Motivation logo

Vanlife

And Being at Peace with Death

By Grace LybargerPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
Like

Another day on the job. Paul was sitting in his usual spot sipping on some “mountain mud” as he calls it, black coffee made way too strong for human consumption. He looked the same as the first day we met, gray and wrinkly. Routinely writing in the little black notebook he never let me look at.

“Morning, Paul, have you taken your skittles yet?” Skittles being what I liked to call his various prescription drugs.

He cleared his throat to mumble out the words, “I don’t see the point, Stretch. I’ll be here till I’m not with or without the damn things.”

“Oh, stop making more trouble for yourself, I’ll go get some water.”

“Uhhjgk.” He continued scribbling down whatever nonsense I’m sure was running through his head.

I set him up with his pills and continued on with my work. We were fixing up an old mercedes van. It had been with Paul through most of his life of living on the road. He always talked about how much his grandson was going to love it if he could get it running again. He needed help and I needed a place to stay.

It’s been a few years of saving money for parts, working in 90 degree heat, taking care of the old bastard, but now there’s just a few more adjustments and it would drive like new. I walked over to the shed to retrieve some tools and started to set up the work space then I looked over at Paul still sitting in his sanctuary, “Alrighty, old man, what next?”

“Next, you need to polish my shoes, go to the store, replace the garbage disposal, and then maybe find some people your own age to hang around, dingus.” He chuckled at himself so much he almost fell out of the chair.

“You know, I’m almost certain you’d be happier in a nursing home, maybe we could make you some friends your own age!”

He coughed a lot probably due to laughing so hard, “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you.”

I scoffed and polished up the van for a while, and Paul went back to writing whatever he does in that journal of his. The whole process of working on the van had been so meditative I found it hard to believe it would be gone soon. One day I hope to have something like this to travel and live out of, so the practice with the parts is going to come in handy. One of the many things Paul had taught me over the years was that as long as you are giving and generous, the world will give you everything you need to survive.

I was excited to finally be able to meet this grandson I’ve heard so much about. It seemed, from what Paul has said, that we would have a lot in common.

The next day, I meandered towards the garage to force Paul’s medication down his throat, my lovely daily routine. Upon arriving I could feel something was off. Paul was in his chair, but no coffee. His eyes were glassy and he was hunching over as I got closer. The leathery, old journal was laying on the ground.

“Paul, how are we feeling today?”

No response. He looked up at me with a strange but calming look on his face, “Stretch, I have to talk to you about something.”

“Anything. What is it?” I’d been preparing myself for his last day on our planet, I knew it was coming. He knew it was coming too and was strangely calm about it.

“As I’ve told you…” He struggled to find the words, he was clearly in a lot of pain. “My grandson will be picking the van up soon.” He paused for a minute and reached for some water. “I can’t thank you enough for all the work you’ve done. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn't found you passed out in that alley.”

“Well I’m sure I’ve given you more trouble than not over the years.” I didn’t know what to say to someone who is clearly near to death. Paul was always blunt about his health. He had come to terms with it years ago and didn’t seem worried about death in the slightest.

“You are trouble, but you are on the right path. I’m happy to have shared my knowledge with you before I pass on, but there’s one truth I have yet to share.”

“Alright, let’s hear this last nugget of wisdom then.”

“I’ve seen you grow up so much in the last few years. You still have a long way to go, but you know how to listen and that will get you far. And you will probably need some wheels to get you even farther.”

I could see where he was going with this and I stopped him, “Paul, you’ve done more than enough for me, doesn’t your grandson need this too?”

“I don’t have a grandson actually. I thought you might take this for granted had I told you that you were building it for yourself. But you’ve put all you had into this van, you deserve it more than anyone.”

“I’m at a loss for words, Paul.” I couldn’t believe he lied to me about this grandson for so long. I can see why, though, there’s no way I would’ve looked at the project in the same respect had I known the truth. I was an inconsiderate fool back then.

“We both know today’s the day, Stretch.” He looked more pale than ever. He started shaking, “You know how to work on the van now, it’s your baby. But you are going to need money for furniture and for gas. That’s why I’m going to give you all that I have left and I don’t want to hear that ‘I’ve done too much’ or ‘you don’t need my charity’ because I don’t have the time. You are the only family I have left and I want you to have it.”

Tears started to roll down my cheeks, “Paul, I-”

“Oh stop it with the niceties. You are still completely unprepared for the journey that lies before you. And there are a few places I think any young adult should see in America. That’s why I’m giving you this journal to guide you on your travels. Here is every note worthy place I’ve seen in this van and the lessons I learned with it. She’s been craving to get back out there, Stretch, and it’s your turn to take her.”

He had been rushing to get all the words out, he was very out of breath afterwards. I helped him struggle out of the chair and we hobbled down to the river, where he had said before was going to be his last sight of Earth.

Still shaking he turned to me, “Look down the river. Now look up. Look straight. Each direction the current is flowing, it sends leaves and sticks all over the place. But they all end up laying on a bank somewhere, right?”

“Sure sure.”

“We are the leaves and sticks, Stretch. There is a joyful simplicity in understanding that we all end up in the same place. It’s not a bad thing. It gives you the freedom to enjoy the now.”

It didn’t take long before he collapsed on the ground. I held him while he took his last breaths, but he looked at peace. I wasn’t sad. I knew it was meant to happen exactly like that.

And so, with $20,000 in my pocket and a house on wheels, I set off to explore anything and everything that presented itself to me. Paul saved my life and gave me everything I needed to continue and grow. I’ll never forget him and all of his stories about freedom and love.

happiness
Like

About the Creator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.