Driving East

I drive slowly away from the shadow of our dream, my love. You are sitting quietly next to me in the passenger seat, your box wrapped tightly in the shirt that you wore when we explored the East Coast for the first time. Flashes of that time cross my mind as I bite my lip and head East. I attempt to hold onto these images instead of the one that is my reality. Instead of your beautiful smile and hand on my knee, I ride with your ashes by my side and your shirt wrapped tightly around the box. 

My body is still, my eyes are straight ahead, and my heart still aches with an ache that most don’t know, as of yet.

My mind is racing from the past to the present and hesitantly towards the future. I am moving away from our Portland home, my love. It’s time. I can feel you so close to me that my heart races with anticipation that perhaps you will appear, ever so close yet just out of reach, but perhaps you will appear this one time if I just hold onto the memories a little longer.

Death is a funny thing, my love. Oh how I long to talk to you about the crazy ups and downs, the way that this world is spinning so fast and out of control while I grasp for the reins to try to slow it down a bit.  I think if you were here we could make sense of it together, talk about the secrets of the world, and then figure out that we really don’t know anything but that it’s ok because we have love. Pure, unmessy, unconditional, time stopping, love. But, I can’t talk to you yet, my love. So I rely on the ten thousand words we shared before you were gone.

So, I drive. I drive quietly with a hope for the road ahead of me. When I met you I dropped everything and followed you. We walked up countless mountains together; always with you in the lead and me smiling as I watched your legs lead me uphill. We talked about these hikes, these tangible examples of how I would follow you anywhere, forever.  Our respect for one another growing every second as we figured out that the only true thing in this world is the love that God gave us to share with the utmost respect. Nothing more.

As the miles pass I think about the love that we shared, this rare kind of love that not everyone is open to having because they are scared of the unknown. As the sun rises and falls with every passing day, I will remember this love. I will hold onto this truth and remind myself that this was not a dream, because, my love, sometimes it feels like a dream.

I reach the Hood River Bridge and I feel like I am home. I feel your strength and I know that you are happy to be back to where it all started for us. I think about that time and I smile. You are here, my love, you will always be here. As I continue my journey back where we started, I will carry you with me, my love, and I will continue what you started. Living life to the fullest and changing the world, ever so slightly, with my eagerness to see it all.