The Wandering Widow- Day 5

Tonight I laughed and cried with two women who are dealing with their own grief and it felt so good.

I am spending the next few weeks near Breckenridge, Colorado with an old friend of ours - who was also Ralph's very first girlfriend.

Sharon lost her husband in October. She also lost her friend Ralph.

 Our other friend Deb who lives in Loveland, Colorado, drove up to spend a few days with us. She lost her older sister in October and also lost her friend Ralph.

We sat in the kitchen laughing and crying while sharing stories. I cooked carnitas and the wine flowed. (I only had a few glasses, kids, since I am still recovering from the croup.) 

We all bonded over a loss and looking over the past four months, I am noticing that many of my friendships have changed as I travel on this grief journey. 

 Not everyone understands that I may never be the same friend I was before the loss. It has changed me and some people will roll with those changes and others will not.

Tonight though, I was with women who understand and didn't judge. (They drank more wine than me- I guess I still judge.) 

 
 When the fog lifts I will always remember the friends (and family) that were there for me, the friends that were not there for me and the friends that continue to walk this journey with me.

 I hope to count you among the latter.

The Wandering Widow- Day 1

Teddy Rosevelt told me to leave San Diego.

 Well, not really, but his story of losing his wife and mother only hours apart inspired me to travel. Burdened by grief, Teddy abandoned politics, left his infant daughter Alice with his sister Bamie, and, at the end of 1884, struck out for the Dakota territories, where he lived as a rancher and worked as a sheriff for two years. 

I am, however, not going to be a rancher or a sheriff, although I still think I could pull off the sheriff costume. 




I am going to travel and blog for the next 30 days to try and get my head back into writing mode so I can write for a living again.

Writing is difficult. Writing after your husband dies suddenly is almost impossible.

But it's what I do and it's what I will continue to do.

Today I am writing from a hotel in St. George, Utah, a town that used to give me the creeps, but I now enjoy. Things change.

I am off to Moab in a few hours to hike and see the sandstone arches for the first time and possibly get snowed in.

My darling husband loved a good adventure, but he always made sure we had a bag with wine, chocolate, matches and a blanket in the car in case we were snowed in. I have my whole life in the car, including the wine and chocolate, so I'm good to go. 

See, I just wrote a blog post. Teddy knew what he was doing and so do I.


 

Driving the Grief Highway

I don't have my motorhome anymore nor do I have my husband, but I took a road trip anyway.

I drove up the California coast, stopped at a winery that we loved and stayed the night down by the ocean near Hearst Castle at a cozy inn.

 It made me happy. I put on his favorite songs and continued my drive the next morning, up and over winding highway 1 through Big Sur. It made me happy.

 I arrived in Monterey to stay with family. It made me happy.

Day three the grief wave hit and the darkness arrived. It made me sad. This is my life now.