So many aspects of that trip, however, were very difficult: eating alone, being a “fifth wheel” with another family in a tour group, enjoying beautiful sites with nobody to ooh and aah over them with, sitting on the balcony overlooking the ocean knowing the same shoreline (just a bit south) is where I married my sweetheart! It’s not how I planned to spend my beach getaway weekend this year (Joel and I usually go once a year together). And yet…I was still able to experience the beauty of the weekend within the sorrow.
Part of the beauty came from having some moments to simply be me. I wasn’t mommy, friend, family member, co-worker, or any other relationship figure that might define me. I was able to be as raw as I needed to be, weep when I needed to weep, and sleep the hours that best suited me. That was a much-needed gift.
Additionally, I was able to go somewhere I personally had never been. Joel had spent time in the Outer Banks (pre-me), but in my 45 years (most of those in the state of North Carolina), I had never visited this beautiful part of our state. Therefore, there were no memories attached to it. That, too, was a much-needed gift. In every other aspect of my life right now, I see Joel. All I have to do is look into the faces of our children, and I see him (not necessarily in the physical sense in the case of our youngest four or my bio daughter). I see the memories we created that made us a family.
Every time I drive to work or anywhere beyond 20 minutes west of my town, the hospital where Joel and I last spoke to each other, where he took his last breath, and where my life changed forever sits atop hill almost glaring at me as I drive by. The house I live in now…although Joel only got to spend a few months here, his clothes still hang in the closet, his toiletries are still in “his drawer” in the bathroom, and the boxes his boss brought from his locker at work are still sitting in the floor in my bedroom. I simply can’t address those areas right now.
My mind is full of memories I can’t escape. While I don’t want to escape them altogether, it would be nice at times. Just yesterday, driving home from work…I started crying out of nowhere…all because of something that popped into my mind about Joel. Needless to say, my Outer Banks trip allowed a bit of an escape from some of those things, as I was able to fill my senses with new sights, sounds, and smells.
And, while my trip was amazing, and I’m so grateful to my brother and sister-in-law for watching my children so that I could get away, I’m back to the daily “grind” of life and all the heartaches I had before my little trip. I don’t want to discount the trip (I’m ready for another), but I also want to be honest in saying this place in my grief journey is a tough one to be in. It’s the time when most of the initial support starts to dissipate. The people being around…the cards…the I’m thinking of you flowers…they stop, not entirely but enough to feel it. It’s completely normal. People have to get back to their own lives. It happened the first time I became a widow, so I knew to expect it this time. It’s still tough. My hard days are still hard. The shock of Joel no longer being here is still shocking. The single parent difficulties are still there. And, I still need time to grieve. Time (personal time) is what I simply don’t have right now.
That made my precious weekend away that much more special. It gave me time…something extremely rare but very needed these days. Although the sunrise was close, the gift of personal time was the most beautiful thing about my Outer Banks trip. Thank you Abba!