Our three-week road trip last month turned into two
weeks. We never made it to Glacier National Park. We traveled with differently
weighted packs of grief taking up more and more space in the car. I was eager
to see new vistas and explore the route together, like we had on a wonderful
cross-country trip the year before Noah’s decline began. My husband, tied to
home as steadying comfort, was anxious and glum being away. Little things
sparked panic; normal pleasures felt flat. “Do you want to turn around?” I asked,
but he said we should continue.
Then, in an unfamiliar town, the dog disappeared
into the woods at dusk and didn’t come to our calls. He finally turned up half
an hour later, but not before turning my poor husband ashen at the thought of
another loss. We managed to have a good hike the next day with friends—and the
dog firmly on leash--but I knew something was still wrong when my husband
refrained from climbing a higher peak from the overlook. The next day, he left
the farmer’s market after a few minutes without even tasting the local apricots.
This time, we decided to cut the trip short.
On the long drive home, my husband seemed relaxed
and relieved to be heading back to the familiar. I was glad for his sake but
worried whether we’d ever be able to enjoy traveling together again for more
than a few days. Once home, we reveled in the tomatoes and peaches that had
ripened in our absence. Then I caught a glimpse of our shrine to Noah and my
heart sank. Back to this again, I thought; still here, still dead. The
reminders of Noah that fill our home are what I need to leave behind for fresh
perspective--and what my husband needs to hold close for security and comfort.
I look forward to the newness of travel; my husband is wary of feeling “unmoored.” A support group facilitator tells me this kind of divergence is common
for survivor couples.
After stewing in some glumness of my own, I plunged
into a work project. I’m trying to see the shortened vacation as a blessing,
forcing me to journey inward with creative and spiritual pursuits. Maybe soon, I’ll
think about travel plans with friends or shorter trips with my husband. Slowly,
he and I are debriefing what happened and seeking other things to look forward
to together.
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