Sunday, August 27, 2023

LOSING A FAMILY MEMBER. ADOPTING A FAMILY MEMBER

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We lost a family member today.

 

Our tried and true decade old Nissan Altima went “the way of all flesh.” Well, that last word may be a misnomer. As I was driving our fire engine red four door sedan this past Friday, it “decided” to do something singularly uncharacteristic. The engine sputtered several times over the course of a couple of miles, and suddenly died right there in front of God and everyone. Of course, I called Triple A, and had “Old Betsy” towed to the dealer for mechanical analysis. And as we were to discover, the radiator had sustained a significant crack in its frame; leading to the imminent destruction of other crucial systems. Since we had recently invested a significant sum in the old car, it was now a foregone conclusion that the expense of repairing our family member was unthinkable. It was time to let go, and let God.

 

Human beings tend to personalize their vehicles, give them names, and use the pronouns “she” and “her” when speaking of these inanimate objects; not unlike the courtesies extended towards our pets. And with time it is not unusual to think of one’s sedan, or van or SUV as a member of the family.

 

Funny, when our daughter dropped us off at the car dealer today, and I noticed our old Altima parked just outside the shop walls, a twinge of guilt ran through me, as if somehow we were disconnecting the old girl’s life support, and allowing her to go on to her reward. (Whether by salvage or auction, I know not).

 

Today was the day to say “goodbye” to an aged grandmother, and today was the day to say “hello” to her replacement; in essence, a proverbial new bride, as young and beautiful as ever the former laid claim.

 

And we took time to clean out what remained of those sundry items, such as folding chairs and paperback novels and extra sunglasses, so as to leave nothing of ourselves behind. And in so doing, it was almost as if we were severing the final vestiges of what had once been such a visceral connection.

 

And as I knew I must do, I left her empty and undone, yet not without a parting word. For it was then that I laid my hand on the dashboard, and spoke a few emotion-clad words; not unlike touching the bier of a friend, and offering up a heartfelt eulogy.

 

“Old Girl, you were a dependable friend. While it’s time to let you go, we will never forget you. Rest in Peace, dear Betsy.”

 

And in response to my sincerest farewell, only abject silence, and a sense that her soul had departed;

 

… leaving little more intact than rusting metal, and fading leather.

by William McDonald, PhD

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