I spent last weekend, starting on Thursday, at a rally for people who own [email protected] trailers, as I do.
My little rig has been my home on the road in the years since Chuck’s death.
It’s tiny in every way, but still has a surprising amount of room inside of it, for me and for storage.
I’m 5’1 and it gives me a little bit of clearance over my head.
I can take a few steps to each side.
It’s all the space I’m interested in having.
Large spaces, such as are to be found in an apartment or a house, overwhelm me since Chuck’s death.
In any case, the days that I spent at this rally allowed me to see the interior of lots of other rigs just like mine, and I loved it.
I met people who had come from around the country, and from the northern reaches of Canada, to gather amidst like minded people, sit around campfires and exchange stories from the road, and share our meals.
It was the first rally for me, in spite of the fact that I’ve been on the road for so long.
Everybody there was so welcoming to me. Many had heard about my Odyssey of Love, or seen pictures of my pink rig online.
At least 50 people added messages of Love to my rig, or wrote the names of their loved ones on it.
At the end of the weekend they presented me with a certificate of recognition that read for the best labor of Love.
That really touched my heart.
What I’m doing, out here on the road for so many years, matters.
I spent the last morning talking to a woman who had years of AA under her belt, as do I, and two women grieving their parents, and what an awesome experience it was for all of us.
One night I was walking back to my rig, PinkMagic, in the darkest desert night, with all the stars shining so brightly overhead.
I’ve ambled around campgrounds before, in all parts of this beautiful country, looking up at the same skies, and I’ve stopped many a time to just stare up at the stars, trying to find Chuck.
If he’s anywhere, maybe he’s up there, amidst the vastness of the Universe, right?
Sharp grief and pain would stab into me as I looked up and I’d wonder aloud….what the ever loving fuck happened to my life?
Me doing this….believe me…it’s an alien world to me. I’m not a camper in any sense of the word.
Yet here I am, with over 6 years on the road under my belt.
So, on this night, just a few nights ago, I paused on my way back to my tiny pink trailer and craned my neck straight up and gazed at the stars that I’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of times as my feet stood in whatever state they were standing, and for the first time ever, I just quietly whispered to myself and to my beloved husband…
Just look at me, D. Look at what I’ve created for myself. You’d be so fucking proud of me.
And I thank my brother and sister [email protected] for giving me that moment.
My heart still feels empty. I still ache for the man I loved, and love, more than my own life.
All of that, over and over.
But look at what I created for myself, D.