A Bitter Closure

Yesterday, in a “cutting the Gordian Knot” gesture, my ex called for our past family car to be towed away.

The complicated tangle of paperwork, fees, loopholes, and legalities required to get it fixed and running again on the street were just something neither of us had the time nor money to invest toward its recovery.

Instinct calls me to respond to save it. It has been a good vehicle with 5-speed high-response driving and an excellent stereo system.

Our Matriarch had helped set it up for us to where I managed the payments, and it was our family’s main car providing comfort, fun, and safety while we raised our children.

I know that it must be best to let it go because it is time to release “old baggage” and no longer be tied to outdated associations.

But it is like loosing a beloved family member – and not doing anything further to prevent this from happening causes my gut to churn into panic.

When my ex had his accident, his bike met its end in a similar way: impounded, forgotten about, and left for someone else to salvage or to be thrown away.

Tears of anguished sense of injustice well up, stopped and stuck in my throat, at the thought of our family vehicle – like our once family’s legacy – ending up the same way.

My body quivers from suppressed rage at the reminder that love’s once valiant efforts can so easily become rendered to nothing more than a pile of forgotten, rusting dust.