In my inaugural post here on Road Widows, I would like to speak into the lives of all the newbies out there.  It’s a little tid-bit of knowledge I’ve gained over the past couple of years of being a road widow.  I don’t know Chris or Nise very well yet and I don’t know how long their husbands have been traveling musicians.  My husband, Dan, has only been touring for about 2 years now.  It started rather abruptly.  We were out one night with some friends and in walks a familiar but forgotten face.  This old friend of Dan’s sits down with us and proceeds to tell us about his stint in the “music biz” that had fizzled out and that he’s working on a new project.  One thing leads to another and these old friends become bandmates.  They pick up a drummer, go on a few tours that were very well received, and several months later they’re quitting their steady, full-time jobs to pursue better things:  bigger, longer tours and, subsequently, more money.

This all happened within about a 6 month time span.  Up until this point Dan and I were leading an ordinary life.  We were still our fun and free-spirited selves, just a busier, more ordinary, more stressed-out version.  This sudden career change happened during one of the most dark and depressing times in my life.  My parents were splitting up and, to save money from this huge financial shift, we had rented our home that we’d loved and cared for to move into a tiny little basement apartment in a new part of town.  His first tour was 5 weeks long.  In the midst of a major personal crisis my rock, my sweetheart, my best friend, was leaving me.  My support system was now a part of my pain.  I stayed close with very few friends and I started to find myself ignoring my close friends and hanging out with people who knew very little of my personal life.  I was escaping the reality that I wasn’t happy with my life.  When I was home alone with my thoughts and fears, I thought to myself, “How could Dan leave me in a time like this?”  “Doesn’t he love me?”  “He’s off gallivanting across the country, living his dream, while I’m here hurting.  It’s not fair!” – I was so miserable.  During this time if someone had asked me to write about being a tour-wife (a.k.a. Road Widow) I would have punched them in the throat.  I hated it.

[Bear with me, there's a light at the end of this tunnel - there always is...]

We’ve reached a turning point in our tour-coping-skills. He wasn’t telling me when he missed me or when the road got tough and he was lonely.   He thought he was doing me a favor by “being strong” and protecting me from negativity.  It took us almost two years to figure this out. He’s hurting just as much as I am and it’s not helping either of us that he wont express it.  Hearing him say, “I miss you so much” makes my heart happy.  It’s actually a relief to know that he’s not out having the time of his life.  I know that he loves his job.  He is the happiest he’s ever been, but it’s still work.  He’s driving lots of miles, occasionally sleeping in the van or at strangers homes or lonely hotel rooms, and he misses me.  I feel it now.  I can recognize it by his contentment when he’s home.  I catch him watching me from across the room, telling me how much he missed me while he was gone, hugging, kissing, cuddling, taking me out on fabulous dates – I know he loves me.

Road widows, communication is key.  Honest communication is the foundation of making your relationship work. If he’s on the road and you’re not telling each other how you really feel, you’re going to fall apart like I almost did.  It was a huge turning point for us when Dan finally admitted that he misses me, too.  Before that, I thought that he truly was happier out on the road and that idea -no matter how true or false it may be for you – is crushing to any woman’s spirit.

I’m sure your husband misses you just as much as you miss him.  Go ahead, ask him!