I did it.
I went on the last vacation my husband would ever plan for us.
About 2 years ago, in June of 2020, when we all thought the Pandemic surely would only last a few more weeks, my husband booked a vacation for us. Originally, it was scheduled for May of 2021. However, the pandemic would force us to bump our departure by an entire year to May of 2022.
My husband kept the plans pretty private. I had vetoed some things early on, I’m not into frivolous spending, but that was the extent of my input. We were both so excited just to spend a week together.
Fast forward to his passing… you don’t realize the laundry list of logistical issues that arise after a loved one passes away. It’s a lot. One of the many things on a lengthy “to-do” list was this vacation that he so meticulously planned for us. Initially, I wanted to simply cancel everything. I’m so glad I did not.
When I finally reached out to the cruise line, that’s when I found out all the time he spent planning a magical week for us, and I just couldn’t cancel that. I did cancel the very romantic gestures he planned, the couples massages, a private dinner on the ship, the champagne in the room, etc. But I kept his overall plans. The hotel on the beach the night before, the packages he added that ensured we could enjoy whatever we wanted, as much as we wanted… and, ultimately, I’m grateful for everything.
My husband’s final vacation was beautifully and thoughtfully planned. Just like everything he ever did for me.
There were moments, lots of them, when I could have easily thrown myself quite the pity party. But except for 1 night… when the sobs couldn’t be contained and I went off by myself for a really good ugly cry… I withheld the pity party antics. I, instead, was so grateful. Just utterly grateful for the man I got to spend 7 magical years of my life with. Albeit, I waisted 2 years dating him… I should’ve married him the instant we both knew, but his patience with me was remarkable.
All of this to say… I did it. I went on the very last vacation my husband would ever plan for us. I missed him, desperately, every single second of that trip, but, and I know how odd this sounds… I felt him with me. When the wind blew the hair off my face, when I sipped a cocktail, when I laughed at the utter ridiculousness coming out of my son’s mouth… Chris was there with me.
Looking ahead… it’s looming… August 11, 2022. The 1 year mark. It feels like the heaviest coat I’ve ever had to wear. It’s messed up, because I just accomplished going on this trip that constantly reminded me of who should be by my side, right? And then as the summer begins there is this enhanced intensity. Every time I see memories pop-up from last summer, it’s the “lasts” that are adding a weight to my grief. Our last date night, our last week alone at home because Matt had gone off to camp, our last family vacation together…an entire summer of, “lasts”.
Oh grief. It really is the price we pay for loving someone. And it’s a hefty-ass price. It physically hurts, emotionally drains, and spiritually challenges you. This grief never leaves, never relents… but… it does allow for the most intense realizations. I knew love. Like the real-deal, LOVE. Not between me and my children, that’s a given, not with my friends, not with my family … but the intimate kind of love between a husband and a wife. The kind of love that one builds a life with, a family with, the kind of love that brings a secret smile to your face because of a moment that was shared. The kind of love that doesn’t die. I wouldn’t change a thing about my life, just because I’d never want to miss the opportunity to enjoy and experience a love like the one my husband and I were blessed enough to have.
A summer of remembering “lasts” exists alongside a summer of “firsts”. Moments that continue to remind me that I can still experience both joy and grief, laughter and sadness, loneliness even while around people.
This life is dichotomous, it’s the best word that exists for it. I went on our cruise… now, I just have to keep living our life. Our life… without my other half.