3,470 Miles

I write this from my hostel in Dublin, Ireland. Today is the tenth day of our trip and the last country before heading home and checking back into reality. While it’s been refreshing to get away for a bit, the shadow of grief you cast upon me knows no bounds and still follows me wherever I go.

I am faced with the harsh reality that even fifty years from now, no matter the possibilities the future holds…

I will always be your widow.

Loch Lomond to Glendalough, your absence is like the sky- spread over everything. My joy is tainted with the reoccurring thought of I wish you were here.