Day 13: Someplace I'd like to move, or visit

When my husband, Kenny, was in the last months of his short life, things were pretty awful.

Strike that, it wasn’t awful. It was Hell. 

I had a lot of coping mechanisms. I watched fluffy TV (namely Hart of Dixie) every night before bed, I read every Elin Hildebrand novel about Nantucket that I could get my hands on, and I daydreamed endlessly about sandy beaches and palm trees.

Not just any sandy beaches and palm trees. The ones with miles of pipeline waves that surfers dream their whole lives of riding. Yep…Hawaii. I know, when it comes to imagination, it comes off as a bit generic. I mean, why not Bora Bora? Tahiti? Why not some incredibly exotic, foreign island with a name I can’t pronounce?

Truthfully, those places are synonymous with honeymoons and romance, clearly not on my mind that minute. While Hawaii used to be the premier destination for the newly married, these days it seems to be a lot of families and adventure seekers. Not to mention, one of the fluffy things I watched (often) then was Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Seemed like a good place to go for the heartbroken…beautiful scenery, yummy drinks, and miles of sandy shoreline for me to anonymously sit, with the pages of a good book flipping between my fingers, and zen out. Maybe take a surfing lesson, or learn how to Hula, or simply just “be.”

I told myself that once life was settled, I was going. Once Nate was a little older, once life seemed a little easier…

Funny the things we think when we’re desperate.  

It’s been two years. I haven’t gone yet. 

Not for lack of opportunity. I could have asked the grandparents to keep the kids a week at any point these past two years, and jetted off. 

But I didn’t.


I’ve been wondering that myself lately.  I think it’s because, even after all this time, if I take that trip, that big solo adventure, it’d be another notch in the “widow” belt. Maybe the last one; that one thing left that I promised myself when he was still alive. I’ve also never traveled without him (aside from when I went away with my parents, which I did through my childhood and last summer). He was my one and only travel partner. . Every “thing” I’ve done relating to his passing (canceling credit cards, turning off his phone, having his car picked up from the dealer…), took the strength of ten men for me to do. They felt like I was betraying him. After the many firsts I’ve had no choice but to experience, doing something like see a piece of the world that he won’t, well it sure fit the bill of betrayal in my heart. Until now…

This summer, I am taking my first trip without Kenny (or my kids! woohoo!). I’m going to a coach summit with one of my best friends. It’s not Hawaii, the French countryside, Rome, or Prague…but it’s a start. Here’s hoping its a great start to a future of seeing the world.