I cried a lot today. I didn’t mention it, but I cried a lot yesterday too. The quality of my grief was different today. Yesterday I just felt pure sadness. Today there was more fear mixed in. The word “untethered” kept coming to me. The farther I drove from home, the more I felt Bob’s absence, the more untethered I felt. Like I’d lost my lifeline, my safety net. The feeling stayed with me all day.

Before leaving Normal, I stopped to get the camper washed at a truck wash. It was new experience. When Bob was alive, I did a lot of eye rolling about the things he obsessed about; like getting the trailer washed. When I drove out with a sparkling clean camper. I said to Bob: “Look how beautiful she is!”

I stopped at a light just outside of the truck stop and a man came running out of his vehicle to tell me that the door of my camper was open. Shit. I had been having trouble with the lock. I got it secured, but I felt uneasy about it all day, worried that the door would fly open on the highway.

It was a beautiful driving day. Nice weather. Nice easygoing roads. I was on the road for four hours. I deliberately planned short days so that I wouldn’t be rushed. The advice my good friend Jim with before I left was “Don’t rush.” Best advice ever. Best advice I’ve been giving myself: breathe breathe breathe.

I drove into the South Marcum Campground of Rend Lake (a COE- Corp of Engineers Campground)  way far south in Illinois, in Benton. Really beautiful park. Quite a contrast from last night next to the highway. I pulled into the kiosk to check in and noticed in my side mirror that the camper door was open. Shit. 

Backing into my site was tricky. After about five tries, when I had it most of the way in, a man emerged from his rig on the site next to mine. Gentle, soft-spoken man, he asked if I needed a hand. “Can I stand back here and direct you a bit and make sure you don’t hit anything?” Yes please.

When the camper was situated, I chatted with the man, Jeff. I told him about my door. He said “Can I take a look at it and see if I can fix it?” Yes please. “Do you have tools?” Yes, but I didn’t mention how little I knew about using them. I watched him closely as he looked at the lock and then explained what was wrong. He fiddled around in my tool box, found the things he needed and it was fixed in a jiffy. Wow, amazing, relief.

His wife came along then, Julie. I told them about being on my first solo trip, and about Bob. “We are right here. If you need anything, don’t hesitate.”

It was warm, I slept with the windows open and the feeling of the sweet country air on my skin. There was an old wise tree right outside beside me. “Don’t worry” she said. 

Untethered? Nope, not at all. I slept like a baby.