39. Dancing Lessons from God

"Bizarre travel plans are dancing lessons from God." 

~Kurt Vonnegut 

I bought Jon a framed map of the world for our wedding.  I thought it was a pretty appropriate gift for a groom who loved maps more than anyone I've ever met.  He always said that when he arrived in a new place, the first thing he liked to do was open up a map and follow along to see where "little Jon" was in the grand scheme of things.  We must have owned about 30 different state and national maps, some of them duplicates - Jon always preferred to be over-prepared versus the alternative.  This map that I bought him had a little plaque affixed to the bottom of it inscribed with the words, "Jon and Jenna's Lifetime of World Travels."  The map came with little multi-colored pins that were meant for marking each of the locations we traveled to as a couple.  I guess I can mark Iraq - times two.  And Jamaica, where we went on our honeymoon.  And Korea where I visited Jon for a month over Christmas.  And the various states we flew to and drove through during our years together in the U.S.  But Spain, Italy, France, Germany, and all the other countries I was so excited to experience with him remain unmarked.  I'm kind of a wimp, to be honest, when it comes to the prospect of visiting these places by myself.  It's not that I don't think I could manage to get around and figure out a plan - I know I wouldn't have a problem with any of that stuff.  It's the museum tours and fancy restaurants and gondola rides that would get to me by myself.  I'd no doubt still enjoy every bite of the delicious food and every moment spent soaking in the richness of old-world European history.  But it will never be the same alone as it would have been with the man who could make even the most serious of statues seem wildly funny and who literally lifted up his plate to breathe in the aromas of gourmet food before taking his first bite.  He had a special appreciation for beautiful (and delicious) things in life that I am yet to see replicated in another person.  

Jon's favorite part of our wedding - eating the cake!

I could dedicate an entire entry (and then some) to Jon's love of food.  And museums are a close second.  I remember when we took my parents to the Airborne and Special Ops Museum in Fayetteville, NC.  Jon loved that place.  He took everyone who ever came to visit us in North Carolina to see it.  There is now a large paver outside the front door of the museum with his name on it; when he died, his family and I purchased and inscribed the stone in his memory.  I think - I hope - he'd like it.  Anyway, when we took my parents to this museum, it was just for a "quick" walk-through right before Jon's deployment to Iraq.  Ha, so much for quick.  Like me, my dad is a huge history buff and insisted on reading every single plaque and informational display.  Jon and I would literally walk about 50 feet ahead of my parents, turn the corner into the next room and look back expectantly to see if they were following close behind.  This hurry-him-up trick didn't work out too well.  We must have been the most thorough visitors the museum ever saw.  Another of my favorites is the time Jon and I toured the War Memorial of Korea in Yongsan-dong, South Korea.  I remember walking slowly down the long hallway inscribed with the names of Soldiers killed in action in Korea and Vietnam and being in awe of what was an incredibly moving tribute.  Jon and I were both pretty quiet as we walked down that hallway.  I never imagined how the recollection of holding his hand while surrounded by a memorial to fallen Soldiers would later come back to haunt me.

Jon's paver stone at the Airborne and Special Operations Museum

Maybe one day someone will come along who will sweep me off my feet and rekindle my desire to travel the world twice over.  That's what my family and friends hope for, anyway.  But I'm super picky, and as time goes on, the bar Jon set isn't getting any lower.  I know everyone loves a happy ending, and I'm guilty of it too - I always try to wrap up these entries on some sort of upbeat note, even when the content of the entries themselves is pretty solemn (or downright depressing) at times.  So, in attempt to look on the positive side, the truth is that I do still hope to visit all of those beautiful European countries - it just won't be the kind of magical, romantic experience I had envisioned with my husband.  But then again, that's true of my story in general - I'm still living it, but the course it's taken is vastly different from what I foresaw for our future together.  Over the past few years, I've done some really stupid things and made some major errors in judgment that could have been disastrous.  I guess you could say I got things a little backwards; I didn't do all my dumb stuff when I was young and dumb, but, rather, when I was slightly older and not so wiser.  But I think I'm finally living my life right now.  I hope so, anyway.  And if I continue down this route, maybe I'll be rewarded at some point with a little inner peace, some happiness, and maybe even the fulfillment of my wish to eat real Italian gelato and wander the streets of Barcelona at sunset, a la Eat-Pray-Love.  After all, bizarre travel plans, it's been said, are dancing lessons from God.

The quote we included on the program for Jon's funeral service  in East Hampstead, NH