I swear this will not turn into a travel blog… my bank account and nervous system shall not allow it, so never you fear.

So! While I know my schedule lately makes me look like I just suddenly went off the deep and and have been furiously running away… it isn’t like that.

Sure, it’s all predicated on a hefty dose of this:

And some good ol’ nihilism dashes (My old refrain of “nothing means anything so why the hell not” rears it’s head here…)

What it mostly is is happenstance and over confidence in my own capacity. My DC trip timing was based on my being accepted as an advocate for the Headache on the Hill event- so that had set dates and planning started in the fall. My Mexico trip was based on when my friends were in Belize and could meet me in Mexico- so that had set dates and planning started on that one last year too. And my work trip at the end of February popped up last minute and the boss that asked me if I could make it couldn’t really get replied to with a “no”- again with dictated dates out of my control.

It happens. Let’s never fucking do it again, ‘mmkay?

DC was a good trip. I don’t think the advocacy we did for headache disorders accomplished anything and the whole affair felt like PTA moms with no concept of effective effort or care as to results. I am not cut out for effort for efforts sake, I am interested in results here… so that will be my last event with that group. I’ll focus in on the Cluster Buster group, specifically for cluster headaches, as they got Harvard and Yale to do studies and had an integral hand in getting psilocybin legalization passed in Colorado and Oregon. So like… they get shit done. I’ll work with them in the future.

Here is a pain scale on cluster headaches- not to in any way to minimize the debilitating nature of migraines, but to convey the extreme level of pain that come with cluster headaches.

But still, even in spite of everything, it was good. I got to walk the halls of the government and got to be the only goddamn one in my group that could nail a pitch or make a compelling argument and my background as a salesman came in handy. And I got to do something, about a cause I feel strongly about.

It was a long day- starting at 5am and by 4pm my grief was catching me. Hallways turned liminal. My mind turned sideways and didn’t want to work right anymore. I skipped the last meeting of the day and walked to the shuttle busses alone. We’d done 6 meetings, I couldn’t do any more even though I was one of the only non- headache disorder sufferers there. Many participants with headache disorders dropped out through the day as they got migraines or cluster attacks, etc. I had to accept I wasn’t healthy either, just in a different way.

I tried my best and it’s okay.

I took all 3 girls with me on this trip and they are great travel companions. Even the youngest is old enough that travel and vacations can be fun and laid back. We stayed with my cousins who took the girls around on Monday and Tuesday while I was working. Sunday we got to see the monuments and went to an outdoor market and made dinner and hung out. And Wednesday I took them to some museums before we flew home- so fun was had by all.

My husband took students to DC a couple of times. He sent us pictures from many of the places we went on this trip. To be divided not spatially, just temporally, was odd. Not sad exactly… but also not not sad too. It was okay. But I was definitely aware of it.

We went to the national portrait gallery, and my youngest, who is obsessed with Van Gogh, got to see one of his works that she has a poster of up in her room. The older two loved the paintings but especially seemed to enjoy the sculpture rooms. I’m realizing I really love Cezanne… there are some stunning works there.

The National Asian Art Museum was my favorite museum we went to. I love love love postwar woodblocks… and lo and behold they had an ENTIRE gallery of them!

Cannot recommend enough.

And I got the thrill of seeing this: One of the tile roof series by Sekino Jun’ichirō.

why is that one important to me, you may ask? (other than it’s awesome and I love it.)

Oh no reason. Other than that I own an artist proof of another one in the series!

I got it at an estate sale. The way it was framed and matted originally covered up the signature. I paid $50 or $75 for it. Love it. The children were suitably impressed. And I could perfectly hear the conversation that would have played out with my husband. “It’s because you have an eye!” “I know! It’s why I picked you!” It made me smile, to think of, as I was standing there in the museum.

We also went to the International Spy Museum which I highly recommend but be aware it isn’t part of the Smithsonian so it isn’t free. You get assigned a spy persona and have tasks to complete as you go through… which sounds cheesy but was not- and all of us from the nine year old to the 45 year old enjoyed it.

Here is my persona’s “disguise”… which, considering I wear a baseball cap about 70% of the time in this life, I was fairly unimpressed by… the children got colored hair or were dripping in diamonds… and I got to dress like I do for every Tuesday in October I’ve ever had. Oh well.

It was a good trip and the children loved it and I got to spend days and days with all three of them together in one place again.

It was good and I am still glad to be back.

And while I hope I have properly conveyed that these plans and trips over the last month were all pretty far in advance planned and are not me being… what’s the word… insane and making decisions spur of the moment… there was still WAY too much future planning going on that led to most of them. It was as if I began to feel better in the fall and so started signing myself up for shit like I was a parent coming up on T-ball season. But no. I am no exuberant 6 year old who needs to run off some steam. There is no steam. Current me also absolutely did some cursing of past me… who wasn’t the one to pull all this stuff off.

But. All of those things are now checked off the list. The dance card is cleared finally and I don’t have plans to pack it as full again anytime soon.

And, through all of this, I realize future planning is still uncomfortable. I can look ahead now with mostly dry eyes… but it doesn’t mean that is what I should be doing. Not collapsing from the weight of something isn’t the same as comfort, after all. And so (as I say cyclically and what feels like every third blog post) back to the present and where I am now, breathing through, and just tending this life where I am.

This “ramping it all back” is not some arduous task I chafe against (too much). I am in fact doing what I said I would do before and digging my hands into the soil and spending evenings and weekends cleaning and weeding and planting and hauling in endless-seeming bags of cotton bur compost and mulch into the garden. I have seeds planted and tomatoes in and the driveway bed is weeded and replanted with deer resistant plants. I have the giant pile of bamboo they cut to get the shed in reduced by 2/3 as I’ve been burning it off on non-windy days. Today I’ll call one of my uncles (not sure who yet) and have them walk me through small engine maintenance and getting the lawnmower started again. I don’t want them to do it for me, I want to learn. And then I want to mow my lawn.

The roses have started blooming… and all of them have buds. My beloved Souvenir de la Malmaisson was first out of the gate with a bloom.

I am still the person who does that, at least. That part I’m sure of, even if the rest of it is a mystery, again.

And spring is here. I wish it wasn’t such an in my face reminder as to what is coming up in two months. How it’s been almost a year when I could barely survive the first hour without Lucas is a mystery. The human heart’s capacity to carry on has been lauded by many who were better able to convey it than me. But goodness the keeping on just keeps keeping on, doesn’t it?

Last week I was in the garden planting tomatoes and a honey bee flew close by, and was nosing around the mulch bags. I’ve still been reading about grief practices from around the world, and had read about the Celtic practice of “Telling the Bees.” This is where bee hives are informed of important events- deaths, births, marriages, etc.- as a sign of respect and connection. The hives in the gardens of Buckingham Palace were informed of the Queen’s death, for example. And so… with no real thought to it, I just stood there like some Winslow Homer painting leaning on a pitchfork and said outloud to the bee: “My husband died. I’m doing the best I can.”

Didn’t even know that was what was going to come out of my mouth. Honestly I’d have expected myself to wax a touch more poetic… or maybe like, mention my mom in there too? But no. It was just that. Said outloud to a honeybee.

As SOON as I started talking it flew over to hover two feet in front of my face, stayed a beat or two after I finished talking, and then zipped away over the fence. The whole thing absolutely took my breath away. What just HAPPENED here, you know? I stood there for a while and just looked at the sky. Then I went back to digging in the garden afterwards.

I have no idea what any of it means.

Maybe I never have.

Certainty is for the stupid, I guess.

Maybe it’s a new mantra.

Hell if I know.

Till next time.