My new year begins each April 21.
That’s the date of Chuck’s death.
It’s the only new year that carries any meaning for me.
What do I care about January 1?
April 21 is the day my life incinerated and I was eviscerated.
So it stands to reason, at least in my mind, that this is the day where I look back, and, insofar as I’m able, look ahead.
I knew, to the depths of my heart and soul, and into my bones, that this April 21, just recently passed, is the year where all the energy of my Odyssey of Love, would expand and grow, and it’s already happening.
Since I began my Odyssey of Love, just weeks after Chuck’s death, I’ve been laying the foundation for…something.
I didn’t know what, and I still don’t know where this is all taking me.
I just know that it’s taking me somewhere big.
Where big is, I don’t know, and I’m not concerned about where it is.
All I’ve known, since Chuck died, is that it is my responsibility to suit up and show up and let the day unfold. The outcome isn’t up to me.
And I’ve done that. Whether I felt like it or not.
I had to make meaning out of this fucking devastation, or go nuts.
And I realized, very early on, that there ain’t nobody going to do this for me.
I could have gone to ground. Isolated myself. God, that would have been so easy to do. It’s what my instincts told me to do.
But how could I make meaning out of any of this if I disappeared?
How could I maybe somehow connect to Chuck again, if I disappeared?
So I painted my car and trailer pink and donned my pink clothes and set out to connect with people. Share my story. Listen to theirs. Write about our Love story. Write about my fears and doubts. Write what it’s like to navigate widowhood while towing a trailer around the country, navigating new roads and pushing beyond my comfort zones.
I made myself vulnerable, in spite of the grief and pain.
It wasn’t easily done. It isn’t easily done. I’m just doing it anyways.
And where has it brought me?
It has brought me to a place where, this coming fall, I’m meeting a woman who is a photographer/videographer, in Arizona, who, along with her partner, is teaming up with me to film a documentary about my Odyssey of Love.
Yep. We will create a spectacular documentary about all of this that I’ve been doing for the last 6 years. Holy shit, right? I met the exactly right person recently who has the skill, the vision, the magic, to help me translate my story into an epic documentary that I’ll take on the road with me.
I’ve been wanting to do this for…well, forever.
And it’s going to happen.
And it will be fucking epic and you’re going to want to see it.
My rig, PinkMagic, covered with the names of loved ones from around the world, will have a starring role, of course.
I plan on hosting a premiere showing of it and inviting the world.
This is the first time I’ve been excited about anything since Chuck died.
I’m holy shit excited about this.
The energy around my Odyssey of Love has shifted and is palpable.
It’s time, you know?
Time for all of what I’ve been creating from the depths of my shattered heart to get out into the world in a bigger way.
It’s my way of reaching my hand back, and out, to anyone else trying to figure out the “now what?” of widowhood.
Maybe someone will see it and think well, she did it. So I can do something too.
In the name of Love. THE most powerful force in the Universe.
Here I am, Chuck. And look what I’m doing with what you left behind for me.
I’m making meaning out of the godawful missingness of you.
I’m making what we had count for something.
And I’m doing it all…including breathing…in the name of LOVE~