Last week I sold my beloved yellow roadster. I didn't need two cars; no one does. But the thing is, I really didn't want to give it up, either, for purely sentimental reasons. I suppose selling the car falls under the general heading of "moving on."On the surface, moving on sounds adventurous — opening new doors, trying new things, traveling and so much more. The down side is that, before we can move on, we have to let go. And that is the tricky part, because letting go is seldom easy and often distinctly "unfun." Why? Because what we are letting go are the possessions tied to fond memories. Do I really think the memory will not survive without the item attached to it? This is not rational, but there is not much rational about the process of grief and growth.
It was my husband, K., who was the car person. A few months after we married, and with money from the sale of his house burning a hole in his pocket, he decided that I should have this beautiful yellow BMW roadster. It was an extraordinary and generous gift. I loved that car, as much as you could love an inanimate object. The yellow roadster and I had nine years of "topless" fun together. Never before had I owned such a car, and surely never will again.
Letting go of the car itself — not so very hard. But letting go of the dream we had for our lives together, along with the joy with which the little yellow car was given and received — pretty darn difficult. And yet now that it is gone, is it possible that I feel a little more free to move ahead? Well... yes. Aha!
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