Grief stricken by cleaning out a van

I knew it was going to happen.  For 3 years and 5 months I have been driving around in a Cornhusker Red Minivan.  I thought my days of driving a "soccer mom" vehicle were long gone.  However, about August 2009 my dad said to me in the Wellspring Espresso Patio, "Kell, if I die do you want my van?"  I said, "First of all, dad, you're not going to die.  But, if you do - sure I'll take your van!"

Only a month or so later that man, my dad, Bill Channell went to the emergency room and didn't come out.  We buried him in a Nebraska Hoodie.  His heart was so full of love he defied death for more years than he had but it finally caught up with him.  I told my mom about the conversation and she gave me his van.

I would have never thought to buy a van.  Somehow this van was different.  It was dad's.  The last thing he bought.  He was too weak to go to the dealership so I called a salesman and had him come to Wellspring.  I told him what my dad would like and he brought THE van.  Dad bought it.  He was proud of it.

When I took possession I found a receipt in the glove compartment for gas he bought the day before.  His sunglasses were in another compartment.  His atlas.  Maps.  A Leatherman I gave him for Christmas.  Batteries.  Tissues.  Wet wipes.  Lozenges.  CDs.  Pink Panther DVD.

A few months ago I was talking to my daughter, Courtney.  She and her husband Luke are expecting their third child.  They both drive Toyotas.  A Corolla and a Matrix.  Neither big enough for three kids.  I checked Kelley Blue Book and realized that dad's van and their Matrix were worth about the same.  I knew it would be hard for them to afford a car payment so I agreed to swap vehicles with them.

I cleaned out the van of everything.  I threw away those receipts.  I looked around and knew he would be happy his van was carting around his granddaughter and 3 of his 5 great grandchildren.  He only knew Haven, the first.  She was just a little over one year old when he died.  He loved her.  He had her picture on his phone.  He'd hold it up and say, "this baby made me a great grandpa!"  He'd actually get off his recliner and lay on the floor next to her.  That was hard on that guy but he loved her so much.

You never knew a man who loved to talk more.  Or someone who was generous to a fault.  He loved watching sports and Dr. Phil.  He'd often say, "how's that working for you?"

So to my daughter and 3 grandchildren I pass the Nebraska Caravan!  I hope you drive that thing until the wheels fall off.  I hope your children watch many a movie while driving and you have just enough room to take them and all your stuff!

I love you.  I love you Dad.  I miss you Dad.  The years and months are clicking by and it scares me how long I have been without you.  You were a part of my life every single day for almost 50 years.

Thank you for giving me you in the form of a van.