You Had A Fast Car

One of my first – and possibly one of my favorite – memories of my stepdad happened long before he and my mom were married. My sister and I were young, maybe 7 and 10, and David had a white Camaro that he drove us to a concert in one night. I remember being SO excited that we were going to get to ride in a car with the top down. Gosh, David was so cool.

The concert was in Jackson, MS – probably 3 Doors Down if I had to guess – which was an hour from our home in Vicksburg. Erin and I had begged David to take the top off for the drive there, and being who he was and always wanting to make us happy, he obliged. The drive there was warm and sunny, and Erin and I felt so cool riding in The Camaro!

But the drive home was a different story… we rode home with the top off, but the weather had turned quite cool after the sun went down, and Erin and I both froze to absolute death the entire hour it took us to get home. I have a visceral memory of riding in the back seat with Tracy Chapman blaring from the speakers, desperately wanting to enjoy the fact that we were riding in a CAMARO but also trying my best not to look like I was freezing because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for this amazing experience David had just given to us. That night is still one of my all-time favorite nights.

He passed away in September last year, and that night is one that comes back to me often. It’s a core memory that I am so happy to have in moments when his absence hits me like a ton of bricks. To this day I can’t listen to Tracy Chapman without thinking of him.

He was always doing stuff like that for us, my mom, my sister, and me. He was a man of few words, but we always knew where we stood with him. And he showed us love in ways we had never experienced before. In his kind and quiet way.

I have another memory of him when we were visiting his parents in Texas one summer. His mom and dad lived on Lake Coleman up in the panhandle and we visited them every summer. We used to go on walks in the evenings around their neighborhood and down to the lake. It was always peaceful there, which was exactly why his parents loved it so much. And the sounds of summer were always amplified in that quiet, peaceful community. Our walks were filled with the sounds of southern summers, clear skies with the brightest stars, and the occasional scorpion to keep us on our toes.

One evening, Mama and David went walking alone but came back to the house after a few minutes to tell us we had to come see something. So Erin and I jumped up and went to see what they were talking about. The long road to their house was lined with thick hedges and Texas cacti that created a sort of void when it got dark, but on that night, the brush was lit up with more fireflies than I had ever seen in one place before. It looked like honest-to-God fairy lights. It was like God had come out and strung those bushes with twinkle lights just for us. We stood there for the longest time just watching and feeling His presence around us. It was one of the most amazing sights I’ve ever seen. And it’s something I haven’t seen again. Until tonight.

Tonight, on my way home, I felt like I needed to listen to Tracy Chapman. I’ve found myself doing that every now and then when David is heavy on my mind, and for some reason, tonight he was. So, I pulled up my Spotify and started up “You Had a Fast Car,” and let myself get lost in the memory of that night in the Camaro. That song always takes me back to that night, and I listen to it anytime I need to relive it. For old time’s sake.

By about the third Tracy Chapman song, I was home. I pulled into the driveway right before dark, and to my great surprise was met with the same firefly light show we were blessed with on that summer night in Texas 20 years ago. The woods behind our house were absolutely lit up with them. I had to stop and watch them for a while, and I knew immediately that David was sending me a sign. I felt him everywhere then. A sign from beyond letting me know that he’s okay.

I’ve been feeling lots of guilt lately about how I acted out towards him when I was a teenager. Years of therapy and growth has made me simultaneously nostalgic for the “good ole days” and sad for how I acted towards people back then. I could make every excuse in the world for what I was going through at the time. I was a kid who’d been abandoned by an entire parent and was too old to fully accept a new one into her heart after that trauma, so I wasn’t always pleasant to be around.

It took a few years and me moving out of the house for David and I to develop a good relationship, but I always knew what he did for our family. And never did a day go by that I wasn’t grateful for it. He always forgave and never judged me. He showed my sister and I what unconditional love from a father figure looked like, and I’ll always love and credit him for that.

I miss him now. I miss the random bouquets of flowers and plants he would send me to let me know he was thinking of me. I miss our talks about the best kitchen knives and the new thing he just found on Amazon. I miss being able to send him a quick text letting him know I’m thinking about him. I miss getting those texts from him. I miss our weeks at Lake Coleman and wish I hadn’t taken them for granted when I was young. I miss seeing his truck in the driveway when I come home to Mississippi.

I think about the last few months of his life and how it feels like we were robbed of any meaningful conversation with him because he was diagnosed too late. I miss him, but I also think about the lessons he taught us in life and in love, and I’m grateful for the time we got to spend with him. I know I’ll always have him in my heart.

Things are not the same as they were, but I felt his presence tonight greater than I’ve felt in a long time. So, just in case he’s still listening: Dear David, I hope you’re getting to drive around Heaven in that white Camaro again with your mom and dad and brothers, Bill and Bryan. I hope you’re all getting to ride with the top down, Tracy Chapman blaring from the speakers, with all of you warm and toasty in the sunlight. Sending all my love to each of you.

💕