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Week 131: She Comes With Me

Some things get left behind when you travel. A sweater. A charger. The thing you swore you packed but didn’t.

But some things come with you—no matter where you go.

Like grief.

I’m in Japan this week. A dream trip. One I’ve longed for and planned for, with equal parts excitement and hesitation. Because that’s the thing about traveling after loss: the suitcase isn’t the only thing that feels heavy.

Grief packs itself neatly into the quiet moments between movement. It rides the train with you. It sits beside you on the plane. It walks with you down foreign streets. And it shows up in places you never expected—temples, cherry blossoms, vending machines.

This time, I’m bringing something intentional: my travel ring. The one I wear in her honor when I go somewhere new. It’s a small thing. But it’s a tether. A symbol. A way of saying, “You’re still part of this.”

Because even now, she’s with me. Not in the way I want—but in the way that’s possible.

Grief doesn’t stay home.

It travels.

But so does love.

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