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.

 

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.