I went to China. It’s the first time I’ve traveled outside the US. It was amazing. It was refreshing to step out of the daily routine. To go somewhere where people can’t really talk to you, because you don’t speak the same language. I went with another widow. It was actually her trip that she never got to take and I tagged along.  Although you can’t leave the grief it was nice not to have to face it every second of the day. Although that was the challenge of coming back to the room we share, The living room where he would fall asleep of the couch early and I would make fun of him, The yard where we worked together and now is this beast that I struggle with to keep it looking nice (and I’m failing at). To work, where still 18 months later, I walk by the conference room where they told me my life would never be the same, everyday.  It was a great trip, but I’ve feel thrown back these last few days.