Did you know that Oregon and New Jersey are the only states of our nation that do not require drivers to pump their own gas? As a Jersey Girl, it wasn’t until my husband passed that I actually had to fuel my own car. Recently I’ve recalled many journeys on which my late husband, Rich and I, voyaged up and down I-95 from New Jersey to Florida.

“Ya know, some day you’re going to have to learn to pump you own gas,” he’d warn while I half-listened, usually scrolling on my phone.

“Next time. Really. No worries,” I’d assure him. Basically I believed I’d never have to pump my own gas. I’d always managed to be with him, or a patient gas-pumping friend.

There were countless “Next Times” until there were no more. After Rich passed last October 28th, I dreaded looking at my car’s gas gauge as its tank was slowly depleted. I feared the moment when I’d have to…pump my own gas.

Then, when the tank finally registered nearly ‘Empty’, I drove myself to a small gas station that wasn’t very busy. Gliding up to the pump I recalled all of Rich’s tutorials. I got out of my car and proceeded to navigate the “complex” steps of filling one’s tank: Get out of car. Select pay Outside Credit. Insert Credit Card. Enter zip code. Grab pump. Choose Grade. Insert nozzle into car and squeeze.

Soooo difficult. Not really.

Just a few days ago I did something else I said I could never do. I drove myself from the Florida border to my home state of New Jersey…solo, except for my pup, Quint…a 14 hour road trip.

But I did it.

I did it because I wanted to bring the ashes of my deceased husband back to a place he loved the best, the New Jersey Shore.Today, September 29th, one day after the occasion of what would’ve been our 26th Wedding Anniversary, Rich’s spirit was unleashed on the waters upon which he’d found peace and joy in life; the Manasquan River on which we married on The River Belle, and the Metedeconk River and Barnegat Bay where he loved to sail, fish and crab.

In January of this year, Rich’s ashes were interred in a beautiful urn at the Jacksonville National Cemetery following a poignant Military Service.; he’d proudly served as a Navy Corpsman. In addition to that large urn, I’d had his remains separated in to several smaller urns. I figured someone with such a big presence and spirit couldn’t be contained in just one spot and there is no rush to determine where the rest will be released, or retained. He will guide me on that.

I had a lot of time thinking about all of this as I made my solo drive north on I-95. We’d made that journey together so many times during our years together including just one year earlier, anticipating all the fun we’d have at a family wedding and then seeing all of our friends and family in New Jersey. I’m grateful for that time when we saw so many people who’d shared their lives with us. Little did we know that it would be our last road trip. Rich would become ill on our return home, gone just weeks after celebrating our 25th Anniversary.

It has helped to have my little dog, Quint by my side during these trying times. He can’t pump gas, but as a dog-writer with a focus on the human-canine bond, the comfort he has provided since he came into my life last December is always appreciated.

I want to thank Soaring Spirits and the community of Widowed Village for allowing me to be your Saturday Blog Poster. I look forward to providing weekly content that is informative and meaningful and perhaps occasionally a little amusing. We all need something to smile about.

We never really know what we are capable of, but sometimes when we find ourselves on unfamiliar and “ruff” roads, we realize how strong we can be. I’m reminded of that each time my car’s gas tank gets a little low.

Have you made a solo Widowed Road Trip? If so, please share in Comments.