Firstly, let me say that Future Husband hates the expression 'Tour Widow.' Probably because he takes it literally. Which is probably because I keep warning him to drive safe, not be too tired, or drunk, or let either G or D be incapacitated. Not to make me a widow before I can actually be one.

But, I mean, c'mon. How much would it suck to have your fiance die right before the wedding? You're losing your husband, but there are no legal benefits or responsibilities. So you're powerless in a time of personal crisis. Then add on to it the fact that there's some sort of social stigma. Like, "Oh, your boyfriend died 3 months ago? Why aren't you dating again?" compared to, "Oh, your husband died 3 months ago? I'm so sorry. How are you feeling?"

Still, though. I like the phrase 'Tour Widow' and I've seen other bloggers in my situation use it.

And my situation is this; there wasn't room for me in the van for their short Seattle to Austin migration. (Seriously, the Seattle music scene is a ghost town right now. Everyone's flying south by southwest for the Spring.) They're sharing a van and equipment with another band. It's a smart choice, both economically and for their career. This band is a little bit bigger and well connected, and was able to get them into some good SXSW shows.

So when the tour started last weekend, I followed them down to Oregon in my little Hyundai, named Francine. Future Husband and I stayed in cheap motels and did our best to enjoy the last few days of each others company. Unfortunately, with the work situation, the driving and the two shows, we got maybe 10 hours sleep between Wednesday and Sunday, total.

We parted ways in Central Oregon on Sunday morning. I did my best not to cry, and he kissed me tenderly, and called me 'Wife' with a wicked little smile. He climbed into the bigger van and started towards Lake Tahoe, and I got back into Francine and started back to Seattle.

When I finally arrived back at our house, I crashed for nearly 14 hours. It was lovely. Except that it made me wake up 5 hours before the start of my first job. So I decided that I should use this abundant energy to my advantage, before my brain realized just how far away Future Husband was.

I cleaned our room, picking up bits of trash that had accumulated over the last two weeks. Sorted the laundry, and got all of the dirties picked up off the floor. I even managed to decorate a little bit, putting up one of the good pictures from our Engagement Photo session in January. I drank half a pot of coffee, and wore real clothes and listened to music while I cleaned, like a normal person. (My usual cleaning routine is pajama pants and a Jane Austen movie on in the background.) After cleaning I ran to the bank, the thrift store and grabbed a quick lunch out before going to work. I was a whirlwind of productivity.


But after nannying, getting ready for my night time job, and a long, frustrating night, I was exhausted. Add to it the fact that this new night time job I have is for the same company that Future Husband works for, and that he trained me, and it's a strange emotional roller coaster. Whenever I had a question about what I should do, I couldn't just go to him and ask. I sat alone at lunch. And while I got to talk to him briefly during the break, it just wasn't quite the same. So when I got out of work at 8am, feeling tired and lonely, getting lost was the last thing I needed. I turned the wrong direction out of the parking lot in the fog, and ended up two miles away before I realized my mistake. I was able to eventually turn around and find my way back and get on the right track home, but it was insanely frustrating. And it delayed me enough that I was stuck in horrific morning rush hour traffic. What should have been a 35-40 minute drive, turned into a 90 minute one. A few minutes in, right after I had gotten on the right freeway, some silly, mopey, lovesick song started blaring out of my iPod, and it started the waterworks.

So there I sat, stuck in foggy, bumper-to-bumper traffic, thinking of the cute way Future Husband walks with his hands in his pockets and the quirky, non-sequitur things he'll say to make me laugh. Even though it wasn't the longest we had gone without seeing each other since we've lived together (which was 3.5 days in July, when I flew down to AZ for a wedding), I knew that it was going to be a lot longer. So I felt the full brunt of missing him, because I was too tired to think rationally and stave it off.


The rest of the week has alternately flown by or dragged on. Every moment he's away feels supernaturally elongated, but sitting here on Saturday, looking back at it, it's like it was over in a flash. I've had similar ups and downs emotionally, but have done my best to let my brain hold the reigns over my heart.

We'll see how the next two weeks feel.