Grief Part 2: It’s "Just" A Car

There’s the grief of true loss, the grief of giving up, and then there’s the grief of losing things that “aren’t important,” like cars.

Four years ago, I was in a three car accident and my almost brand new car required over half of what I paid for it in repairs. Fast forward to last month when I got rear-ended again* worse, and my car was totaled. I knew to expect that, but had a little hope after my insurance agent said it looked fixable. I got the estimate and though it was almost equal to Kelly Blue Book value, it still looked like they would fix it. I breathed a sigh of relief and even wrote getting the car back and wrapping up accident stuff as a goal for November. Then I got the call that the car was indeed totaled. Insurance would give us decent money for the car, but we had to sign over the title, mail off the keys, and call the body shop to tell them to send it off. I felt a sense of loss.

This was the first (almost new) car I ever bought. It was the first car I bought as a working professional. The car held lots of memories, from work trips, to doctor travels, to our honeymoon, to my daily commutes. It was a really nice car, and I worked hard to keep it that way (minus the one fender scratch I got because of my bad parking skills). I felt comfortable in that car. And now it was gone. I wouldn’t ever even drive it again.

Now we needed to look for a new car, too. That brought on new grief: grief of time that I planned to use to do other things. Buying a new car isn’t quick. Nor are licensing, tagging, emission checks, etc. Grief upon grief.

It’s just a car. It’s not a place, or a person, or even a possession that has immense value. Although a car can enable kingdom work, I know I can’t take it to heaven. Even yet, I still feel grief. May God guide me through it, because man, this grief is piling up. "Just" grief or not, it's still grief, and it's painful.

*My passenger and I are sore, but okay. This accident could have been much worse, and we praise God for his provision in and through it, even with the grief.