RIP Car (For Real For Real)

OK, so on Thursday, apparently the tow truck driver called Father, but he didn't pick up because he doesn't answer calls from phone numbers he is not familiar with, which is completely understandable.  But the driver apparently was outside the house when he called, and since Father didn't answer, he drove off.

I got around to calling to ask what's up, and they rescheduled for today/Monday.  This time I added my phone number as a back-up in case My Father didn't pick up again.  But this failsafe probably means that the car is going to be taken away, from my life, for real now.  And so, because this is the last last last time, yesterday/Sunday afternoon (before I headed off to overtime at work and then to Palmer's and downtown) I did my OCD ritual of sitting in all four seats of my old car, touching everything inside the car, taking five deep breaths, and mediating (or trying to meditate) for 70 seconds before moving on.  I've done this three times now, and I try to give it the reverence it deserves.  They're hauling away my first love and my means of freedom for so long, after all.  But at this point, frankly, this feels similar to all the talk leading up to Grandmother being forced to leave the house for the memory care home.  I hated doing it, but deep down I knew it was the right thing to do, and going through the trauma of anticipating losing someone (in this case something) so near and dear to me has worn me down to the point where I just want it to be fucking over.  In a way that's giving up, and I hate it, but it feels like it's time.  Well, it was supposed to be time on Thursday, but I'm sure that today really is time.  Maybe.