Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Bad vacations can be good to

  • The picture in my profile, this one, shows the man I met and fell in love with. We were happy, both of us relatively healthy. We camped, we hiked, had a wonder filled trip to California that was the most stressful, craziest, amazing trip ever. It was the trip to hell that began with  a broken down RV, car rental places not open on a Saturday, finding a hotel to accommodate us and a 36 ft RV, and a $300 two block tow to the shop. It was a trip of family bonding, sitting in lawn chair for 12 hrs while AAA tried to find a big enough tow truck, counting how many times the same police car drove by and never stopped until the tow truck was there. It was a terrifying brief separation as the second tow truck AAA called just to take me and the kids to a hotel, the wrong one, and A $20 tip to convince the hotel driver to take us to the right hotel, meeting a father and son who were there for boat races and invited us to join their team so we wouldn't have to pay entry fees, and discovering a child had lice.
It was a trip to Alcatraz, walking the switchbacks, exploring the buildings, seeing amazing things. A boat trip back with the island in the background of an American flag flapping wildly.


It was a trip to the Winchester mansion, a walking tour narrated.


It was a trip to a park, sitting in a class about dolphins before my kids donned wetsuits to climb in a pool full of dolphins. Watching them grab the dolphins fun to be pulled around the pool.


It was amazing.


It was our last big family trip, and only one.
The man I married can't do those things anymore. He can't walk through a store anymore. He needs a cane to go from bed to bathroom, when he is able, when not he slides out of bed to kneel on the floor and use a urinal.


Despite it all that was the best trip ever, it was before Parkinsons, before leukemia, before bankruptcy, before all that stole our life.




I don't regret any of it. I cherish every bit of those memories and the trip from hell. I have them to remind me of when things were good.
He would like to go on a cruise. I won't be able to take him on one. I want to stand in Times square and kiss him as the ball drops on New Years eve. I want to take him to Yellowstone. Parkinson's won't let us.
I want to take him away, somewhere we can forget disease, doctors, medication.


I took him to the fair.