We made it across the state line into Iowa on DAY ONE of travel home. I was so eager to leave Colorado (“and I’m never coming back”!) that I forgot the obvious: every mile traveled puts a mile between us and where Danny last lived, another mile between us and where we last spent time with him.
Like a child I announced my goodbyes out loud: “Goodbye Pearl Street! Goodbye Walnut! Goodbye Brasserie Ten Ten! Goodbye Flatirons!”
Tomorrow is March 28 and we will be driving not attending a No Kings March, so I made some paper plate protest signs. During an “air change” they got blown off the back ledge and I left them buried in with our other stuff. My older son had just texted that maybe rural Colorado and Nebraska weren’t the safest places to be riding around with obvious anti-Trump sentiments. Yeah maybe. I’ll position them again south of Chicago.
On top of everything, Finn had intractable diarrhea for four days. His chosen poop spot in the middle of the night or while we were out? On top of “Danny’s bed.” We washed those bedspreads twice. Sheets and pillow cases one time too. The stench was unbelievable.
Honestly, I might have liked to destroy that bed as well. Did Danny plot his death day there? He must have. Did he write his goodbye note to us there? Maybe, maybe not. But either way, a blazing conflagration might have been a suitable end for that bed.
One emergency vet visit and few anti-diarrheal tabs later and Finn is fine, by the way. Plus he loves to take trips. Plus he loves that it is just us three again.
Quick note on modern day aggravation: I loathe algorithms! I’ve screen-captured a few poems lately and now virtually my entire instagram feed is text. What?
But this is a good one, don’t you think?
Already, we’ve been directed to a wonderful online community for surviving grief. It looks pretty amazing.
I’ll end with the obvious: there is A LOT of EMPTY SPACE out here. And by “empty space” I mean miles and miles without evidence of human occupation.
💙💙💙🥺
I love that last image of open space, with no human occupation. That is where the spirits live, of that land, and now yours. That sky can hold alot.
Good and safe travels Dee. I didn’t realize you went to get Finn, its good he is with you, even with the poops. xox Ginny
Yeah Ken flew back for Finn and the car because we thought we’d be in Boulder at least until the end of April. Nice to think of sky as a place where spirits dwell. Thanks for that.
I was always amazed by all the empty space driving to and from Maine/Florida.
It’s a big country. On that route, the surprise is Georgia. It’s large.
I was shocked at how big Georgia is. So much ugly nothingness. I’m seven hours from the sea in two directions. Makes me cranky to think about it.
I thought about it a lot writing my book because any enslaved person who set their sights on St Augustine, Florida, had to get all the way across Georgia.
Empty space, wide open space, heart felt space.Space opens, when it is needed, to fill, with our own circumstances. I have always held to the belief that spirit can fill the space but it also opens for sorrow, for love, for memory, for questions, for seeking, for answers that may take a long time to come and may never come. It is often such a cliche to say that space also fills with memories but in my experience, those movie reel images of life, are framed by love, by family, by togetherness, by caring and by community, for grief and loss are universal. In time, the expansion of space, contracts a little and we simply go on, as best we can.
Cary is wise to suggest monitoring when you place your protest paper plates. Having lived in the South, Texas, TN, it is wise to be careful. Even in my blue state of New Mexico, there are pockets of red and my city is one of them. Due to the situation with my husband,and my position as his sole care-giver, as much as I long to once again take it to the streets, I am sitting this one out,but will be holding thoughts of solidarity with all who stand for Democracy.
Thanks for your wise words Marti. Can I quote you in my next post?
Yes. By the way, I looked at your link for support and it looks like it will be a very good resource.
I agree and he makes it easy and accessible. I appreciate that, especially after how hard it was to try and line up services for Danny.
(((Dee))) I’ve always felt those wide open spaces really hold me. May they hold you as you travel on. The grief community and what is written on the opening page, so good. I’m glad you found such a place.
I agree about the signs, you don’t need that kind of headache right now.
Drive safe and be well.
xo
I have never made this drive before.
Dee~ This drive, the places…this trip will probably remain attached to this grief filled time in your life. But, I do hope there’s room for noticing some of the beauty. Tell Danny about it, I think he would have loved it, yes?
xo
Not sure. But we just crossed the Mississippi and seeing this river was one of the goals of the southern trip we had planned for these days.
Couldn’t see much from the road to be honest.
finding it difficult to come up with the right words….have been working hard in our garden these past couple of weeks, with a lot of (muscle) help from our youngest son (we pay him as he is a self-employed artist/graphic designer) there was a lot of overdue maintenance, and I dreaded having to start in our garden. Just like that I have become a gardening fanatic almost overnight; the thing is I am enjoying our time spent together and the casual talk whilst working side by side and from time to time I find self thinking of you Dee, and your family, how fragile our families are……..and what I could do for you here, if anything. I’m planting & sowing loads, so there is that. Pulling weeds and uncovering countless woodlice, earwigs and millipedes, unearthing wriggly worms, it is fascinating and I forget about death and become absorbed by these tiny living critters. Sending you love and know you are in my heart and thoughts. Saskia
Thank you Saskia. Life is fragile. Families are fragile. It’s true. And the garden will grow this year and next and the one after that. I’m glad you’re getting to spend this time with one of your boys.
So many questions. Too few answers. Yes. Fragile. All of it.
We are gonna have to learn to live without answers.
So many of us traveling with you on your life-time journey.
You are seen, you are heard, your heart is held gently in many, many other hearts.
And it matters. More than I can say.