The Sting

After a whirl wind few days in limbo the fate of Trash Wanda 7 has been decided. My beloved little coupe is headed to the auction block. We might bid on it, we might not. I’d love to have it, but I’m also not going to jump through a million hoops nor waste money and time to get it.

Once I heard from the sheriffs department, I addressed the other lingering emotional baggage attached to the car: my ex and his belongings. I know there’s nothing left of value that he could even remotely want, but I also know how much of a giant asshole he can be when he wants to be so I wanted to cross my t’s and dot all of my i’s. I was not about to get a phone call two weeks from now asking about his trash, and/or accusing me of taking or keeping something.

I had two choices: set up a supervised meeting, or give him free reign to take what if anything he might want from the car. I chose the latter, which was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I know logically speaking that even a supervised meeting would turn into a disaster. There has been too much animosity and violence between us over the years. We do not need to be anywhere within a hundred miles of one another.

But my heart broke turning down the opportunity to close this crazy ass chapter from our past together. I wish beyond all rational hope that we could be civil, but we can’t. We never could even though we tried. I’ve long since accepted that fact, but the grief still stings.

At least it’s all over and done with now. No more secrets or surprises or open ended might come back at random moments just to flip life upside down things. No more “I wonder what happened to…” or “I wish I knew what happened.” It’s all just memories now, and those will fade as life goes on.