I found the Elf on Craigslist. The advertisement read “1978 Toyota ELF, only 54K.”

I frantically called the number in hopes the seller would answer. But to my dismay, the phone just kept ringing. It wasn’t until I lost hope (a week later) that he called me back. We set an appointment.

When I turned the corner on that suburban street, I started laughing. The ELF is hilarious. She’s, well, elfish. She is small, smart, nimble and slightly awkward looking. And once I drove her, I realized she is magic.

I tried to negotiate because that’s what my father taught me to do. But the seller was firm on 5 grand. He was going to give her to the first person to offer that to him. I just couldn’t lose her. So I threw down 3K and went to the bank to get the rest. When I came back the seller handed me a folder of all of the records. Included in the green file folder was the original owner’s death certificate. Unnerved, I read the details.

His name. His date of death. Cause of death = self inflicted gunshot wound to head. He took his own life in his living room.

I turned to the seller and asked, “Have you read this?” He hadn’t. “Read it,” I urged. I felt immediate empathy for the deceased and wanted to share this uncomfortability with someone else. He shook his head, “I didn’t know. You want to hold on to the certificate?”

I don’t know why but I agreed. I suppose  to honor this stranger and the pain he felt. I will honor it. But I won’t hold it.

I will also let go of this pain, his pain, my pain, our pain. All of the pains bottled up inside me for the past two years, the sadness this man felt,  will go right out ELF’s window. This is the journey ahead, towards light and love. Towards a freedom from past grief and weighted expectations.