I had to see his truck. I was scared to. So I asked my brother to go with me. Andrew asked no questions. Gave no funny looks. No judgement. God love him.
To the auto body shop we went where the sheriff told me it was a day or so ago. We were met by an employee who didn’t seem to know what truck we were talking about. He got his boss. He knew. He may have said “Sorry for your loss”. I don’t remember. I just remember his energy was soft and kind. He told us “the truck was in a different place as it was part of an investigation now,”so he transported it somewhere safe. I was glad he took care of the vehicle Scott took his last breath in.
So there it was. The truck I was mostly the passenger in. Filled with my life with him. It was both comfortingly familiar and the scary machine that I don’t know, that may have been filled with blood. I don’t know what a suicide site is suppose to look like. Feel like.
As we neared it, Andrew close by–I think I asked Andrew to look first, God love him, through the drivers side. I know I could not. Sheepishly I looked through the passengers side window. It was fine. It was my side. The way it always looked. Slowly, carefully I allow my eyes to look further to the center. All a friendly, familiar friend. Then his side.
There was some blood, but not unbearable. Just the opposite. I felt close to Scott. It’s okay my sweet dear. I am not mad at you. I love you. I’m here. It’s all okay. It’s out in the world that is loud and unbearable.
Here is quiet and peaceful. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. Though its February, it’s warm enough to be outside with a light coat. Andrews guarding the world from barging in. Keeping peace for us. God love him, because I may stay here forever.
I know I can’t and won’t. But I also know I can stay here as long as I need to, because that nice man who owns the auto body shop and Andrew are allowing us this time for as long as it takes.
It’s getting close to 6 years since you’ve been gone and it’s only now I’m okay with sharing this vignette of us. I only told a few close friends because for one, it felt like an intimate moment. And two, it may sound disgusting or morbid or weird that I needed to be close to his truck.
Now a safe space of five years and a bunch of months, I can see it’s perfectly normal and natural and reasonable to want to be near where someone I love left this earth. And I want to share my story. As a sort of lantern for those who are or will be experiencing an unbearable death of a loved one.
I want you to know I came out the other end of the abyss. And you will too. With more love. More compassion. More appreciation for life.