The End of One Journey Means the Beginning of Another

In the immediate aftermath of Andrew's death, I scoured the web looking for proof that I was not alone. Sure, many older people (70's +) deal with the shock of suddenly becoming a widow, but I was only 38. However, people get hit by cars every day, accidents happen, someone somewhere MUST be writing about this! I can't be the only young widow on the planet! It proved almost impossible to find someone, somewhere, anywhere, writing about their now single lives. Even when I was able to discover a blog, it was never very much. They all seemed to become abandoned.

Now I know why.

There comes a point when we all want to move on.

Sure, there in the beginning, death and the void of our spouse is all encompassing. I shared it with just about everyone. It was a massive scar that seemed  so obvious to me, and yet so invisible to the world. It is as if I belonged to a secret club and the only way to find other members, was to tell everyone and see who else admitted to being a widow as well. So, I walked through my new life telling people I was a widow. Just about everyone.

But that passed. Gradually. I became aware that I was moving on in my new life and that I was becoming less Mrs. John Doe, and more just plain old Ms. Heidi; mom to 4 and widow last. I was meeting new people- people who never had met Andrew. I was becoming autonomous. I began to keep my past where it belonged, in my past. If folk asked, I would tell them that I was a widow. It's what I still do today.

I now find myself at an odd crossroads. There is my past; behind me and in shadow, then there is my future; ahead of me and secretive. There are no curves I can see, just a slight uphill climb. Maybe there are curves on the other side, I can not tell. But I have only one direction to go- up.

So, I am saying goodbye to this blog. I am moving on. If anyone finds this little space and is new to being a widow, please feel free to contact me. I might can help, I definitely can lend an ear, and I can promise you:
It does it get better, it will get better. You aren't alone, but only you can heal through this. It's something that only you are feeling. We all lose the same person- but that person has a different relationship with every individual. So, take a deep breath, cry and cry and cry until you are empty. A week will pass, then a month, then a year. This will happen regardless of you wanting it to or not. You will move on. I promise.

Silence Broken and Confession #1

Wow. Months passing and my blog has been silent. (But, hey, blogs are kinda on the way out as we fall deeper into the pit that has become Social Media... but that's not my soap box today.) Today is a day for confessions.

I took some time to travel. I did.
My hat is off to all of the full time RV families. I have no idea how you do it. I couldn't. I tried. I did. But it was a dream of mine and not one for my kids and things fell through and life didn't work out. Then at one of my lower points, someone whose opinion means quite a bit to me, made fun of the entire adventure.  "That hunk of junk." it was called.  And just like a snap of a twig, my dream of travel was broken and thrown down. Say what you will, judge me or not. I really don't have it in me to care anymore. I'm not looking for a pity party or a pick me up. It is what it is.

So, there we were, all 5 of us, and where we landed has blown my little mind. The kids looked at me and used words like, "We want roots, Mom." and "We don't want to travel anymore." How much selfishness would I have had to muster at that point to go on? I'll never know. We stopped right then and right there.

Yes, it was at that time that I also landed in the ER fearing heart attack. Yes, I had to stop for at least a month while the Cardiologist and I took my body through a myriad of tests. And, yes, it was there that so many reached out to us in Godly love to embrace my little family. After running the roads and traveling and feeling rudderless, we have finally found a place to call Home. (note the proper use of the noun there.)

So. Confession #1. We are not a full-time RV family any longer. We never will be again. We are taking on the mammoth task of putting down roots.
(Not bad for a former Marine brat, huh?)


Fillmore will be going up for sale.

(this post is to assure the Mechanic in TN that we are doing fine.)

Just A Quick Thought....

So, I've managed to pack most of the kids' toys away into storage finally. All that's left now are the Legos (cos life isn't worth the living without a lego),

the Matchbox cars, and a small 18 gallon tub of various "must haves".

And here's what I've noticed:

My kids are more content! Less toys, less mess (relative term), and less stress ( except when we're talking bare feet meeting plastic corners in the middle of the night). My boys are learning to be content with less before we even hit the road.  

I would love to delve into this topic even deeper, but Buster (4) is crashing dishes and dropping eggs on the kitchen floor. Gotta go pretend to do that Mom thing..

Saturday we launch into our new Full Time RV Life!!!!

Nine Days Till Launch

I needed to give myself a new post, mainly because that last one was too depressing and kept starting me in the face every time I made a visit to my blog. (Which I do often cos I'm obsessed with watching my stats) Anyhoo.

Nine days to go and I'm still overwhelmed with the amount of unpacked crap belongings that we each have!

In all honesty, I wish I could tell you that these books are going into storage. But I'd be a liar. I have a slight addiction...
I'm a bibliophile.
I can't help myself. The printed page and the smell and the feel of the paper... it's all too much for me to pass by!  So these books are going with us.

....and these are all school supplies. We can't go without my school supplies. And school books!

So I have to spend a week sorting it all and finding the best home possible. This is one of the reasons that I plan on spending our first month close to home. It will be a time of fixing our new lives all together and fitting the unfitable in a space smaller than most folk's living rooms.

The boys are enjoying their new space together. 

It will all be dealt with. It will all get packed. It will all come together. Maybe not as quickly as some would like, but we are working on this whole new life together. We are defining it on our own new terms and making things fit is a part of it all.

Sometimes....

Sometimes, when I'm stressed,
 or lonely,
or alone,
... I miss the Him I thought he was.
 Sometimes,
when I'm afraid,
I call friends who cleaned up his mess to make sure that he's really dead.
Sometimes,
not very often,
only a few times actually,
 sometimes, I wish I could see him one more time.

I've opened boxes that I found buried deep in a closet this weekend. Inside were pictures and his hand writing and his clothes  and his glasses and more photos and memories boxed and hidden for over a year.........

Memories of mine that never really existed  in his heart. Memories of a life together that was a lie.  Why can't people ever be what you hope them to be?

Sometimes, I look at the life I'm living now and wonder why he couldn't ever let us live as we do now?

Sometimes I wonder why I have to be so alone in the world.

Why could I never make him happy?

Sometimes, when I'm feeling overwhelmed with the world at all of it's decisions and directions and paths, I wish he had been the man I wanted him to be.

Motorhome Envy And Other Confessions

Tethering. Boosting with a system. Boondocking.  Nationwide hotspot coverage. Composting toilets. Black water. Dumping stations. No closet space. No freezer. No ice cream. Full hook up. Workamping. Seasonal site hosting.

What have I gotten myself into?

Can we do this? Indeed, I know that we can! However...

I really am quite frightened about all of this new change in our lives.  How can I teach them to have a strong relationship with God all by myself? How can we fit mission work into our travels? Am I dragging my kids (albeit they are wiling and adventurous) into some new form of torture that will result in years of adult psychiatric visits? What if my motorhome isn't up to snuff? How can I fit all of out "must have" books into the RV? What kind of long term damage will all this travel have on the shape of my butt? Seriously- will this be more difficult for them than I wish it to be?

As I stand on the threshold of something so new and scary, I hesitate.

I hesitate out of fear. Fear of the unknown and more fear of public opinion.

The question "What if I fail?" continues to speak itself in my mind. Indeed, what if I   do  fail? What does my- our- failure even looks like? How am I supposed to know when I've arrived at Failure?

There continues to be a list of bills and sundries that won't go away. I continue to make cancelation calls and sign similar forms.  We box up things for storage and the Salvation Army (side note: look at the amount of $$ Good Will pays it's top execs ya'll) and we have a growing pile of Give To Friends. (..and yes, Mr. & Mrs. Crankie, you're welcome for the 10 thousand house plants and your cleaner air) In order to make the transition into a small space easier, the boys are now camping out on my bedroom floor each night.

I think, I thought, at the beginning of this idea, that we would be free from so many of life's pressures. I was wrong. The bills are still there, they've just shifted.  Gone is the $160/mo electric bill, hello to the bill for nomadic internet. The responsibility to teach my kids has only increased as we are now becoming more reliable on one another for fellowship.

So, at this point, the only picture I can draw of my failure in all of this crazy new life would look like this:

...and quitting would only teach my kids to do the same.

..and that's just not something that I can do.

When It Gets A Bit Too Hot:

Sometimes, we each need a break.

Today was one of those days. We packed all of the big furniture out of the house, got some boxing done (in the 97 degree heat) and then went a little crazy with the photo shooting.

For your amusement, I submit the following:

.... a fun way to spend a few minutes with the Professor.