Trains, Planes, and Automobiles; Road Trip

I enjoy road trips in cars because I like to stop on the road to pick up grandmother rock to bring back home as a token of my journey. In 2003 a friend of a friend was diagnosed terminally ill and had a very short time to live. Her last wish was to bring her trailer to Silver City, Mexico from New Orleans, Louisiana. So here we are three ladies driving a Ford pickup truck with a trailer hitched to the back and having to drive for days of the three only two could drive. I was the only non-veteran which means that I had to really keep my eyes on the road, for the next nine days while listening to Country Western Music on the radio most of the time, and I wore finger less leather gloves. It just made me feel rough and rugged behind the wheel. That was all about to change when we entered San Antonio, Texas one night it was really high winds, and I was having a time keeping the truck steady, and the trailer hitched to the back from fish tailing. Out of the dark night came this big 18 wheeler truck driver who noticed that I was distressed he blew his horn twice came from behind me passed me up and drove the rest of the night in front of me to keep the wind off which ultimate stopped the trailer from fish tailing in the windward night. It was the next year after burying my son that I lost to gun violence. So being up around the mountains was such a beautiful experience and I was able to release my deceased son’s spirit back into the earth with a small ceremony among the three of us because my grieving process had not really started. I was still in survival mode, and was trying to help others through their tragedy which was so irrational on so many levels because I was not healed of my own hurt and pain. It was only one anniversary of my son’s passing away. I can recall the year before in 2001 I met a Native American woman named “Alta” It was a immediate connection between the two of us one time she took off her dance wrap shawl from around her shoulders with a colorful eagle on the back because she said I was going to need “Courage” . Little did I know that the next year would be the most tragic thing that I could ever imagine? No mother should ever have to bury a child especially, not to a senseless murder where everybody loses. I never really saw “Alta” again, but I still think about her often. I think about her wisdom and how she empowered me with the wrapping of the dance shawl. I do not know if that is customary but it was such a wonderful gift that words cannot describe. As she removed the shawl she gently placed her hand over her heart meaning, “Until we meet again” She did not believe in saying the words. “Good-bye” great memory which is why I blog. We drove to Arizona to the Veterans Administration Hospital to pick up some pain medications. As a result, I picked up this really strange blue rock somewhere in Arizona and it seems to change shades of blue with the season changes until this very day. The last night of our journey we stopped at a truck stop under bright lights to sleep we had our fill of hotels and besides that we was just plum tired and tuckered out. The next day was Christmas Eve and sad to say the young lady that we drove to Silver City, Mexico died the next year. In Memory of Cathy. RIP. and to “Alta” I wish you the best.

Have you helped someone live out their last wishes? Would you risk your life to do it? What are you feelings about this journey?

To be continue…


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