A week ago Friday, H and I picked up our campervan outside of Leipzig, Germany and got on the road. We’re living in the van for the next 8 weeks and the plan was to find a camping spot near Dresden. Everything was full. We called 10 places, and visited a few more. People were shocked that we didn’t have a reservation, it turns out we were hitting Germany on a holiday weekend and idiots.
After googling “can you camp anywhere in Germany” we found ourselves at a rest stop. Because yes, you can sleep at rest stops in Germany. You can’t “camp” though. Yes, the two things are different. (Apparently!) You can’t set all your stuff up, but you can pull over to sleep.
We’d pulled over at 9pm, tired from many failed attempts to find proper camping, hungry and grumpy. H tried to wrestle with our camping stove while struggling through a headache, when my mom called to say my uncle had died.
You can read all about his life here.
I liked reading this because I realized how much I didn’t know about him.
To our family Rich was the best member. And that’s not to stay we’re bad people, but he was better than us. And we all agree on this. He was our family therapist, party planner, and cheerleader all rolled into one. As my cousin Anne said, “he was our glue”.
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When my parents were on their world trip my grandfather died. My parents called home every Sunday and one Sunday, when they called from the back of a pub in Ireland, my mom found out that her dad had died the previous Tuesday and he’d already been buried.
My mom left the pub and found a Catholic Church to sit in and breathe in while my dad waited outside.
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When I got off the phone I opened a bottle of wine, texted my sister, and talked to my cousin. 40 years later grief is different.
I feel far away and yet I’m in communication.
The last few days have been spent exploring Europe and toasting to Rich at every opportunity.
Love you Rich.
(Thanks Patrick for encouraging me to grab a beer and write something.)
