And Now She is Gone

I had to go to the DMV today to have Katy’s name removed from the title of the Jeep. This allowed me to renew the registration for a couple years. It was not a bad experience, but it was not my favorite moment of the year by far.

I arrived fully prepared to complete the task set before me, having anticipated any emotions that might arise. Although I initially approached the process with a sense of accomplishment for addressing another challenging responsibility, I began to experience a wave of emotion as the young woman behind the glass went through the procedure for removing Katy’s name from yet another document. My head started to feel light and my knees were shaky. I gripped the edge of the counter, closing my eyes as I lowered my head and tried to collect myself. I focusing on not losing my cool, or my cookies, in the middle of the DMV. In my attempt to maintain my focus, I looked up and observed my surroundings. I was trying to find an object that I could focus on when I suddenly noticed there was a police officer standing next to me. He was in a ready position in case I was gonna pass out.  Slightly embarrassed, I steadied myself against the counter and gave everyone a reassuring smile. The young lady behind the glass appeared relieved, and the officer returned to his post as I started to appear more steady on my feet.

Right about this time I looked down to see my wife’s name staring at me. Her death certificate was still lying open on the other side of the glass, and it was suddenly the only thing I could see.  The bold black font popped against the light blue background, with perfect type and spacing that Katy would have appreciated. She enjoyed using classic typewriters, once spending five minutes punching keys and laughing in an antique shop. She was so happy in that moment, and I tried to take it in. I tried to touch the moment. Tried to smell the shop, hear the keys, her laughter again…

However, the moment was interrupted by a young lady behind a thick sheet of glass, just trying to do her job. “SIR! Do you have any other questions about removing your wife’s name?”  As she asked this, she passed my documents back to me. She had placed them in a nice little pile with highlighted notes on the most important pieces. I still looked through to the pile to ensure I had everything, and then I held up the death certificate and studied her name again, and I said, “Wish you had some knowledge on how to remove it from this one?” The poor girl sat there, her mouth was open and her face had gone white. She was terrified and I could see was actually trying to come up with the answer. This was when I noticed the “EMPLOYEE IN TRAINING-please be patient” sign right taped to the glass directly in front of me.

I thanked the young lady for her time and sat down to fill out the required paperwork. Once I received the new title, I put it away in the important folder and went about the rest of my day.

Later that evening, as I reflected on what had happened, I recognized how silly my reaction really was. Valid, mind you. But silly at its core. It’s a piece of paper issued by the government for some reason or another.  Her name being removed from the title of the car, or the bank account, or the Barnes and Noble account, will not erase her from my memories. i.e., silly.

She will always be a part of me, and I will never forget her or the time I had with her. No matter how many documents or accounts I must remove her name from.

I am sure there are some still out there waiting for me.