My late husband loved maps. Physical paper maps. Not GPS, not Google directions – those were not to be trusted. Only a hard copy, the bigger the better, would do. Multi page fold out Trip Tick from AAA size.
Getting from Point A to Point B with a map is just 2 simple steps :
- Choose a route
- , and go. Car, train, bus, plane, or hike. Just go.
If only life were that simple.
But it’s not.
Things happen. Plans are derailed, postponed, cancelled.
One day you’re cruising along, windows down, belting out tunes with the wind in your hair, not a care.
Next day you hit a roadblock, run out of gas, get a flat, and only static on your radio.
Unexpected traffic delays your arrival time. Roadside attractions grab your attention and distract you from your destination.
You get lost on the freeway, take a wrong exit. Your destination becomes unclear.
You wonder where you are, how to get back on track, where did you put that map ?
Pull over, get a grip.
There it is, fallen under the seat. Covered with muffin crumbs and coffee stains. The map. Now, where am I ? Turn it this way, turn it that way. Observe your surroundings. Look for signs. Ah, yes.
You are here.
This is a blog about grief, so let’s get to it.
You had a map. You had a plan.
You and your person were cruising along, not a care.
Then life threw you a curveball and you lost your way.
Your copilot – your person – has been ejected from his seat next to you.
You are on your own. It’s up to you to land this plane safely – to drive this car home – to get this train back on track.
It scares you. You can’t.
It challenges you. You can.
You are here.
A Widow's Walk 