The touching reason this woman is travelling the world

Babette Urban shares her story with Take 5’s Mitchell Jordan:

My best friend Isabelle and I peered out of the plane window, glimpsing down at the island below.

“Looking at the shimmering blue water,” I gasped.

It was 2011 and we’d taken a flight from our homes on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast to Lady Elliot Island, the southernmost coral cay of the Great Barrier Reef.

But the trip had a serious side, too.

Six years earlier, Isabelle, 59, had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

“I’m going to beat this,” she vowed.

During the start of her treatment, we’d shaved our heads together in solidarity and, during one trip to hospital, a women’s charity had given us a fabric angel each.

“You’re my angel,” I told Isabelle.

“And so are you,” she said.

With her attitude, I was sure we’d be able to put the whole ordeal behind us soon enough and return to life as normal.

But as time passed, the cancer grew more aggressive and we eventually learned it was terminal.

Realising her health was deteriorating, Isabelle expressed her wish to get on a plane one last time, and knowing that overseas, or even interstate travel, wasn’t possible, we’d come here for a day trip.

And it was magical.

We had a sumptuous lunch and got to marvel at the reef before heading back home.

The two of us had first met at a French restaurant when I was 40.

Isabelle had moved here from the east of France, while my mum, Marcelle, was French and I’d grown up speaking the language as my mother tongue.

From the moment we bonded, our connection was instant: she was loud, friendly and lit up the room with her presence.

Of course, it helped that we could speak to one another in French!

But knowing my bestie was terminally ill was a lot to bear.

Just a few years earlier my father, Gerard, had passed away, aged 80, from a stroke.

Two years after, my mother had died.

Now, on top of Isabelle’s battle with cancer, I was also going through a divorce.

It felt like I could never catch a break from the never-ending bad news.

Not long after our trip, Isabelle entered palliative care and I went to visit every morning and evening.

One day, a doctor at the hospital rang her husband and me, urging us to hurry.

“Isabelle doesn’t have long left,” he said.

I was crushed.

Holding her hand, I thought back to our friendship that had spanned over two decades.

I couldn’t have asked for a better companion, though I didn’t want to see her in pain anymore, either.

“It’s ok,” I whispered. “You can let go.”

When she passed away at 59, I felt like part of me was gone, too.

Now divorced and without a best friend, I was completely adrift and didn’t feel like there was a way out of the mess.

I’m a waste of space on this earth, I thought.

For months I carried on in a daze, just going through the motions and completely numb.

Until, one day, I saw an ad for a trip to Antarctica, a destination I’d always been fascinated by.

Something stirred in me and, for the first time in a long time, I felt a ripple of excitement.

I’d never travelled alone before, though being on a cruise with 50 other passengers made the whole thing sound much safer.

So I contacted the cruise ship and later booked a flight from Queensland to Chile, where I’d board the boat.

It’s what Isabelle would want, I told myself, remembering her positive nature.

And when I packed my bags and boarded the plane in 2013, I took the angel with me.

Arriving in Antarctica was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

Surrounded by ice and sea, I marvelled at scenery so different from my home back in Queensland.

One day, as the ship stopped, a staff member announced: “Time for the polar plunge!”

Jumping into the ocean in Antarctica was a tradition on most cruises, and when I saw others lining up to make the leap, I knew I had to do it, too.

Changing into my cossies, I stepped out into the five-degree air and jumped off the stairs into the water below.

Cold was an understatement … it was freezing and left me breathless, but I didn’t regret my few seconds in the water for a second.

Later on the trip, I got to see penguins and humpback whales up close.

That month ignited something in me.

My mental health had improved enormously and, back home, all I could think of was travelling again.

Taking long-service leave from my job as an early childhood director, I embarked on a 14-month roadtrip around Australia and, nine years later, have been to 35 countries and six continents.

I’ve done everything from trekking Uganda and spotting gorillas to marvelling at the Northern Lights in Norway … and reading Take 5 in front of Egypt’s pyramids.

I take my angel everywhere, to remind me of Isabelle and know she’d be so proud of me for finding the courage to see the world while I can.

I’m also sharing my story to remind others who are grieving to hang on, even when things are tough.

You may not see it straight away, but there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

And I’ll always be grateful that travel brightened my world again.