When my dad died I bought his truck. An extended cab Toyota, silver. Four wheel drive. Nice little truck. He had it for quite awhile and had taken good care of it.
I wanted the truck. Not because of the truck. Because of dad.
Dad always loved his vehicles. I have pictures of dad with most of his trucks over the years.
But this was his last truck.
We drove that truck for years. Both my husband and myself loved the truck. For different reasons.
Every time I slid into that truck it was as if dad had just slid out and let me in behind the wheel. Up until the last time I drove that truck, I could smell my father’s presence. His aftershave, soap, shampoo, car smell stayed with that truck forever. Dad never went to town without being fresh out of the shower, freshly shaved and groomed.
I could close my eyes, and I just knew, he had been there right before me.
That truck was a time capsule of Eau de Cologne Papa.
I kept a picture of dad on the speedometer. It stayed there until I no longer drove that truck. It was a picture of him and one of his older trucks. And I had some of his music tapes and cd’s. I would drive to and from work, alone with my dad’s music, my dad’s memories, and his cologne.
That truck was a great little truck. It took me on many, many drives with my father after he left us.
You can’t ask for more than that from a truck.
My own dad died 21 years ago. I still miss him. I wish I’d kept one of his Pendleton wool plaid shirts. I still miss him.
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OH.MY.GOSH. Caroin, somewhere in my thousands of posts, is a blog about my father’s passing. Including how the 8 of us each got one of Dad’s MANY Pendleton Wool Plaid Shirts!!!! We wore them as we carried him to his final resting place. I believe I fully understand that.
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As someone who seriously missed her dad after he died I get this. How lovely to continue to enjoy his company after he’s gone.
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It was a blessing, really, Tric. I mean, I could get in that truck and just close my eyes and know he was there right before me. (I just went back and added that line to the blog).
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Awww lovely.
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Wonderful that you got to keep his truck, his fragrance, his memory.
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It was wonderful Van, I was so lucky.
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that’s beautiful –
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Thank you Beth.
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I love your ode to this truck. In particular “That truck was a time capsule of Eau de Cologne Papa.” I think smell is like our top sense for memory. And that line captures the heart of this piece, for me. As you know, with my wife and myself grieving this weekend, there are all sorts of tokens happening. In fact, all my wife’s grandmother’s children and grandchildren wore a piece of jewelry from her extensive collection to the funeral yesterday.
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I love the connection your family made, not just with Grandma, but with one another by wearing Grandma’s jewelry.
I am not surprised so many people connect with this. None of us gets through ‘here’ without the feeling of loss.
I hope you and the family are absorbing the comfort and support of one another.
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Wow. What an amazing experience and memory to keep forever. ❤ ❤ <3.
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Thank you Tess. That truck was my best life purchase. ❤
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Such a sweet memory, Colleen!
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Thank you Priceless 🙂
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I can’t ask for more than that from a blog post. Many thanks.
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Thank you Ann 🙂
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Thank you for taking us for a ride with you and your dad in that truck, Colleen.
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You’re welcome, I’m glad you came along Russ 🙂
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I can so relate to this, Colleen! I once had my Dad’s car–the one he taught me to drive in, an English Ford complete with a stick shift located on the floor! We drove miles and miles thru the country roads, Dad encouraging me every time the car stalled because I was fighting that stick! He told me if I learned to drive that car I would be able to drive anything. He had that right!
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I learned on a Willy’s Jeep. Stick on the floor. 🙂 Something in common with you Angie 🙂
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I so love that Colleen! Smells are so evocative aren’t they.
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They truly are. His was very distinctive.
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You are so fortunate for your warm memories.
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I know not everyone has them Linda, so I really am fortunate.
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I can smell that! Wonderful
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THank you Lyn ! 🙂
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My dad’s passing is so recent I’m still feeling his presence every time I walk into my mom’s house, but I don’t have any particular possession that i link to him. I loved your story Colleen, and what a treasure you had in that truck!
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Thank you Debra. We would walk into dad’s house and just sit there, absorbing his presence. That truck really was something. 🙂
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