It was more than a Car

It was No Just a Car. It was a red, grand am. I remember when we bought it; Sam was just a little guy, and we picked it out because it was 'so nice'. I remember Gordon handing me the keys and telling me it could be 'my' car. It was comfortable and nice and new and it felt good to drive it. When Gordon graduated from college, I got him a license plate holder that identified him as such. He was proud to put that on the car.

But, the car was also the place that Gordon felt some of his worst feelings, and actually attempted to hurt himself more than once in that car. I remember waiting to hear that car pull into the driveway; hearing that sound always calmed me down. It meant that Gordon was SAFE and with me and the kids. When things were particularly bad, I'd hide the keys to that car from him, because I was fearful he was going to hurt himself. And, when he had to drive, and I was fearful for him, I'd tape pictures of the kids to the dashboard, with notes like, 'We love you, you mean everything to us'. Anything to convince him that living in this life was better than not living at all.

The night he died, he was driving our other car. That made things a bit more complicated for me. That meant that his death, his last breaths were taken in the other car, so I would have to be reminded daily of that. For months, I left the car parked in the driveway, then, even moved it into the garage. It became a car that was borrowed by friend or family in a pinch. Then, Sam became old enough to drive. It made sense, there was a car, I can't drive two and Sam needed a car. So, I handed over the keys.

I handed over the keys, and things immediately began to stop working. For several months, I was writing out checks to repair places, for this and that. The car was a constant money pit for me. We found a mechanic that seemed honest and reasonable and he did what he could. Sam loved this car. But, then, for the last time, it died. The thought had crossed my mind many times. What would happen if I had to part with that car? How would I manage it? But, when I received the call from the mechanic that it had 'thrown a rod' well, it was a big relief. No more suffering. No more reminders of constant struggle.

We traded the car in, and got a little Saturn instead. It is the color of the sun. It is small, basic, and ours. It is not a memory, it's just transportation. I pray that the car wll be parted out. It was more than a car; it was a way of life we don't have to live any longer.