Going Down the Only Road I've Ever Known

I'm at DIA waiting for my connection to Omaha. It’s quite a layover, and I’ve settled in for the wait. I’ve got my hazelnut coffee within reach and I found my favorite seat in the terminal—the one at the end of the row facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. Unfortunately, I must be facing the north, east or south because the mountains are nowhere in sight.

Currently playing on my iPod is “Here I Go Again on My Own.” You know, the one by Whitesnake. Take moment to rock out in your head. Yeah!

Though I’m thoroughly enjoying this great song, the words could not be a more distorted reflection of my needs in the last week. My job requires me to be largely independent: living on my own in a new city, using my own judgment when assessing the needs of a chapter, as well as traveling, eating and writing reports on my own.

But this week I needed people. I craved family and friendship, love and camaraderie. Why was this week different? October 9 marked the first anniversary of my father’s death.

When I lost my dad, I felt as though I was in a dark tunnel for months. Light was dim and I was claustrophobic. I had serious doubts that I could handle a life of solitary traveling. Before I left, a woman I trust recommended I spend extra time maintaining contact with those I love in order to avoid loneliness on the road.

I was wary; this would be a stretch for me, as I am not typically the one to reach out. I made the effort, though, and I was surprised. I didn’t even have to work at it! My heart swells to remember how my family and friends rallied to show me they are thinking of me while I’m away. I came home this week to an incredibly warm reception from my close friends, chapter members, mother and little brother. Not to mention my colleagues miles away in Texas and dispersed across the US.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I want you all to know the extent of my gratitude for your love and support. During what could have been a dreadfully tough week for me, you showed me that I am not alone. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

The week ended pleasantly, and I am happily moving forward. I visited the cemetery with my mother and grandparents, and my mom simultaneously laughed and cried as she anointed Dad’s grave with Dr. Pepper, his favorite drink. Now, en route to my next visit, I remember this fondly and know it is the support of those who love me that helps beat the grief away.

I’m aware that this is a less charming post than others I’ve published, but I feel it’s important to disclose the details of this job and traveling lifestyle fairly and with respect to all human emotion. Everyone’s life is tough sometimes, and I want my readers to know that I am human, too.

Thank you for not only bearing with me, but keeping me aloft! You were my inspiration this week, and, at the risk of being a cheeseball, you’ll always have a place in my heart.