Spain and France: Leaving the Silence

It feels like the central current of my life has been severed. Where I used to have a buddy, a dinner companion, Ted Lasso partner, yogurt run assistant, Seahawks critic…I have, instead, this silence. It is both similar to what I expected and completely different.

I was able to envision the general feel of this incoming silence – but only now do I appreciate the depth and breadth of it. The life Ron and I shared was punctuated by chatter, by companionable quiet, word games, geography games, walking, and the immeasurable comfort of knowing we each had an ally in the world.

The impact of these losses breaks my heart day after day after day in this extremely quiet house.

I am a textbook student of grief. I do it all. I go to the gym for hours at a time. I have increased my legal volunteering. I reach out to friends for walks and visits. If there is a standard flow chart for grieving, I am dutifully transiting each step.

The rooms of our house are more comforting than I expected but the visions of Ron’s final months hover around…the hospital bed in our TV room, a shower chair, the pharmacy that took over the kitchen counter. All those pieces of a cancer life are gone…and yet they are not.

But one thing is clear. It is time for me to head out on my own and fulfill my promise to Ron that I keep living, carve out a future, journey on without him. And as I say that to you, I must also admit that I have thought about cancelling this trip hundreds of times. It is hard to leave the safety of our little home.

In the weeks after Ron died, I found a note to me, hidden away on his iPad. I don’t know how he knew I’d find it. It says that we have done amazing things together but I have many years left and to please enjoy my life. I picture him…barely moving around in his final weeks, but determinedly typing that note because he wanted to remind me to keep moving.

You know why I found it at all? My Birkenstock collection that you all make fun of.

REI sent their annual member credit and I had to log in to Ron’s REI account to redeem it so I could put it towards another pair of Birkenstock Boston clogs. Once I opened that iPad, I was shocked to see dozens and dozens of open tabs. It is clear that Ron had no idea how to close a tab.

And given that I have so much time on my hands, I closed tabs tabs tabs until the screen was just some icons – and there, floating amongst the icons, was the note, which I’ve printed out and will carry with me, talisman-style.

I am headed to Spain and France for 6 weeks. I have some time traveling alone and then will join a few tours: an art-focused tour of Spain, a fast-paced Rick Steves tour through Andalusia, and then a leisurely long-stay tour in Provence.

Here’s a map of my route:

I haven’t even left home and I had problems arise: two train cancellations due to a landslide and the discovery that I’ve booked myself into Malaga during Semana Santa, when the city is taken over by a few hundred thousand extra people, who come to watch 45 religious processions weave through the streets over the course of a week, blocking traffic and sidewalks 16 hours a day, merrily having a lot of liquor while they look on. My original foolish plan to was to arrive by bus from the airport – at a bus stop that is closed during Semana Santa – leaving me, instead, 1.4 kilometers away, so I could stroll to the hotel with my luggage, along with the other 400,000 visitors/revelers.

For those of you who feel I might be embellishing, above is Malaga during Semana Santa – my hotel is right on that street – and it’s paid in full and non-refundable, so my first solo Spanish travel activity is going to be trying wrestle my way into the hotel lobby while the crowds are observing Easter/drinking a lot of beer.

This is my longest trip yet, pieced together with Ron’s approval, except he felt 3 weeks was fine and we compromised by ignoring his advice. But I hope this might be exactly what I need – a chance to get away from here…where I’ve been mostly housebound since November…and to remind myself of what Ron and I loved most – our travels.

So onward to Spain – my first solo trip of a life I promise to enjoy, Ron.