It looks so bright and cheery, doesn’t it?  My rig, I call it.  PinkMagic.  10433904_10154330525025441_6084715618478075880_n

Buying this car and, a few months later, this T@b trailer, was a major decision in the year after Handsome Husband died.  You know, the major decisions that you aren’t supposed to make in the year after a death.  Those decisions.

I was on my own for the first few months of travel in PinkMagic.  Now our daughter Rachael-Grace (Rae) is with me for the next 6 months as we continue this Odyssey of Love, fulfilling my husband’s final request of me, to scatter his cremains at his favorite places.

The life that I’m living now probably seems like a dream come true to so many people who only see the pink and our traveling life and who don’t know the story, or the depth of the story and see only the surface image.  Or who only want to see this external image.

This trailer is my home on the road.  I knew after Chuck’s death that emotionally I couldn’t handle traveling in the same fashion that he and I had but I did need a familiar place to lay my head at night.  He and I called ourselves Happily Homeless for our 4 years but after he died I only felt homeless.  Lost.  So I bought this trailer and painted it in the same pink as my car.  Even though I’d never towed and don’t care for camping.  Or driving much.   And still feel lost.  And I lie alone at night or walk around a campground and wonder how the fucking hell is this my life and how is it that he’s dead and gone from me?  This PinkMagic rig is part of the armor that strengthens me each day.  Handsome Husband told me to mourn for him in pink, not black.  I took his words seriously.  As you can tell. (and he so often complained that I never listened to him…)

You see hula-hoops.  Looks like so much fun, yes?  And it’s not that it isn’t fun.   But, yes, a deeper reason exists.  Rae makes and sells them on the road for income.  We use them for exercise at the end of a day of driving.  We use them to move the grief energy throughout our bodies.  Passersby see them and stop to join us.  They help us meet people.  Grief is isolating.  We’re always new to an area.  Same, same for PinkMagic.   We meet lots of people on and off the road.  Lots of hugs are given and received.

The FWG on the front of my T@b?  If you’ve read any of my previous blogs, you know what it means.  I make no apologies for anyone who takes offense at the imagined crudeness.  Fucking Warrior Goddess.  It gives me an image to live into every damn day that I have to wake up to another day without him.  It is my battle cry.  It says to me step into this and find strength.  See who you are who he knew you were and be that.  Take the love you shared and live fiercely.  Just fucking love and let it be stronger than the grief.

Anyone who would like to step into my shoes and live this life as you see it, be my guest.  Please.  You be the one to drive with your husband’s cremains on the seat next to you, with the folded flag presented to you at his memorial service next to that.  You enfold his ID tags in your fingers.  You breathe in the scent of your husband’s uniform jacket  that hangs on the back of the passenger seat where you used to sit while he drove because he was a rotten passenger, even though his scent is long gone but you do it because it’s what is left of him.  You wear his shirt at night-time so that you can pretend his arms are wrapped around you.  You put your hand out to touch the urn next to your bed and feel your heart shred yet again because he’s gone. Forever fucking gone.

And then you get up and drive the roads you traveled with a man you loved more than life itself, with the memory of his hand on your knee and wish to fucking god that he was here with you now and wonder how the fuck you’re going to live the entirety of the rest of your life without him.  You force yourself to return to those places he asked you to and stand with the pain and scatter his cremains and utter a prayer of thanksgiving that you had a life of love with someone who died way too fucking soon, who suffocated to death in front of you.  Breathe in that pain and agony because it’s there and you just have to bear with it until it eases and you hope to god it’s soon because you’ve never been in so much slicing, dicing, shredding, soul-destroying pain in your life.

And repeat.

And then tell me how much fun this is and how great it is to be on vacation. Collasssge


15 thoughts on “So….

  1. Unless someone has been there they have no idea at all . I knew my husband was dying and thought I was ready but when it happened I knew nothing could have prepar3ed me for that pain!

  2. Eight years have passed. Anywhere we had been together, I wanted to go. I was sure I would find him there. See, that man over there in that crowd, that man who rides his bike–that could be him and passing me by in that black Chevy Trailblazer, I glance over looking to see if he’s driving. Still. He is with me, in a different form. Embrace it all. Everything. There is no going around, over or under. You have to go through it. Shifting and growing as we go. Love and light to you. ❤

    • Sharon,
      I’m hoping, by being out here on the road, that I will find some connection with Chuck again. Its as if he was a figment of my imagination and there has been, is, no sense of him around or near me.

      And yes, there is only going through~
      Returning that love and light to you tenfold~

  3. “Fun”? What’s that, I forget. Or my favorite to be told “Cheer up, you have the world by the ass”. I guess that’s why it shit on me then? I think I might be moving into the “Anger stage”…
    BTW, I almost bought a hoop @ Kroger today, where would I start learning to hoop dance? I need to start shifting my energy soon, or the black hole inside me might swallow the earth.

    • Kate,
      Weird the words and phrases people use, isn’t it? If I do nothing else in these travels, I’ll change the language people use for grief.

      Most hoops that you buy at stores are more suited to kids-very lightweight. The ones my daughter and I use are heavier and larger in circumference, making it easier and also giving more of a workout. I’m determined to get better at this hoop dancing while on the road-Rae is an excellent instructor and I have no excuse. It really is a matter of moving energy around and I feel as you do-that the black hole is just waiting for my slide if I don’t stay proactive.

      If you would be interested, Rae makes hoops. You can drop her a note on our facebook page for information. And youtube is filled with instructional videos.

      Stay in touch-we’ll keep each other out of the pit~

  4. I am glad I picked up this blog to read because I too am widowed twice. It hit home with me how you said you never towed and did not care for driving much either. I had been thinking for awhile about a little trailer like yours someday. I feel I might be able to do that too! In time you will heal your heart, not time that heals it but you! Your story hits home with me and your love is strong as was mine. It has been 10 and 13 years for me and I am ok. I hope that you find that as well for yourself.

Talk to me~

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