Can Great Loss Bring Great Joy?
A spooky tale in believing
CHECK! That’s my red Sharpie checking off one more Bucket List item. Stella has arrived and is the newest member of our family. Just to be clear, Stella is my new (to me) Mini convertible. Frivolous? No way! I’m over 65, so it’s now or never. And considering I drive like a bat out of hell, it could be my last.
I used to bore my son, Alex, silly drooling over pictures of expensive sports cars and telling him I was saving my nickels (we no longer have pennies in Canada) to buy one. It would be a convertible, cherry red with race car stripes and just enough room in the trunk for my golf clubs. I imagined wildly careening around the curves of the Rocky Mountain highways on road trips to visit family on the West Coast with Alex as my copilot and navigator.
But as we all know, if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. Just before Christmas of 2022, one of the brightest stars in my life was extinguished. My one-of-a-kind son Alex fought a brave, relentless battle with metastatic skin, lung and, finally, brain cancer, a fight he would ultimately lose. Not funny God! But considering Alex was too good for our cruel world, I guess the Big Guy wanted to keep him safe by his side.
When Alex passed away, he left me a little money. So, in the spring of 2023, my husband and I started looking for that new car. My heart was set on a Mini convertible. Being unsure how much such a lavish luxury would set me back, I did my due diligence and concluded it was a non-starter. New Minis with all the bells and whistles were well over CA$50,000 — way out of my wheelhouse. Apparently, just because they’re small doesn’t mean they cost less. Ads on the internet for slightly older models were still too pricey for my modest budget.
We decided to visit a few dealerships that carried sporty little cars. My husband, the eternal optimist, suggested we start at the only Mini dealership in the city and have a quick peek. As we drove into the lot, I happened to glance to my right. Sitting all by herself, a few parking spots away from a long line of shiny new Minis, sat a somewhat dejected, dirty, red Mini convertible. It looked like the other Minis thought they were too good for her and were keeping their distance. I assumed she belonged to a dealership employee who hadn’t had time to wash her.
We parked at the doors and walked inside to be greeted by a young salesman chomping at the bit to sell me a beautiful model that was front and centre in the showroom. $55,000, and I could take her away. In my dreams!
But this is where my story gets a little spooky. Before leaving, I enquired if the little red convertible was available. Yes, he told us, it had arrived a few weeks earlier, but it was five years old — too old for what I was looking for. After asking a few more questions, it was revealed this petite gem only had 35,000 kilometres and had a few bells and whistles of her own. Now, that was interesting. Even more interesting was the price tag, which was well within my price range.
After taking her for a test spin and scaring the bejabbers out of my husband, adding racing stripes and a four-year warranty, I was still within my budget. Little beauty Stella had a new home, and I had my dream car.
Divine intervention? I cannot explain the magic of that moment, but I believe Alex had a hand in it. Stella was the only used vehicle on the lot that day and ticked all the boxes. The clubs don’t fit in the trunk, but the back seat will do just fine.
It’s been a little less than fourteen months since Alex left us, but I still imagine him sitting in the passenger seat beside me, hooting in delight as I accelerate through every curve and corner. Thank you, my precious son; even from beyond, you continue to bring me joy.
