The Wandering Widow-Day 2

I talk to my dead husband as I drive down the highway.


"Are you seeing these colors?" I ask. "Have we been on this highway before?"

"This is eagle country I think. Can you have an eagle fly by? "

"Did I miss the turn-off? "

" Does the car sound funny to you?" 

"Is that ice? Am I driving on ice?"

"Should I buy that necklace from that nice Navajo man?"

"Can you believe how beautiful it is here?

It was a four-hour drive and not once did he answer me, so I figured he couldn't hear me. Then, a magnificent, giant golden eagle, the glitter on his wings sparkling in the sun swooped in front of the car and I laughed.

He heard me.

 

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.