If someone would have told me 20 years ago that I'd be flying to Tucson to meet up with my sister and attend my stepdaughter's wedding after my husband's death, I'd have asked what they were smoking. But that's exactly what I did. Honestly, I had been dreading the trip, because I knew just how hard it would be without John. But I couldn't have missed it. I asked my sister to fly in, both for moral support, and for a mini vacation for the two of us. I wouldn't have made it through the weekend without her. Thursday's travel was a complete cluster fuck from the start. But, since John died three months ago, almost nothing has been easy or gone off without some sort of colossal hitch. So, as I walked through the airport cussing under my breath, I figured it was just par for my current course. After hours of delays, I finally arrived in Tucson at midnight, a mere eight hours late. As I got dressed for the Saturday evening wedding and did the last-minute wrapp