I’ve donated it to Habitat for Humanity. I still have to clean it out and I’m procrastinating like I always do but this time it’s because I feel guilty.

She loved that car. For her, it was an expression of who she is. It represented her independence of mobility of everything. I think for her it was also a representation of her “old life”.

I had considered trying to fix it up, either on my own or take it to a mechanic. It hasn’t run in at least five years. Maybe it would be more economical than my current car.

But I would be trading one car for one that was seven years older and I wouldn’t be doing it because I wanted to drive the car. Personally, I don’t like driving that car. I don’t fit well into it. It’s too low to the ground and the way the seat and the steering wheel are set up typically hurts my back. I’ve never found it comfortable to drive.

I worried that I’m not doing good service to this piece of her life, that somehow I am disrespecting who she felt she was and how she thought of herself by just “getting rid of the car.”

However, outside of writing this, I’m not going to spend a lot of time brooding. I think it’s fine to feel that way, I think the guilt and the sadness are normal. But in the end, I need to get it out of the way and maybe it can do some good somewhere else.

I would like to think that she would approve. There’s no way for me to know, and to be honest it was hard to know when she was alive. But this is the only plane of existence in which I can affect change.

And in order to move forward, I’m getting rid of the car.