This has been impossible to write.  I’ve started it a dozen times without being able to continue, and another couple dozen just telling myself I have to start it, but it’s just been too painful to get a handle on.  My wife Kathy and I started an adventure almost 4 years ago with the goal of traveling and enjoying a mobile life for as long as her muscular dystrophy would allow.  Unfortunately, she was ambushed in August of 2017 by an out-of-the-blue and very rare torsion bowel obstruction that in the US typically affects 2 or 3 people out of 100,000.  An emergency helicopter medi-vac, emergency surgery, (twice) and 2 months of ICU recovery saved her life, and we were able to make it back to the Southern California area near her family.  But the crushing combination of the surgical side effects, the weakness stemming from the surgeries and a 2 month hospital stay, the muscular dystrophy, and a 10 year old gastric bypass surgery proved too much for her and she passed away in her sleep in March of this year.

We had 29 years, 9 months and 9 days together.  It wasn’t enough.  Of course I should be celebrating that time, and I am trying… (many people don’t enjoy anywhere near that much) but the hole (and pain) in my heart and my life is real and very large.  All long term marriages have ups and downs, and ours certainly did, but the last 10 were so much up.  We both enjoyed the traveling so much.  Being in new areas we’d never been to before.  Exploring, shopping, (for her) photographing the sites, (for me) and just being places together we’d never been before and looking forward to the places we wanted to see still.  New York and the east coast, the Florida Keys, the Great Lakes, Maine, Alaska, Canada, hell, even Texas.  Coming to grips with the end of this shared adventure is crushing and bewildering.  Where to go from here?

We’ve always been a Southern California family, but without her I find my ties to “SoCal” are now pretty small.  Our daughter and very soon-to-be husband relocated to the Pacific Northwest a few years ago, Almost all of Kathy’s family live in Orange County, but I’m sure I’ve been a terrible in-law over the years; so focused on my photography business and interests, along with a healthy dash of introvert, didn’t seem to lend itself to close ties on that side.  No doubt totally my fault… except with her two brothers who are… well, let’s say difficult, above and apart from any lack on my end.  :)   Just kidding, (but not really) and to be fair, my sister and brother-in-law have been extraordinary and wonderful.  My family is spread across too many states to count, with a good brother in Idaho, an awful sister of my own in CA, (not counting that on my tally either) and a multitude of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews in various places that even my Mom never seemed to keep up with; too widespread, distant and independent.  So again… where to go from here?

All my friends are there, including those I consider close and lifelong, (but internet/social networks, cell phones, texting, instant messaging, and Facetime are a thing) and my photography life has been there as well.  25+ years of photography studio, Past-President, Executive Director and longtime contributing member of Inland Empire Professional Photographers, Past-President and longtime involvement in Professional Photographers of California.  All of it seems so hard to walk away from.  With Kathy’s family all  being there, it didn’t feel like walking away when the two of us starting our walkabout.  We knew we’d be back often to see her family, but without her, that no longer feels true.   California simply doesn’t feel like “home” anymore, and the horrendous crowding and seemingly daily carmageddon level of traffic congestion (and terrible drivers) certainly doesn’t help.  The RV feels like home, and doesn’t feel more or less like home depending on whether it’s parked in California, Idaho or Canada.

Eventually I’m sure I will also settle in the Pacific Northwest, wanting to be near our terrific daughter on a more regular basis, (how else am I going to be able to be all up in her business like a good parent should) and feeling a road weariness that seems a long, long way away.  Right now I feel like the vision and choice Kathy and I made to travel is unfinished business.  I miss her every day, almost more than I can bear, and I’m nowhere near ready to let it, or her, go.