Widow's Voice

The Double Life of a Widow~

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I’m not qualifiably bipolar, but I swear I feel like I’m two people living distinctly different lives.

If left on my own, supposing I had the money to do so, I’d park my rig, PinkMagic, on a beach somewhere, far away from everyone, and have as little interaction with the world as possible.

I’d read lots of books. I’d write. Think about Chuck. Make some phone calls on the daily to family and friends. Remember my life with Chuck. Listen to the waves. Watch the waves. Marvel at the stars shining brightly overhead each night. Think about Chuck. Miss him. Walk along the beach. Stare across the ocean towards an unseen horizon.

I’ve become more and more solitary internally, since Chuck’s death. Covid has only exacerbated it.

That’s my internal self.

On the outside I’m working with my Loveumentary team, editing what we filmed pre-covid, strategizing release dates and marketing and showing. In October I’ll launch my first online bereavement support group. I’ve got a podcast up and going. I’ve shifted my mindset from I need to find a sticks and bricks to settle down in because I don’t feel it’s safe to be out on the road right now, or for the foreseeable future to I need to figure out how I can get back out on the road safely and as soon as I can.

I’m doing all kinds of shit.

It takes a frickin’ amount of energy.

Life is just that way, right? Add widowhood into it and covid and civil unrest, yadda, yadda, yadda, and ugh…my soul is ready to find that beach and disappear.

Both of these parts of me are genuine and real. They’re not necessarily at war with each other either, because I long ago realized that this is just what life without Chuck looks like.

I don’t know if it will ever feel different to me.

I mean, Chuck will always be dead, right?

On the other hand, I’m a Gemini so both of these selves inhabit my one body in a fairly comfortable manner.

In a world that hasn’t been ok since Chuck’s death, I’m sort of kind of strangely ok within that world.

My past and my present.

Chuck, and the Love he left behind for me, is my inspiration.

So is my rig, PinkMagic. She epitomizes all that I stand for in this life without him.

She’s carried me thousands of miles and will carry me many more.

She’s my chariot.

And Love is my drive~

 

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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