Let me tell you a little secret: sometimes, the person who helps you hold it all together isn’t showing up with a fix or a plan. They’re riding shotgun on a very loosely planned road trip, laughing with you while you drive 20 miles back because every coastal hotel was booked solid. They’re next to you, ordering something off the limited menu at the only restaurant still open. They’re someone who’s been part of your story for decades—and you, theirs.
Nothing Fancy. Just Real.
I took a trip to Oregon with a dear friend. Nothing fancy. No formal itinerary. Just two women, an open road, and the idea that we’d find a hotel when we found the “perfect spot.” We didn’t. Not right away, anyway. But we found other things instead—things that stay with you long after the bags are unpacked.
We stood in awe before waterfalls, pulled ourselves up stacked boulder trails by a single rope, explored misty caverns along the coast, and marveled at a beautiful black bear in the wild. We met characters in passing—strangers who left an imprint—and shared belly laughs we didn’t know we needed. That trip reminded me: the best kind of medicine often comes in the form of friendship and fresh air.
Travel With Someone Who Sees You
There’s something deeply healing about stepping into wild spaces with someone who knows your soul. She didn’t need me to have the right words. I didn’t need her to have a plan. We just needed the road, the cliffs, the trails, and the sacred permission to just be.
This wasn’t a curated “healing experience.” But in a very real way, it was exactly that.
Because grief isn’t straightforward, and neither is friendship. Some days, we’re strong. Other days, we lean. But the beauty is in having someone to lean on. Someone who sees the tired behind your smile and doesn’t flinch. Someone who doesn’t need to fix your pain to hold it with you.
When Your Souls Know Each Other
She’s part of my story. I’m part of hers. And together, we’ve held each other up for years.
So if you’re reading this and you’ve been trying to do it all alone, let this be your gentle reminder: You weren’t meant to carry it all. Not always. Not forever. There is power in presence. And there’s beauty in letting someone walk the road beside you.
You don’t have to plan every detail. Just say yes to the road. To the shift. To the sacred space where love and grief, laughter and longing, coexist.
And when someone offers to ride shotgun? Say yes.
Always say yes to making new memories.
With all my love,
Dena 🤍