It’s been 606 days since I last wrote on this blog. 1069 days since George and I posted our last podcast episode—sometimes I just listen to little snippets of the podcast, just to hear his voice.

The silence has been the loudest part.

When you lose your person, the person who was your co-pilot in everything, the grief doesn’t just hit the big things; it attacks your identity. And for us, travel wasn’t just a hobby; it was a HUGE part of our shared identity. We were “the travelers.” We were the ones with the ridiculous packing system, the ones who always knew where the best hole-in-the-wall bakery was, the ones who would book our next trip while we were on our current trip. Always planning gave us something to look forward to!

Every single adventure, from a weekend drive to a trans-continental flight, was built on the foundation of us.

When he passed, the passport felt too heavy to lift. The luggage, which we could manage together with ease, became an impossible, symbolic weight. Every trip, every sunrise and every sunset triggers the same thought: “George would have loved this. George would have had the perfect witty comment or joke about anything and everything.” If you knew George, you totally get it!

I stopped writing because living without him is so totally overwhelming, but I also couldn’t figure out how to write in the first-person singular. “We did this…” was our language, our rhythm. Who am I, or what is this blog, if it’s just me saying, “I did this?”. Being a widow is such a strange “place”. According to forms I fill out and for tax purposes, I am no longer married. But that just doesn't sit right with me. George is always going to be a large part of who I am! He will always be my husband.

I have travelled a little bit since he has been gone. But I haven’t chased a sunrise in a foreign country or booked a spontaneous train ticket. I’ve been parked. I haven't even used my actual camera in over two years! I take pictures on my phone, but sharing them just isn't the same.

This blog…it was us. I have grappled with how to continue on and share with you. Just when I am ready to give up on it, I receive a message from someone thanking me for a blog. They are grateful for the help planning their future adventures…and THAT is what we always hoped to do!

But I’m also realizing something important: he wasn't just my companion; he was the person who encouraged me to be brave…and he took my crazy ideas and made them happen! He wouldn't want the map to stay folded forever.

So, I’m taking the first tentative step. I'm thinking about returning to the blog! Not to replace the magic we had, because that’s impossible. But to see if I can find a new kind of magic, a quiet strength, in the act of discovery, carrying his memory with me.

This blog used to be about our journey. I’m wondering if maybe, just maybe, it can now be about the journey back to myself.

I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can write about it. But the thought is there, sitting beside the empty seat, waiting for the engine to start.

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The Empty Seat: Finding My Way Back