Considering travel

Sandy in the Keystone Cabin on Whidbey Island when we were
there for our anniversary in 2005. We were also there for our
anniversary last year, and many other weekends over the years.

I haven't been out of town since Sandy died. If we'd had the summer we planned, we'd have gone camping multiple times, spent at least a weekend on San Juan Island, and by now we'd probably have gone to Whidbey Island again. Or Mt. Rainier for a weekend.

We traveled to get away from our to-do lists, and in the last year, to take a little vacation from all the reminders of cancer. Our weekend trips were times for physical activity (biking, hiking, kayaking), exploring (wandering around Victoria, Vancouver, or one of the islands), good food, and reading. Lots of reading. Lying around on sofas engrossed in books or magazines, interrupting to read especially interesting or well-written bits to each other.

The truth is that I need a vacation. I'm overdue for some time away from my to-do list and the reminders of all that I've lost. But the thought of traveling panics me. Not the travel itself; I've never feared for my physical safety when traveling alone, and I'm quite capable of negotiating all that goes along with travel. My panic comes from the idea of actually being in a place that used to bring us peace. I crave our familiar destinations, and I fear that they'll be too painful for me to bear.

So, try someplace new, right? Ah, but that sounds impossible. Here in Seattle, I rush home to be back in the space where Sandy lived, to be in a place filled with memories of her (and sometimes filled with her spirit now). If I went someplace familiar, I could still picture her there. If I go someplace we didn't go together, I fear I'll feel even further from her.

I've been playing with the idea of a weekend away for a month or more now, but it's becoming more focused as we approach our 16th anniversary. I want to mark that day in some way, and a night in one of our favorite spots seems like an appropriate way to honor it. I just don't know whether I can bear it.