The purpose of my recent trip to Florida was a somber one: to attend my cousin’s funeral. She was tragically killed in a hit-and-run, and emotions were already running high before we even hit the road. It was supposed to be a 2.5-day drive, and part of me wanted to turn it into a road trip. But life had other plans. We left Wisconsin during a winter storm and drove through snow-covered roads all the way to Atlanta.

Midway through Georgia, things became even harder. I came across a video my cousin had posted, showing her body being dropped off at the Southwest Airlines air cargo area. That’s when it truly hit me…this was real. I wanted to turn back and go home, but I’d already come too far to stop. The drive became a heavy mix of emotions: grief, nostalgia, and longing for a time when things were simpler…when the people I loved were still around.

Distance not only gives nostalgia, but perspective, and maybe objectivity.
– Robert Morgan

The Route That Took Me Back

Somewhere along the way, the sadness gave way to memories. Driving through Kentucky brought me back to 1996, when we took a family trip to visit my uncle stationed at Fort Knox. Back then, we lived in Texas, and the trip was full of adventure: visiting Mammoth Cave, seeing Lincoln’s boyhood home, and even making a day trip to Chicago. I’ll never forget Dad having all of us touch the brick wall at Wrigley Field while my uncle filmed us and Dad joking that he wanted people to see that we had really been there.

There were other moments too, like visiting Jordan’s statue at the United Center or the memorable Christmas road trip to Florida from KY when I got motion sickness…bad. I must’ve thrown up a gallon from Fort Knox to Tampa Bay. After that, Mom kept a “barf bucket” under the seat for me on every trip. Thinking about those moments made me laugh. These days, I keep Dramamine and Imodium on hand, just in case.

A Stop Full of Memories

By the time we reached Wildwood, Florida, I needed a break. We stopped at the TA truck stop, a place that had been a constant on every trip to Tampa for as long as I can remember. Back in the day, we’d stop there for lunch, snacks, and gift shop raids. Across the street was a Pilot station with a Dairy Queen, but ice cream wasn’t on my mind this time. The TA hadn’t changed much—the Popeyes we used to grab lunch at was still there. I felt a rush of nostalgia just walking through it.

As I came out of the bathroom, I passed a display of Beanie Babies. Without thinking, I picked one up and bought it; a little puppy that instantly became my travel buddy. When the cashier laughed about how many drivers buy them, I told him I used to collect them as a kid. Grandma had helped me start my collection in the ’90s, and I still have them packed away in storage. Seeing that little Beanie Baby brought back memories of both her and my cousin.

Comfort in the Small Things

My little puppy Beanie Baby became my companion for the rest of the trip. I sat it on the console next to me, and it brought me a sense of comfort during the hardest moments. When my anxiety spiked, I’d grab it to calm myself. I even slept with it in the hotel. I thought about bringing it to the service, but I worried it might seem strange.

In a way, that tiny stuffed animal symbolized more than just a road trip purchase. It connected me to my grandma and cousin, both of whom were gone but still present in my heart. It reminded me of the simpler times when road trips meant excitement and adventure instead of loss and grief.

Reflections on Nostalgia and Grief

That drive to Florida was so much more than just a journey; it was a bridge between past and present. It reminded me of the importance of small joys, even in moments of deep sorrow. Nostalgia has a way of grounding us, helping us navigate the hardest times by reminding us of who we are and where we come from.

Looking back, I’m grateful for that stop at the TA in Wildwood. It wasn’t just a place to stretch my legs or grab a snack; it was a time capsule, full of memories that reminded me I’m never truly alone. Whether it’s the love of family, the comfort of a Beanie Baby, or the strength to keep going, there’s always something to hold onto…even when the road ahead feels impossible.