“I’m just an American guy in a pickup truck,” stated Stephen Beech on the finish of one among our early dates. It was Valentine’s Day 1993, and he was dropping me off at my Santa Monica residence.
His remark was purported to act as a deterrent as he defined why he wasn’t the person for me. He’d been by means of a tough few years. His first marriage had ended, and he wasn’t on the lookout for a severe relationship. Anyway, he identified, we had been from completely different worlds. He was a property supervisor from Philadelphia, I used to be a British journalist based mostly in L.A. Additionally, whereas Stephen was intent on remaining single, I used to be on a mission to satisfy the fitting man and begin a household.
However I’d already found that the tall, introspective, handsome man I used to be falling for had hidden depths. He performed classical guitar and he was humorous and philosophical too. I’d met him at a part-time grasp’s program in non secular psychology on the College of Santa Monica. The truth that he drove a pickup truck solely added to the romantic attract.
There was clearly an attraction on his half too. In spite of everything, there we had been kissing in his blue truck outdoors my residence. So we continued courting, and we went all over the place in that blue truck: coffees and dinners, drives alongside Pacific Coast Freeway to Malibu or additional north to go to mates in Ojai. I discovered extra about his reluctance to become involved. Stephen and his first spouse had misplaced their little woman to most cancers. He’d been making an attempt to get better from intense grief and rebuild his life with out the problems of a relationship.
However our relationship took on an ineluctable momentum, and by October, I used to be pregnant. When our daughter, Chace, was born in August 1994, we drove house from the hospital within the blue truck. After we purchased our home in Santa Monica, Stephen piled all our possessions into the again of the truck. He used the truck to haul paving stones for our yard and vegetation from the backyard heart. By the point our second daughter, Ava-Rose, arrived 4 years later, the truck remained dependable.
Ultimately, although, it began to interrupt down. One spring day, I arrived house from work simply as Stephen was pulling up outdoors our home in a gleaming, brand-new, white Dodge pickup. Stephen didn’t get enthusiastic about a lot, however he was smiling broadly as he took me for a spin. Funds had been $400 a month, an enormous chunk of his paycheck, nevertheless it was value it.
The truck turned an integral a part of life. There have been heated conversations in the back and front seats about faculty, friendships and politics and there have been fights about music: whether or not we should always hearken to Radio Disney or classical station KUSC. Usually the consensus ended up being “The Weight,” our favourite track by Stephen’s favourite band, the Band.
Most mornings he’d take the ladies to highschool — Ava invariably leaving the home in a panic, consuming the bowl of oatmeal her dad had made her for breakfast on the highway whereas ending her homework. He’d drive Ava to fencing competitions throughout California. He’d take Ava and Chace to ballet, and he used the truck to cart round gear when he was volunteering backstage for the Westside College of Ballet’s manufacturing of “The Nutcracker” yearly.
When our daughters had been of their teenagers, he’d take them and their mates to events, completely happy to be the designated mother or father gathering everybody within the early hours and ensuring they received house safely. He was all the time placing his truck to good use serving to out mates and neighbors.
There have been typically shock presents delivered within the truck: One birthday, it was a purple wisteria tree; one Valentine’s day, it was a classic O’Keefe & Merritt range.
However my favourite reminiscences of Stephen and his truck had been extra mundane, involving numerous serendipitous conferences round Santa Monica. I’d be out strolling our canine, Puck and Chaucer, and Stephen would simply occur to be driving alongside the identical highway. He’d decelerate, left elbow resting on the open window, and cease for a fast chat: “What’s up?”
The truck was emblematic of the person. Reliable. Enduring. Dependable. Protected. Robust. Till it wasn’t. On March 12, 2018, Stephen referred to as from work to say he wasn’t feeling nicely. He was shuffling and unsteady on his toes. I instructed that he ought to drive to the ER simply to examine that every one was nicely.
That was the final time Stephen drove his truck. He was admitted to the hospital, had a mind scan and was recognized with a mind stem tumor. His situation deteriorated quickly. My Robust American Man in a Pickup Truck may now not drive. After three main surgical procedures in fast succession, he was in a wheelchair and couldn’t stroll. Stephen handed over the keys of his truck to Chace, who’d moved again house from New York the place she’d been working to assist handle her dad. (Ava was in her first 12 months in school.) Chace drove us within the truck to oncology appointments till it turned too tough and Stephen wanted to be picked up by non-public ambulance.
Over the following 3½ years, Stephen regularly misplaced his capacity to speak, eat or breathe independently. However he remained brave and optimistic. Just like the sturdy white truck, Stephen’s spirit and can to reside had been sturdy.
As we speak, nearly 4 years since Stephen misplaced his battle with mind most cancers, it’s time to say goodbye to the truck. Chace has already spent hundreds of {dollars} on repairs, so we’ve made the robust resolution to donate it to charity.
Among the deep grief I’ve skilled since Stephen was initially recognized with an incurable glioma seven years in the past had subsided a little bit, nevertheless it’s again. I miss Stephen and I’m unhappy that I gained’t see the truck once I exit for my early morning stroll.
On a current Sunday morning, I determine to hose it down and wipe away the ingrained grime. I’m positive that wherever he’s, Stephen is rolling his eyes, having fun at my careless use of the hose as I find yourself drenched. I’m positive there’s additionally a wry smile as he watches me take the truck for a drive (my first) alongside our highway, inspired by Dave, our next-door neighbor.
“You have to drive it once,” says Dave, so I do.
I’ll miss the white truck: resilient, sort and beneficiant, similar to the American man who owned it. However it’s time to set off on my subsequent journey, understanding that Stephen’s spirit will all the time be beside me within the passenger seat.
