It’s crazy to think that something like a vehicle can be intimately tied to a person – it’s just a vehicle – an assemblage of pieces parts that you move yourself around town with. Gary bought this truck 11 years ago, the only vehicle I watched him choose for himself during our 22 years together. He loved that truck. He brought home both our puppies in that truck. Drove it to work, and on vacations, and to go pick up the things his parents left him when they passed away.

I always walked him out to the truck and kissed him goodbye before he drove off to work – and the feeling of joy that Tamaya, Koya’ana, and I would feel when the garage would open at the end of the day and he pulled the truck back in was so exuberant we would all wiggle our butts and go out to greet him. Every day.

Today I let it go, sold it, and watched it drive away for the last time, knowing the garage door will never open again – knowing Gary will never drive back in – knowing that joy is a lifetime ago now, just an empty space on one side of the garage.