Look Through My Eyes

On the last weekend of 2019, I decided to take an impromptu road trip. While the purpose was technically to deliver some items to a friend in Dallas, my hope for the trip was to focus on myself. I tend to be a person who is continually gauging the emotions of everyone around me. "Is she upset?" "Does he want to be here?" "Did I say the wrong thing?" "What can I do/say to make this more enjoyable for ____?" While this kind of monitoring has served me well in many situations, it often makes for miserable trips because I spend so much time worrying about those around me that I forget to enjoy myself.

In so many ways, my trip was a success. I stopped when I wanted to stop without hesitation. I really slowed down and took things in. I enjoyed my own company.

 I wasn't all by myself though.

Once, a song came on the radio and I started tapping along to the beat on my steering wheel. Suddenly, I was overcome by a memory of my friend Bryant, who recently passed away, singing along to a song and drumming enthusiastically on his steering wheel as I was laughing easily in the passenger seat. It was such a beautiful, happy memory, but it caught me off guard. I started to cry and couldn't stop. I pulled over at a scenic rest stop in southern Arizona and gazed at the mountains through my tears. I felt like Bryant sat there with me, arm around my shoulder.

On a whim, before I left my house, I had grabbed my necklace that holds my Grandpa Dick's ashes. Every time I adjusted the chain or looked down and caught a glimpse of the necklace, I would delve into thoughts about his numerous solo road trips between Arizona and Nebraska. I wondered what things he thought about or what sights took his breath away. I could almost imagine his sitting there next to me as he gave me a thoughtful lesson on history or astronomy. I also imagined sharing my road trip snacks with Grandpa Jack. As I walked barefoot through the Texas sandhills, I imagined Moriah walking next to me just like our beach walks at Harlan.

Recently, I read a book called Lost Stars, that takes place in the Star Wars universe. In the book, the main character loses her twin in infancy. In accordance with her culture's traditions, she tries to live for both of them, so whenever she encounters great moments of beauty, she takes a snapshot and says the words, "Look through my eyes" as if to let that person she lost see what she sees for moment. While I took many actual photos during my trip, they can't capture everything I saw. So I started taking mental snapshots. I would stare at the sunset or city lights. I would study an incredible museum display or a magnolia tree. Then, I would take a deep breath and blink once slowly and say, "Look through my eyes." For me, all those people I lost were experiencing it with me. No matter what, I will never be alone.