Widow's Voice

Inversions

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I felt safe with Chuck.  Emotionally.  Physically.  Every way.  I knew that if a situation arose, he could handle it.  I felt protected in a way I’d never felt in my first marriage.  My well-being was first and foremost in his mind.  His military training was in his blood and he’d run through “what if” situations with me so that I could plant responses in my head, but I always knew, if he was around, he’d ensure my safety.

He died and all sense of safety flew out the window.  I was out in southern California, no family or friends around, with our community all the way back on the East coast.  The only way to get there was to drive.  Mapping that out, routing it out, left me paralyzed with fear.  Thank all the stars in heaven, his sister road-tripped with me for a good part of the way and took over with those details.

I’ve continued to live on the road, towing my new home behind me.  I’m on my third cross-country trek since that mid-April day of 2013 when he died.  And I don’t understand the whys and wherefores, but I feel safe again.  I have no fear.

And I’ve thought about this.  How can I possibly feel as safe as I do, when I meet strangers daily, dozens of times a day, strangers who approach me constantly, when I’m in new places every few days, on new roads?  My world is filled with strangers more than well-known friends.  This feeling of security doesn’t necessarily make sense to me.  But then, nothing makes sense any longer and therein lies my answer.

I was so fearful after he died, so fearful of living life without him, not just physically but emotionally, that the fear inverted itself into no fear.  A bucket can hold only so much of anything, right?  Full-fledged fear became no fear.  I felt so unsafe when he died that it inverted to a complete feeling of safety. 

Maybe someone can explain this more fully.  Me, I don’t over-think it.  It is what it is.  I have situational awareness-he did a great job of teaching me that, but beyond that, I keep my heart open to people and Love and what the road brings me to.  I trust fully that I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing and I trust that I’ll be safe.

Somewhere in me is an acute awareness that Chuck set me on this Odyssey and that is why I trust my heart to guide me, to meet hundreds of strangers who are set in my way, to allow the Universe to open for me.  So much of it hurts like fucking hell, its exhausting in most ways, and grief is everywhere I turn.  I won’t lie to you about that. But I know there is something bigger than what I see, going on here. 

So, yes, I feel as safe as I did when he was at my side, and I have no fear, no matter what is thrown in my way.  Full cirle.  Somehow…somehow…he is guiding this, guiding me, into a new life, and I trust him now as I always have.

Driving on, driving into.  No worries.

About Alison Miller

My beloved husband Chuck died while we were full timing on the road. We’d rented a condo for our stay in southern CA, and I had to leave 3 weeks after his death. All I knew at that time was that I had to find a way to continue traveling on my own, because settling down without him made me break into a cold sweat. I knew that the only place I’d find any connection to Chuck again was out on the roads we’d been traveling for our last 4 years together. I knew nobody out on the road, I knew grief was a great isolator, and I knew I had to change the way I traveled without him, to make it more emotionally bearable for me. So I bought a new car, had a shade of pink customized for it, bought a tiny trailer and painted the trim in pink, learned how to tow and camp, and set out alone. My anxiety was through the roof, and all I knew to trust was the Love that Chuck left behind for me. I found Soaring Spirits early on, thank god, and the connections I made through SS helped ground me to some extent. I needed to know that other widow/ers were out there in my world, because I felt so disoriented and dislocated. Through Soaring Spirits, as the miles added up, my rig taking me north, south, east and west, I found community. I found sanity…or at least I learned that if I was bat shit crazy, I was in good company, and realizing that ultimately saved my sanity. PinkMagic, my rig, is covered with hundreds of names of loved ones sent to me by my widowed community, and I know it isn’t visible to the naked eye, but I’ll let you in on a secret…she actually illuminates Love as I drive down the many roads in our country, and I can see it through my side view mirror. Love does, indeed, live on~

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