We are going to be parting with a lot of things in preparation for our move and this by far might be the hardest thing I part with. This white 2003 Chevy Malibu, with way over a hundred thousand kilometers, a broken side mirror and a small burn in the upholstery is not just any car, it is my Dads car, and if I could I would keep it forever.
In January 2009 my husband hit a deer and wrote off his Jeep, my Dad said to us "use my car, I'm not using it right now, I'll get it back from you soon".
He wasn't using it because his body was ravaged by a painful cancer.
He could barely lift his hand to hold mine.
His days were spent lying in the rented hospital bed in his family room, an oxygen tank hissing by his side with my stepmother on leave from work taking care of his every need.
He wasn't using it because he was dying.
How I hoped that it was just a temporary loan and that he'd soon be asking for it back.
That he would need it to choose the sunniest day to skip work and keep driving to show up at my doorstep for a surprise visit, as he often did.
Two months later he was gone.
I don't drive his car very often, but when I do I take a moment to be with my father, I smell the faint odour of cigarette smoke mixed with his cologne, I place my hands on the steering wheel where his gentle hands rested for his many long drives to work. I lay my head back on the headrest and close my eyes and think of him.
This was his white horse and he was my knight in shining armor.
He was my best friend.
He was the smartest, kindest, funniest and most generous man I knew.
He flew for over 30 hrs in excruciating pain from a herniated disc in his back so he could walk me down the aisle at my wedding.
He supported everything I did and always told me "If you are happy, I am happy".
He was the first relative to hold my first born son.
He was everything to me.
The car, I know must go, so I'll hold on to the the other things, like how I see his mischievous smile in my eldest son every day. How I subconsciously twirl his wedding band that I wear on my right hand, paired with the wedding band of my grandmother, his mother, that he presented to me on my wedding day. I'll treasure the video I have of him teaching my eldest son to do a high five. I'll keep the image in my mind of seeing his eyes light up the first time he held my second son and I told him that his name will carry on with my son.
I'll close my eyes and replay his voice over and over again, telling me that he loves me, it will never grow faint and I can hear it right now.
This was so moving. You write beautifully.
ReplyDeleteWhich city are you moving to in Aus?
my Dad couldn't come to the hospital to visit me when i had my son, as he was recovering from a knee replacement, but there is a beautiful photo of them together when i came home.
ReplyDelete18 months later my son attended his first funeral, my Dad, who had been diagnosed with inoperable colon cancer and lasted barely a year. my placid, take anywhere son started screaming the second we brought him into the chapel, and didn't stop until my MIL took him out for me.
shortly afterwards, Mum decided to sell their holiday house we had spent every Easter in for 20 years, and i still remember walking from room to room 'looking' for Dad … i will always remember the way he invariably stepped on my foot when he gave me a hug: it makes me laugh, it makes me cry.
xb