Clad in a pink kurta salwar and adorned with red bangles, 72-year-old American Loretta stood as a vision of beauty, yet her heart ached with unbearable pain. Atop Sarangkot Hill, her eyes shimmered with sorrow, her face a canvas of despair. The weight of her emotions swirled like storm clouds—heavy and untamed.
Years ago, she had climbed these same steps, her hand clasped tightly in her husband Phil’s. Together, they captured moments in photographs—the golden glow of sunrise, the tranquil blue sky, the whimsical shapes of mist, the verdant hills, and the sweet symphony of birdsong. Those scenes remained unchanged. But her companion was gone—his tender touch, the hand that had vowed to hold hers through life. Now, those pictures were mere echoes of the past, the sunrise’s brilliance dimmed by the shadows in her soul, her footsteps faltering without his strength beside her.
Phil, a 76-year-old American who called Nepal his second home, loved this land with a passion that burned bright. It was that love that carried Loretta here, clutching his ashes, to honor him. Phil, once a Delta Airlines employee, had first set foot in Nepal in 2007. A friend’s tales of its natural splendor, shared during a trip to Thailand, had drawn him in. A lover of nature, Phil roamed Nepal’s corners, weaving himself into its landscapes, its way of life, its culture. Yet it was Pokhara that stole his heart most fiercely.
Pokhara’s breathtaking vistas, its rich culture, and the gentle kindness of its people wrapped Phil in an embrace he couldn’t resist. He returned year after year, finding peace by Phewa Lake’s shores, comfort in the city’s quiet grace. After retiring, he poured his days into Nepal, making it his sanctuary.
Then, in 2019, while living in Nepal, illness struck—a pinched nerve that refused to relent. Staying at the Raniban Arcade hotel near Lakeside Gaurighat, Phil was cared for with tenderness by hotel operator and friend Hari Bhujel. But the pain persisted, unyielding.
A month later, Loretta rushed to Nepal, whisking him back to their homeland for treatment. Yet fate dealt a crueler blow—before one wound could mend, a brain tumor was discovered. Six months ago, Phil slipped away during treatment, his thoughts still drifting to Nepal even as he faded. For the peace of his restless soul, Loretta returned, his ashes cradled in her hands.
With Hari Bhujel, Phil’s Pokhara friend Binay Paudel, and her companion Sherry by her side, Loretta ascended Sarangkot Hill. She brushed her fingers across Phil’s photograph, laid a bouquet of flowers before it, and stared into his smiling face as tears spilled over. In a silence thick with unspoken grief, she released his ashes, letting them drift over the hill, blending his essence with Nepal’s earth—his final resting place.
Phil had pleaded with her, time and again, to bring his ashes here, his love for Nepal a flame that never dimmed. “Phil was a simple, joyful soul who reveled in Nepal’s nature and culture,” Hari Bhujel said, his voice trembling with the weight of memory. “We shared so much—Nepali meals cooked in our home, the colors of Holi splashing around us, quiet visits to temples. The moments with Phil are countless, etched deep in my heart.” By fulfilling his last wish, Loretta had woven their bond with Nepal even tighter, Bhujel whispered, his words a fragile thread of gratitude.
Phil adored Nepal’s warmth, its people, its pulse of life. He would sit in Pokhara’s hidden corners, sipping local raksi (Nepali liquor), savoring its sharp taste with a grin. “He loved Nepal so fiercely,” Bhujel recalled. “He spent nearly three months here each year—two alone, wandering, and one with Loretta, their hands entwined.”
Loretta, too, worked at Delta Airlines, carving out a month each year to join Phil in Pokhara, their love a quiet dance against the backdrop of mountains and lakes. Now, her pilgrimages persist, keeping Phil’s spirit alive in the places he cherished. “His love for Nepal, her devotion—it has made this moment ache with meaning,” Binay Paudel murmured, tears brimming. “Phil’s soul lingers in these hills, these rivers, in the hearts of Nepalis forever.”
Their love had sparked at Delta Airlines, a flame that grew into marriage—steady and true. Even as life waned, every second with Phil glowed in Loretta’s memory, radiant with love. Yet, as she traced those days, a soft regret slipped from her lips. “I never wanted children,” she confessed, her voice breaking under the weight of solitude. “Now, I feel this emptiness creeping in. Phil’s gone, but every heartbeat we shared, every inch of this soil he tread—they’re as precious to me as breath. He’s not here in body, but his soul? It’s woven into Nepal, forever. In Pokhara, he’ll never fade.”
The wind carried her words, soft and mournful, as Sarangkot stood witness to her grief and her gift—Phil’s ashes now one with the land he adored. Loretta’s tears fell, not just for loss, but for the beauty of a promise kept—a love unbroken, even by death.
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Jamuna Barsha Sharma / RSS
View More PostsThis news is sourced from Rastriya Samachar Samiti (RSS), Nepal’s National News Agency.
