Can I ever go camping again? I love to camp. That is, I loved to camp. Before. Now, I don’t know if I still love to camp. I always went with Alan, and part of what made camping fun was to be with him. I don’t know if I still love to camp. For now, I know it will just be too hard, so I am selling our camper.
I had to open the camper and get it ready to sell this weekend. It was the first time I had been in there since Alan died in it. After I followed the ambulance to the hospital that fateful night, I never went back to the campsite. Family came up and packed up the camper in the middle of the night and I never went back. And until yesterday, I never went in that camper again. As I was taking out our sleeping bags and other camping equipment yesterday, I ran across stuff the EMS left behind, a perfectly preserved leaf that had been stuck in the fold out, and the tums that Alan took and made him feel better so he didn’t go to the hospital to get his chest pains checked out. I hated that roll of Tums. I took a picture of it, but then I threw the offending Tums away. Some unwashed dishes were also there, and a few random things like gloves and chapstick. It was like I was transported back to that day – the day my happiness ended.
I’m going to miss that camper someday. It has the story of our travels pasted to the back in stickers. I have that final sticker, found yesterday in my unpacking, of the unfinished trip we took. The one Alan never returned from. I’m not sure what to do with that sticker. I’ll keep it for now and tuck it away, and hope that someday I’ll know what to do with it.