Trips - Written by Wanda Rodriguez - Written on June 20, 2025 - Published on June 23, 2025

Trips

Written by Wanda Rodriguez

Written on June 20, 2025 

Published on June 23, 2025

My last post was a vivid step back in time to the day my world (our family's world!) came crashing down.  That fateful day, back in September of 2021, changed the trajectory of my life forever.  Dave’s (husband of 30+ years, partner in all things for more like 36 years) unforeseen seizure, subsequent diagnosis of glioblastoma, ensuing treatments coupled with miraculous gifts and blessings, devastating decline, gut wrenching final days and eventual, heartbreaking, final goodbyes ruled the landscape of our home.  Every discussion, decision, plan, outing or endeavor invariably circled around this unyielding illness, this thief called cancer, and all that accompanied it. (I would like to interject here that - CANCER SUCKS!!!)  Among the many things we discussed were the trips we had the delight in sharing over the years, and the others that we yet hoped to make together (sadly, most of the latter were not meant to be, at least not while physically together).

A few months before Dave’s time here on earth came to its heartbreaking conclusion, we had the good fortune (and great pleasure!) of visiting Oahu, Hawaii.  This was an amazing, unforgettable, breathtakingly beautiful experience.  I’ve mentioned before, but it warrants fresh praise here, that this spectacular outing would not have been possible if not for the loving kindness and generosity of those who helped get us there and the selfless generosity of those who graciously opened their home to us, allowing us to revel in this tropical paradise.  This was quite a gift of patience on their part as we came with only tentative plans (at best), limited finances and tremendous uncertainty (putting it mildly).  We had to play each day (each outing, each minute …) by ear, with minimal (sometimes zero) advanced planning on activities.  Dave’s unsettled health, paired with the tremendous fatigue it left in its wake, resulted in us doing a lot of flying by the seat of our pants and last-minute revisions to plans.  I know how frustrating this can be, especially to a detail oriented, organized host, but ours were nothing but gracious and accommodating through it all.  This trip, Dave and I agreed, was the most beautiful place we had ever seen.  It also stands, forever, as our last big outing together.  (sigh …)

Since Dave’s passing in March of 2024, I have been slowly chipping away at some of the bucket list trips he and I hoped to experience together.  In May of last year, I hit the first of these bucket list outings.  I embarked on a Southwest driving adventure with our two youngest children.  Together we had the privilege of exploring parts of South Dakota, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona.  This was an extraordinary expedition, during which time we fell in love with the diverse scenery of the Southwest, with special affinity for Utah.  The highlight of the trip was the Grand Canyon National Park.  I am not going to delve into this outing, as I have previously written about this trip in detail.  If you are interested in learning more about our foray to the Southwest, I invite you to scroll back to my blog to read “New Terrain, Like the Grand Canyon” (written May 28, 2024, and posted March 12, 2025).

Fast forward to the penning of this post.  I began writing on the plane, while traveling with one of my daughters, at the kickoff of another bucket list adventure.  This time, I will be taking the Alaskan cruise that Dave had often spoken of, with wanderlust in his voice and sparkling excitement in his eyes. (Tangent alert - Dave had the most beautiful eyes, of bright green and blue, speckled with flecks of yellow gold that seemed to twinkle in the light as if they were dancing gently across the cool, clear water of a warm summer day.  Truly something to behold. And when he laughed or smiled, those fetching eyes somehow seemed to shimmer impossibly brighter!  I would often say I could go swimming in his warm, inviting, delightful eyes) On countless occasions, Dave shared the splendors of an Alaskan adventure previously taken by an admired colleague and his wife (also a valued colleague).  He deeply wanted to share a similar experience with me and spoke of it fondly and frequently, with such joyful anticipation (liken it to a child speaking to Santa at the mall).  As his illness progressed, however, it became ever clear that this trip was not in the cards for us.  (Imagine, if you will, an hourglass clock with the sands quickly shifting to the other side.  This image is forever etched in my mind and equated to Dave, our life together and his final months and days.) It was more of a known pipe dream but also a bit of a carrot, in a sense, as it was something we continued to discuss and verbally plan and look forward together even with the gravity of the situation clearly saying it was not an option.  It gave him something to excitedly look forward to rather than something else for him to mourn the loss of, as his life, abilities and independence, slowly (and quickly at the same time!) slipped from his grasp.  It was something we held tightly onto as it waved in front of our faces, like a carrot, as something we would experience together one day.  I knew the truth of the matter was that it was not going to happen and it actually caused me great pain to discuss it with him (on the inside, but on the outside, I tried hard to make my eyes sparkle and meet his excitement).  Despite the internal pain and scarring, discuss and plan I did because it gave Dave joy, hope, and something to hope for.  Anything to make him smile!   Alas, it was not meant to transpire as we had hoped, but today I begin the much-anticipated journey, for him, for us, for closure, for healing, for love (forever!).  I am thankful beyond measure to be able to take this journey and to share it with my beautiful daughter who, by the way, shares every bit (and then some!!) of the same joy, beauty, charm and twinkle in her colorful, joyful, magnificent eyes that Dave carried.  

As I wrap up this entry, my daughter and I excitedly await our scheduled cruise departure to Alaska (leaving on the afternoon of 6/23/25).  We have been sharing a few enjoyable days in Washington State prior to our departure.  Together we have already had many laughs, but I have found myself tearing up (or full-on blubbering!!) as swiftly as a passing breeze.  I find that I am a bundle of raw, exposed emotions.  This trip, this adventure, this experience is but another door closing to my heart and my soul in a painfully beautiful, horrifically long series of goodbyes.

I often close my blogs with encouragement, reminders or challenges for whomever might be reading the post.  Today, instead, I offer myself up for your prayerful support as I take these next, painful steps towards healing over the coming days.  I feel completely vulnerable, exposed, ill-equipped, weak, and terrified.  Please cover Bria and myself in prayers of travel mercies.  Please also pray for peace, joy, and continued healing for myself, my children and our family members as God graciously walks us through our own difficult paths (carrying us when needed).  Ongoing prayers for renewed peace, joy and tranquility are ever appreciated.  

Thank you for joining me on this first leg of our Alaskan adventure.  Cheers to Dave!  More details to follow in future posts.