Raymond has been gone one month today. I’m a stranger on this dark, lonely road. I don’t sing anymore. I’m paralyzed. I can’t get off the couch. I don’t clean, I don’t eat, don’t make jewelry, haven’t even started to go through Raymond’s things, and I don’t care.
So I sit, and remember. I remember the plans we had. Plans of travels in our new camper, which sits, alone at the end of the block, like I sit here. Frozen and alone.
Maybe I should continue with our plan and travel this winter. Alone? That wasn’t our plan. They say that God laughs when we make plans, but why would God take this away from us? Ray and I spoke of meeting people on our journey, connecting with them and sharing our love. We talked about making other people’s days brighter simply because we had a chance to interact. Our intention was to share our love and light and bring our joy to the road. I’d sell my jewelry, he’d play the guitar, we’d both sing. We had it all figured out.
Why would God take such a high vision away? Our intentions were so beautiful. Our relationship so deep. He has been gone a month and I feel so alone, so lost, so paralyzed.
Maybe I will travel this winter…maybe I can get a girlfriend to tag along, and we can share the vision I had with Raymond. The vision of sandy beaches, tropical breezes and making connections with strangers, like me, on a dark, lonely road.