You might have to put on a miner’s helmet for this one and turn on the lamp, but if you keep digging, you might just strike gold at the bottom of it.
I love serendipity, even though I’ve never been exactly sure of what it is. It seems like it’s the Universe just having a bit of fun and maybe also reminding us that we are not so much in control of the events of our lives as we think we are.
Several years ago, our aged aunt found her independence on the decline and moved into a seniors’ residence and eventually, a long-term care home. Her husband Bill was gone but he left her with a car he had bought for her in 1997, a vehicle she no longer needed given her new circumstances. She had always been a very generous person and so she canvassed her very large family to see if anyone would like her Pontiac Sunfire. The only takers were my family and she offered it to us for free.
Not only that, she paid $1,000 to have it well-prepared for us mechanically when we came to get it. We had to put a purchase price on the change-of-ownership papers. We entered the figure of one dollar.
The years went by and the car served us well. But in the interim, we acquired newer, better cars and it was used less and less. This winter, we put it up for sale and a buyer was found. But it didn’t work out and I was secretly glad to make the decision to keep it a while longer.
After a lengthy period of ill health, Aunt Barb fell into a coma two weeks ago and passed away peacefully with her family by her side a few days later. She was 93.
Eight days later, time needed for everyone to return home from far-flung locales to be with her, a funeral was held in a city down the road from where we live. My wife and daughter left for the church in the morning in our Chrysler Sebring and my son and I would drive there at noon in his sleek Honda Accord. Except that the brand new, expensive battery he had just installed had died somehow overnight and his car wouldn’t start.
There was no time to get it going. Our only option was to take the Pontiac Sunfire, even though our mechanic had advised us to not drive it out of town anymore. It was, after all, 23 years old and we had stopped putting money into it.
So, dressed up in our finest suits, my son and I climbed into the old car and headed for the city. We chuckled at the irony that we had ended up driving our aunt’s car to her funeral.
The celebration of her life over, we walked with relatives to the parking lot where two young nieces were delighted to see the Sunfire. Their great aunt had let them use it for the driver’s exams that would give them their licences.
Our son asked if he could take the Sebring to a party he wanted to go to out in the country and we agreed to that, thinking it was safer. So he left in the Chrysler and my wife and daughter and I rode home in the Pontiac.
There had been no plan to use our aunt’s car to drive to our aunt’s farewell and home again and yet, by the time we shut off the engine in our driveway Saturday night, all four members of our family had done just that.
Our aunt’s loving nature had supplied us with a car for free when we needed it. And as it turned out, we needed it to get to the church to say goodbye to her.
Sheer coincidence, you say.
I am not so convinced. I prefer to think that her love didn’t end with her final breath. And I am pretty sure now that it never will.
When she was alive, our aunt gave a lot more than a car to everyone she knew. And those gifts we will continue to share as our lives go by because her nature is now part of ours.
Forever and ever.
Amen.
P.S. Another reason for our fondness for the car: The Pontiac is 23 years old. Our son is also 23, at least for a few more days. Our daughter turns 23 later this year.
©2020 Jim Hagarty
