White Trucks

He pulled up in the driveway that spring day in March 2018 with a huge grin on his face. “What do you think?” He asked. “It’s nice.” Adam had just bought the white Ford F-150 in Oroville the day before. He came down to Lincoln to show Don and I, and we went out to lunch at Panda Express to celebrate.

He loved that truck. Took it camping, off-roading, you name it. I’m forever grateful to my sister and brother-in-law for storing it on their property after he died because I couldn’t look at it without falling apart. Eventually, the lender came and took it back. But it hasn’t left my memory.

Did you know that there are about a million and one white Ford F-150s on the road these days? I see them everywhere. On my way to work. On my way home. I can’t get on the freeway without being surrounded by them. To be honest, I was getting angrier and angrier every time I saw one. Seriously? I can’t take this!

This went on for months. I was recently talking to a friend about it. “I need to change my perspective about the truck situation,” I confessed. I decided that every time I saw a white truck I’ll just say, “Hi Adam.”

So far, it’s been working. Instead of feeling consumed with grief, I feel more upbeat – focusing on the fact that Adam is in a far better place than trudging back and forth to work on the freeway.

But there is one truck sighting I’ll never forget. It happened last Sunday as we left the cemetery in Weaverville. Before leaving town, we stopped by the cemetery one last time to leave some rocks on the graveside that the family had decorated. During the 20-30 minutes that we ambled up and down the rows of the other headstones, we were all alone there. After all, it’s a remote cemetery in a small town. Who else would be out and about on an early Sunday morning? We read some of the headstones, talked about potential family scenarios and losses, just took our time.

Finally, we hopped in our car and drove around to the backside of the cemetery and wound our way towards the front to leave. As we looped around, someone snuck in from the back entrance. They were right behind us as we drove through the gate. What kind of vehicle? A white Ford F-150, of course. It was as if Adam was saying, “goodbye.” Not that I think that he’s hanging around the cemetery – I don’t believe that for a second.

It’s just a place that we can go to remember and honor him. I know he’s not really there. Still, perhaps for a second, from somewhere in the other realm, he got a peek. It was as if he and the Good Lord were having a great game and saying to each other, “Let’s give them a white truck sighting as they leave. Wouldn’t that be epic?”

And it was.