I couldn’t do it.
I filled out all the information. I hit submit but didn't get the answer I expected. Instead, I received a notice that I needed to take the car in to have it looked at before I could get a cash offer. Okay, not a big deal. That sounds easy, right? No.
I went outside to start up the old Rav4, that's become a monument in the driveway these past few months, but couldn’t go through with it. Of course, it didn’t help that the car battery was dead because it's been sitting outside all winter and I haven’t started it, but still, sitting in that all to familiar seat - my mind slightly drifted to our adventures, and I began to cry. I can’t sell this car. I'm just not ready.
Instead, I am going to loan it to some friends so they can drive it as their extra car. Then it’s still around. It's not going off to some unknown car lot only to be sold to someone else or used for parts. Seriously, I just want to turn it into a playhouse or something, but that’s very silly. I know hanging on to this car doesn’t bring Josh back but maybe it lets me hold tight to some of those treasured memories a little more.
How can I be so emotionally tied to a car? I feel like this is ridiculous? 12 years of memories and over 250,000 miles of adventures, that's how. Of course, I also haven’t gotten rid of any of Josh shirts or sweaters but that is something else for another day too.
I tried processing the car change months ago when I bought my new car - before Josh passed away but the story had a hint of more joy because I could share about the new car with him. This is different - it's another piece of letting go. But I still don't want to. I want all the shirts, all the cars, all the things that remind me of Josh.
Yep - it’s the crazy side of grief I wanted to share in today’s post. I have more to share about a fun weekend with friends, ball games, the Chiefs going to the Super Bowl and how that intersects with Josh's story – but those are posts for another time.
Today - it’s another entangled web of holding on to things that, in a logical mind, are better to sell.
But grief isn't always logical - that's okay too.
Hi! It's Jenn Brown, writing my story that is now slightly different as we enter a season of new grief. On September 30, 2019, my dear husband Josh passed away after battling brain cancer.