The summer of 2020 was a weird and unsettling time. We were early in the pandemic and there was just a heavy feeling all around. Mario’s health was really tanking, yet he was still not acknowledging it. We’d gone on a short camping trip about 50 miles to the east. I remember we had a super heavy conversation that afternoon and then the next day we stopped at our massage therapist’s place, which was like a peaceful retreat.

The whole time we were at the campground and the whole time were were at the massage therapist’s place, I felt a deep sense of sadness…of time slipping away and a sense that it was very important that I soak it all in and just be, “in the moment”. I think it was only a couple weeks after that, a devastating wildfire came through and destroyed the majority of our friend’s beautiful home, yurt and property as well as a chunk of the campground and pretty much all of the hike to the waterfall that’s adjacent to the campground.

And I knew that wasn’t IT. That wasn’t the whole reason for my incredible feeling of sadness. I tried to set that aside and make the most of that summer by booking a couple other camping trips into August and mid September. We went on the other short one in August, but by early September, things had changed. Mario’s liver was giving out and one of the symptoms of that is that massive fluid retention in the abdomen and legs. Mario had gained 80 pounds in fluid that his body was no longer able to process. The full source of my sadness was revealed. I felt like my world had turned into a wildfire burning out of control and taking the life I’d known with it.

This is when he could no longer ignore that the damage was done. The rest is now sad history.

That is the past.

In the present, I’m going through a different stressful period in my life. Watching my mom almost buy the farm due to her own stubbornness and avoidance of addressing health issues has been a roller coaster ride. I’ve been so busy though trying to stay on top of work, my life, taking care of my mom’s cats and her house while she’s recuperating in a nursing facility, visiting her, and doing what seems like an endless to-do list of additional tasks, I honestly haven’t even had time to process everything and really sink into my emotions.

I desperately needed a break though and nature is my go-to for such things. Luckily, I’m surrounding by nature in any direction I go from where I live. I remembered that 5 years ago in that fateful summer, the September camping trip that I had booked (and consequently had to cancel because of Mario’s health going downhill fast) was at a campground a mere 23 miles away from our house. It was somewhere we’d never been but had heard good things about.

I had kind of forgotten all about it (or at least pushed it out of my mind). On a whim, I checked if I could book 1 night this past Monday. A single spot was available (it was meant to be apparently). As this outing was literally only a 24 hour affair, I opted not to take my tiny trailer. Instead, I went “old school” and brought a little 2 person tent I’d bought on a whim a year or so ago.

After Mario died, I got rid of the old tent we had. I just couldn’t keep it. It had too many memories associated with it. That’s when I decided to get an air mattress to fit my Jeep Wrangler and camp in the Jeep. It felt like a step up, but also safer since I was now by myself. So the last time I had gone camping in a tent, was that very last trip Mario and I took together.

So past and present were colliding a little bit. I finally made it to this campground, but like all trips now, it was a solo one. I did some reminiscing, but also tried to ground myself in the moment. When you only have 24 hours to decompress and recharge, you’ve got to make the most of it.