By Sheri LeClair Banitt
The first goodbye was the day he died. My husband’s death took us by surprise when he passed away during a medical procedure. He was a long-time smoker, and it was discovered during a bronchoscopy that he had lung cancer. The cancer burst an artery, and the bleeding could not be stopped; he died quickly. I travelled an hour to the hospital to identify his body and say goodbye. It was traumatic and I felt robbed of the chance to really speak my love, loyalty, apologies and gratitude for all the years together.
I spent the next days, months, and year working through my grief and purging his things that I would no longer need or use. I saved some of the special clothes, his lunchbox, his work boots and jacket. I gave some things to family, donated what I could and threw out some things, like small tools, random nails and screws, bits of wood and such that he would never get around to using.
I kept his truck. It held so many memories of him and happy times. He was man who loved his truck, and he always had one. He used it to haul horses, go hunting and run dogs, drive through heavy snowfalls and move loved ones from place to place as needed. He always listened to KQ radio and had many CDs in that old truck. And of course, anywhere he was, you could find Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers; lots of them.
So many conversations were had in his truck and past pickups that he owned. We rode in Big Red from his funeral to the burial. You could not think of him without the image of him in the truck with a cap on and eating candy.
When I sold the truck today, it was the second goodbye. Another hard milestone where I felt cheated of the chance for a face-to-face discussion. But life goes on, and now someone else can love that old truck. I said goodbye to the living proof that he was here and now I will rely on the pictures in my mind and my heart.
The third goodbye will be when I sell the home we shared for 31 years. But I’m not going anywhere yet, I’m not ready to meet that milestone.