The Road Home (and What I’m Really Carrying)

I’m writing this just before I head north—driving from SW Florida to Upstate New York. It’s a trip I’ve taken before, but this time, it’s different.

This time, I’m making space for quiet moments. For memory. For presence.

I’ll be seeing my handsome son, my beautiful daughter-in-law, and my granddaughter—the one who carries my middle name, a piece of me I never expected to live on in that way. It’s all so meaningful. So tender.

I’ll also be picking up the last of Cameron’s things—items I’ve not been able to gather, both logistically and (I’m certain), mentally. And now, I am. Maybe not fully. But enough to trust myself. To make the drive. To hold what comes.

I do have moments of doubt ~ of all these events I have to remind myself that I absolutely can do this on my own. I’ve already done things just as hard, if not harder. I’ve driven long hours under heavier emotional weight, multiple times. I’ve navigated hospitals, grief, change—and I’m still here (I still can’t believe I’m here). My car is reliable, my instincts are grounded, and my love for my family is driving this entire journey. That’s powerful fuel.

Daily reminders.

I’m not just traveling—I suppose I’m reclaiming space. This is my first show. My time with my youngest son, with his wife. My moment with my precious granddaughter; maybe when older, she’ll gain more thru my story that strength and softness can live in the same woman. I get to be free, mobile, rooted in my own plan.

Those thoughts now surround me. They reminded me that this isn’t just a trip—it’s a soul journey. A way back to myself, and forward to something new.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve been carrying something tender, something unspoken or delayed—maybe this is your sign. To go. To trust your timing. To know you can hold both grief and joy, loss and legacy, at the same time.

Thank you for being here. For walking beside me, even just in spirit.

More soon—from the road.

With love,

Mary Rose