My solo-honeymoon

Despite being together close to a decade, my husband and I weren’t married for very long. We were engaged for years and we had plans to elope to Gibraltar in April, 2020. At the time, I had a side gig as a travel writer so we’d taken some pretty epic trips during our relationship. Our honeymoon was supposed to top them all. Our plan was to head down on our BMW motorcycle from Germany through France down to the coast south of Provence towards Barcelona. From there, we’d follow the Mediterranean coast of Spain to Gibraltar where we’d spend a few days getting married and exploring the area. I wanted desperately to visit Morocco and even though it wasn’t officially on our agenda, I wasn’t ready to give up on that idea just yet and thought I might convince him at the last minute. After the wedding, we’d head north through Spain to Portugal, and then east through Spain, to the Pyrenees, and on to Andorra. From there, we’d make a quick stop in Lourdes until we eventually made our way back home to Germany. We figured it would take about 3-4 weeks but at the time we were planning this, we each had more than enough vacation time at work. About two weeks before we were ready to leave, European countries closed their borders. I don’t need to explain what happened after that.

We attempted to reschedule several times but the ever changing responses to the pandemic made it impossible to plan anything in another country – especially for us, since we were overseas on a special type of visa. Eventually, we chose to get married by having our wedding license notarized at a legal office on a military base close by. We joked how we wanted something low key but this was much lower than we planned. But no worries we thought, because we would make up for it later. Perhaps we’d throw a wedding reception type party later on or we’d finally find a suitable time for everyone and do something over Zoom. At the very least, we’d still do our honeymoon as soon as we were able. We agreed that as long as we took that epic trip, it would feel sufficient.

An entire year went by and regulations in Europe were still flip-flopping between things being open and being closed. ​The best we could do was to squeeze in a mini-family vacation and since fall was just around the corner, our motorcycle honeymoon adventure would have to wait. However, a few months later, he took a new job resulting in the loss of his banked leave. Noting my disappointment, he offered for us to have professional pictures done in Paris in honor of our first year anniversary until we could figure out how to take such a large block of time off. I was satisfied with that but when his dad had a stroke a few weeks later, we postponed our appointment with the photographer in Paris so we could return to the United States to help the family.

Shortly after we returned to Germany from the United States this whole nightmare began. Needless to say, we never took our pictures or our honeymoon.

At this point in my life, I am fairly certain I am going to be leaving Europe permanently and moving back to the United States. Initially, I planned to take a version of our honeymoon trip before I officially moved away, figuring it would be easier to do as long as I still had a home base on the continent. Perhaps I’d drive my own car? Spread his ashes along the way? Maybe I’d take my dog?

There were several iterations of my solo-honeymoon and while almost all had potential, none felt totally right. I went ahead and bought my ticket to Europe from the USA thinking that would act as a catalyst for the rest of the honeymoon plan to come together. For almost two weeks, I suffered horrible stomach cramps that kept me in bed for days until I realized that they might be anxiety-related. Three days before I was scheduled to leave for Europe, my sister-in-law sat down with me to help me plan.

I couldn’t do it. I cried and cried and felt my heart race as I thought about things like passing through cities he and I had visited just weeks before his cancer diagnosis. When I realized I was having a physical reaction to the idea of visiting some of these places without him, I decided I wasn’t ready to do a solo-honeymoon. Not now. Maybe not ever.

In the end, I planned a quick trip to Greece followed by a few days in Morocco. I’m on that trip now. When I leave Morocco, I’ll head towards Germany where I will have to face some excruciating moments like meeting with a lawyer to officially announce his death in the German records, put our house up for sale, talk to movers, and worst of all, sort through his personal belongings. In a way, I’ve been lucky that I haven’t had to face that task just yet, since I remained in America for the months following his passing.

Why Greece and Morocco? I don’t know – I guess because I’d never been to either. I wanted to find evidence of wonder and awe; I wanted to find a reason to get out of bed; I wanted to feel like myself again. I planned some tours and cooking lessons in each country and purposely picked hotels that I found visually pleasing and that had full service spas so I could get massages. So far, the trip is going as planned but that doesn’t mean I haven’t spent a lot of time crying my eyes out. I miss him so much, it feels like someone reached inside me and pulled out my bowels.

I am grateful that neither of these countries has anything to remind me of him which makes the periods when I cry somehow feel separate from my current experiences. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty for feeling good, but I do. Since I began this solo adventure, I have laughed and felt engaged in my surroundings without feeling a dark cloud of doom hovering over me. I’ve felt normal – sometimes even happy? I’ve felt like myself again. And for some stupid reason, as soon as I think, “Whoa, I feel good! I don’t feel like I’m grieving!” I feel like crap again. I feel shame. I feel guilt when I feel good. I feel like it appears like I didn’t love him if I’m laughing after only three months. But I did love him. I loved him very much. I just don’t want to feel bad for the rest of my life so I’m doing things to feel better.