundering chasm that humbles you the moment you stand before it. It was a powerful introduction to the most significant leg of our journey: Bulawayo.

Amalinda Lodge in south-west Zimbabwe isn’t a hotel; it’s an experience. The rooms are built directly into the prehistoric granite domes of the Matobo Hills. To get to our room, we had to hike up boulders and through stone passageways. It felt like we were living inside the earth.

Spreading the Ashes

The day we went to spread my mother-in-law’s ashes, the air felt different. Our guide found a spot that wasn’t on any tourist map – a place of profound, ancient silence. He chose it carefully, ensuring it was a place we could easily find again, so that we would always have a way to come back and ‘see’ her.

We climbed to the top of a giant granite boulder. Below us, the Matobo Hills stretched out like a sea of frozen waves. My aunt and some local friends joined us, and there, under the vast Zimbabwe sky, we held our ceremony. It was exactly what we needed it to be.

In the States, the process of travelling with ashes had been clinical and difficult. But throughout Africa, every official and guide who saw the urn treated it with quiet reverence. Standing on that rock, looking out over a landscape that hasn’t changed in millennia, the Grand Adventure reached its peak.

It was beautiful and gave us comfort to leave her ashes in such a meaningful place.

Unexpected Magic

Amidst the emotional weight of the trip, there were flashes of pure, unexpected joy. I found myself face-to-face with a rhino – a proximity I never imagined I’d experience. It was a silent encounter that left me breathless.

And then there was my eldest son. While we were in Botswana, he somehow managed to find a group of locals his own age. Before we knew it, he was off partying in Botswana, experiencing the nightlife and the heartbeat of the city in an unexpected way.

Watching my sons engage with Africa on their own terms was especially meaningful. By the end of the trip, my eldest was already talking about returning, and my youngest will probably want to do the same.

The Return

We ended where we began at the African Rock Hotel in Johannesburg.

Returning to a familiar place allowed us to decompress. We spent our final day touring Johannesburg, reflecting on the miles we had covered and the emotional ground we had travelled. We were exhausted, yes, but it was a good kind of exhausted – the kind that comes from a life lived fully.

Looking back, my biggest fear was giving up control. As a lifelong planner, trusting a third party with something so deeply personal felt like a risk. But that trust was repaid in every hand-off, every meal, and every quiet moment of care that Justin and the local teams provided.

This Grand Adventure was so much more than a vacation – it honoured a life well-lived and opened the doors for the next generation to start their own journeys. We came seeking a place to say goodbye, and we found a place that we can’t wait to return to.

The granite hills of Bulawayo are still there, holding our memories, waiting for us to come back.

When you travel with Discover Africa, you aren’t just booking a trip; you’re placing your story in the hands of those who truly know the continent. By letting go of the logistics, Ursula, David, and their family were able to carry the emotional weight of their journey without the burden of the details. It allowed her family to be fully present for the quiet goodbyes, the thundering falls, and the sunrise over the granite hills.

Start planning your family’s next African chapter with us.