Morris Murdock Escorted Tours

“One day, you’ll look back and realize it wasn’t the years that mattered most — it was the moments you claimed together.”

Three years ago this month, I lost my mom. Nearly thirty years before that, I lost my dad. In those years in between, my mom — a widow — found joy in traveling with friends while I stayed home, raising my family and tending to the endless to-do lists we all convince ourselves we have time for.

As my children grew and life began to open back up for me, I noticed my mother starting to slow down. The spark in her adventurous spirit was still there, but her body wasn’t always willing to follow. By the time we finally began to travel together, we were racing against time — though I didn’t fully realize it then.

This photo was from our last big trip to Europe. It was hard on both of us. I remember slowing our walks, skipping sights we had so carefully planned, and eventually finding her a wheelchair when the cobblestones and endless steps wore her down.

And then there’s this memory — at the Parthenon — where she got to ride a single-person construction elevator to the top because the stairs would’ve been impossible. The look of joy and pride on her face when she reached the top is a picture forever imprinted on my heart.

We made so many sweet, irreplaceable memories on that trip. Memories I get to carry with me now that she’s gone.

But I also carry a quiet regret. I never got her to Austria and Germany — the trip she’d dreamed of her whole life. It was always going to be “next year.”

How often do we let the noise of life drown out what’s truly important? The deadlines, the errands, the never-ending lists. Days turn into years, and suddenly the chances we thought would always be there have quietly slipped out of reach.

If there’s someone you’ve been meaning to travel with — a parent, a child, a dear friend — take my advice: don’t wait.

More Than a Trip — A Legacy of Memories.  When we travel with a parent, something remarkable happens. Away from routine, distractions, and the roles we often play in daily life, we meet each other as people. As storytellers. As fellow travelers. You hear the stories you’ve never heard before — about who they were before you arrived, about the places they’ve dreamed of seeing, and the roads they wish they’d travelled on.

Maybe consider a pilgrimage through Germany and Austria, tracing the origins of your family's faith, standing where music history was made, or walking in the footsteps of legends. Or maybe it’s a simple domestic trip to a place that means something to you both. It’s not the destination that matters most — it’s the uninterrupted hours, the shared discoveries, and the memories you create in the in-between.

The Gift That Can’t Be Replaced.  In the end, it won’t be the things you bought or the titles you earned that stay with you. It’ll be the early morning walks through misty streets, the inside jokes, the sunsets shared in silence, and the unexpected detours that made you laugh until you cried.

A one-on-one journey with a parent isn’t just a trip — it’s a chapter in your story that can never be rewritten. It’s a testament to choosing time over tasks, connection over convenience, and memories over moments missed.

Don’t Wait. Time Doesn’t Return. If you’re thinking about it — stop thinking. Start planning. Because every day you wait is a day you won’t get back. The truth is, life won’t pause for a better season, a quieter week, or the perfect travel deal.

The real gift isn’t the place you’ll visit. It’s the time you’ll share. The conversations you didn’t know you needed. The memories that will carry you long after the trip is over.

So pick the place. Make the call. Book the ticket. Because in the story of your life, these are the pages you’ll treasure most.