Here we go again

Spending this past winter in North Carolina was important to me. A friend recently asked, what was your goal during that time? Good question. What I knew for sure was that I needed to get back to the community that Tim and I had been a part of for 15 years. It was an important next step in the grieving process for me. I had left it just 6 weeks after his death to dive into grief in Colorado. I wanted to see what it felt like to be back.

I also needed the proximity of my closest friends. Not for them to comfort me (though they did), but in some ways, I felt like it was time for me to comfort them. For them to see me and where I was on my journey. And for all of us to have a chance to talk about Tim. Not only the years of memories, but also those of his death. I knew they were grieving. I wanted to be near them again to support their process just in case they needed it.

Another meaningful element for this time was to be in our community on the anniversary of Tim’s death. It just felt like the right place to be.

These months were fulfilling, and if I need to measure it, I did accomplish my goal. The pandemic and stay at home orders certainly changed things. It’s not how I would have wanted to spend those last few months in North Carolina, but it brought its own gifts. And it was another reminder of lessons I was already deep into. Change. Acceptance. Gratitude. Being present.

Staying true to following my own guide, I knew that after this first anniversary passed, it would be time to make the move back to Denver. The needle on my compass was spinning a lot less.

More packing. The rest of my life in boxes. Every remaining thing in North Carolina must go to Colorado if I am going to give this a shot.

But even while making those last few social distancing rounds to my dearest friends (rule-breaking hugs included), I reminded them that this too could be temporary. I am personally in a state where I don’t know what permanent is. Because there are only a few things that feel permanent to me right now – death being the great reminder of this. Physically leaving places and people is something that I’ve practiced a lot, but I don’t think I’m an expert. Maybe tolerance is built. Maybe confidence increases. And for sure I’ve learned there is always another bend in the road ahead, one that can even lead you back to where you came from. There were no goodbyes. Only “c-ya-laters.”

And so here we go again. Another road trip to Colorado. Our third. The first one was physically with Tim. The last two were Hank and me, with Tim in spirit. Well, in truth, Tim’s ashes were with us as well. This journey was less emotional than the summer before. I was goal driven. I spent 5 days with my Mom, Sister, Bro-in-law, Niece, Nephew and Grand-baby Nephew. It was a wonderful stop along the way.  The final two days of the road trip, I was just ready to arrive, knowing more of what to expect this time. There was a familiar place waiting, and a few friends eager to welcome me.     

Don’t get me wrong. There were moments of discomfort. I had a feeling of being suspended. I had officially left a place where I had spent 16 years with Tim. I then spent five days near my hometown where I had lived the first 18 years of my life. And ultimately, I was driving toward something exciting, and challenging, but a place I did not choose for me. However, I felt so much support. Some of it clearly stated in word or in deed from friends.  And so much from unseen forces. People and energy carrying us even though I didn’t always know specifically who or what. More on that later…

We arrived energized. I went right into nesting mode. Loving what was right in front of me. Being present and not worrying about permanent. And needless to say, Hank had no problem finding all the right places to be himself.