The Wandering Widow-Day 9

Have you taken down your Christmas tree?

When I first walked into Ralph’s apartment on a December evening in 1976, I thought it was the quintessential bachelor pad with a floral couch that looked like it belonged to his grandmother—it had— and a few mismatched chairs. 

Not that I actually had ever been inside a bachelor pad. The back of a few vans and parent’s living rooms were my speed back then since I was only 17—almost 18—so I was impressed. 

There was a small Christmas tree on a table with colored lights and green and red balls hanging from it. I didn’t mention it because it wasn’t  much to look at, and I figured that he only put it up to get in the festive mood or maybe even his mother (or another girl) put it up.

By the time we were a real couple —in April—I was urging him to toss out the Goddamn tree.

“It’s a fire hazard,” I would say as the needles, brown and crisp, just waited for a stray spark from lighting a joint to set it ablaze.

“The tree has a spirit and I hate to kill it,” he answered with all sincerity. I hadn’t started rolling my eyes at this point in our relationship, but I could feel them starting to twitch.

In May, he finally took it to the dumpster, but only because he was moving.

He would have loved this place.

 

The Wandering Widow- Day 8

To Charger or not to Charger, that is the question:

What would Ralph do?

He loved football so much he carried a football in all of our vehicles at all times.

"Why is there a football in my car?" I asked him once.

"You never know when a football game might break out," he said.

 Me. "Huh."

Ralph and his family loved football and he was kind of a big deal in high school- THE John Madden, while visiting his high school, told the team they should all be more like RR- well rounded. (Meaning he was not just the captain of the team, but he was president of the chior. Don't be jealous.)

Although I still can't tell you what position he played. Running...something?

Can you guess I am not a big football fan?

I was once upon a time:

 I worked the concession stand at Charger camp in 1980 and we had season tickets for years. I loved the Chargers for a time, until that Freezer Bowl in 1981.

The damn game made me cry.

Before he died he confirmed that we were no longer Charger fans because of Spanos and family, but would he watch the playoff game or go out and body surf or ride his bike to the pier and back?

 

 Oh, DAMN, they won!

Well,I know one thing for sure: he would NEVER cheer for Tom Brady.

Chargers it is.
 

The Wandering Widow-Day 7

Today, a 6-foot-four straight male hipster from Kentucky colored and cut my hair in Colorado.

I spent a couple of hours sharing stories and laughing. I also learned some colorful swear words from the gal who owns the shop and who studied in London.

Later I had a drink at the bar with a recovering meth addict.

"So, what's your story," she asked me as she sat down. I smiled and told her.

 Her 44-year-old brother Joe just died of a sudden heart attack last month and they are burying him in the Confederate flag. (We're trailer park bikers," she explained to me. Which made sense.)

 She then listened to my opinions on that particular flag.

 And then we toasted Joe and Ralph.

“One of the great things about travel is that you find out how many good, kind people there are.”

-Edith Wharton-

 

The Wandering Widow-Day 6

I just realized that I am relaxed.

That doesn't happen very often, especially over the past four months, but there ya go.

I walked around this cute little town this afternoon, bought a big sexy suspense novel and set outside on the deck to read a few pages.

Then I went downstairs to my suite (it even has a suana-what can I say?) and read some more.


 
Four hours later I finished the book. I didn't know if I could ever do that again.


I am a crazy speed reader. It's a talent, but not something I could make money on like tap dancing or archery. 

Anyway, I haven't been able to finish a book in well, you know how long. 
Not the multiple grief books I've ordered, not the bios and not even my beloved New Yorker magazine.

But today I did. 

I'm sure for every two steps I take forward, I will fall one behind, but that's fine. I know the road I'm heading is going to be filled with bumps and wrong turns, but it's the little things that make me happy. 

And I desperately want to be happy again because for almost 40 years- bumps, wrong-turns and all- I was happy.

 

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 4

Yesterday, I found myself crying over a lost cooler.

It wasn't just any cooler, it was Ralph's vintage Oscar Cooler by Coleman, circa 1981. I left it in Moab in the hotel parking lot and someone took it. I know this because I called the front desk four hours after leaving, but it was apparently gone.

I remember trying to get all my crap in the car in the same way I had fit it all in like a puzzle when I left San Diego. I fancy myself a good packer, but that was Ralph's thing-organizing- he even made a living at it. I usually end up tossing everything in at the end and calling it a day if the car doors will close.

I even went out in the night air of 5 degrees and emptied my car out again, thinking maybe I misplaced it- as if it was a shoe or a hairbrush.

 The last time Ralph used the cooler was on his 70th birthday at his beach party in August. In October, a month after he died, I needed to use the cooler and I opened it up to find it full of beers. COLD BEERS!

 I knew that I could get rid of all our other coolers because this one would now be mine.

And straight out of the chute, I lost it.

 I could blame the medications I am on for severe bronchitis and altitude sickness, or widow brain, but in the end, it doesn't matter. I drove off and left it and someone took it.

I sat in the car and cried, and then I remembered it held a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream, an expensive bottle of Rombauer Chardonnay my friend gave me for Christmas and my freaking cough syrup- talk about insult to injury.

That just pissed me off.

 I woke up this morning and thought about the cooler and realized that it was just a thing. I've thrown plenty of his belongings away already and the cooler, while it was a sweet memory, won't bring him back, it will just keep beers cold for a month.

 I'm learning to let go of things on this trip and I guess that was the first thing to go.

 Meanwhile, I'm sure his spirit followed the cooler culprit and gave him a flat tire, or at the very least, turned my fancy wine to vinegar.



 

The Wandering Widow-Day 3

For me, 2018 was a very good, terrible horrible year.

Oh sure, some years are better than others, but this one was shitastic. 

Our daughter married a wonderful guy and we were able to spend quality time with our funny, beautiful granddaughter. 

We took a month-long road trip and spent time with our son in Vancouver, Canada, with family in Monterey and four days in our favorite city, San Francisco.

Life was good- until it wasn't.

My brother-in-law finally succumbed to a long illness and my father was diagnosed with the same brain disease that took John McCain. We lost another close family member in the fall unexpectedly and of course...

My healthy, happy husband died suddenly of a massive heart attack. 

He took a walk on the beach and came home and collapsed on the couch.

He was, handsome even in death.

Of course, this doesn't make it any better for me- losing my favorite person in the world, my best friend and lover.

I'm dealing with it- because what other choice do I have? Mentally I am strong as hell, but over the last month, my body has rebelled and I've been as sick as I have ever been- as much as I tried to deny it.

But again, you move forward.

I am on a month-long road trip to try and get my inspiration and my sanity back. So far, I've seen some lovely scenery and the inside of an ER in Moab, Utah.

My darling husband would want me to go forward and be brave and happy. I'm going to do my goddamn best because I still have my family and friends and hopefully, 2019 with be kinder to us.