Tuesday, February 11, 2014

A trucker's last letter

This story was written by a trucker, who had an accident while driving his load through the curvy and twisty roads around Steambout Mountain, Alaska. Before fellow truckers and the Canadian Mounted police found him dead 2 days later of the accident, He still had time to write a last letter to say good bye to his family and love. Here it is:


My Darling Wife,
   This is a letter that no man ever wants to write, but I'm lucky enough to have some time to say what I've forgotten to say so many times. I love you sweetheart!
   You used to kid me that I loved the truck more than you because I spent  more time with her. I do love this piece of iron- she's been good to me. She's seen me through tough times and tough places. I could always count on her in a long haul and she was speedy in the stretches. She never let me down. But you want to know something? I love you for the same reasons. You've seen me throught the tough times and places, too.
    Remember the first truck? That run down 'ol' cornbinder ' that kept us broke all the time but always made just enough money to keep us eating? You went out and got a job so that we could pay the rent and the bills. Every cent I made went into the truck while your money kept us in food with a roof over our heads.
    I remember that I complained about the truck, but I don't remember you ever complaining when you came home hired from work and I asked you for money to go on the road again. If you did complain, I guess I didn't  hear you. I was too wrapped up with my problems to think of yours.
   I think now of all the things you have up for me. The clothes, the holidays, the parties, the friends. You never complained and somehow I never remembered to thank you for being you.
   When I sat having coffee with the boys, I always talked about my truck, my rig, my payments. I guess I forgot you were my partner, even if you weren't in the cab with me. It was your sacrifices and the determination as much as mine that finally got the new truck.
   I was so proud of that truck I was bursting. I was proud of you too, but I never told you that. I took it for granted you knew, but if I had spent as much time talking with you as I did polishing chrome, perhaps I would have.
   In all the years I've pounded the pavement, I always knew your prayers rode with me. But this time they weren't enough.
   I'm hurt and it's bad. I've made my last mile and I want to say the things that should have been said so many times before. The things that were forgotten because I was too concerned about the truck and the job. I'm thinking about the missed anniversaries and birthdays. The school plays and hockey games that you went alone because I was on the road.
   I'm thiking about the lonely nights you spent alone, wondering where I was and how things were going. I'm thiking of all the times I thought of calling you just to say hello and somehow didn't get around to. I'm thinking od the peace of mind I had knowing that you were at home with the kids, waiting for me.
   The family dinners where you spent all your time telling your folks why I couldn't make it. I was busy changing oil; I was busy looking for parts; I was sleeping because I was leaving early the next morning. There was always a reason, but somehow they don't seem very important to me right now.
   When we were married, you didn't  know how to change a light bulb. Within a couple of years, you were fixing the furnace during a blizzard while I was waiting for a load in Florida. You became a pretty good mechanic, helping me with repairs, and I was might proud of you when you jumped into the cab and backed up over the rose bushes.
   I was proud of you when I pulled into the yard and saw you sleeping in the car waiting for me. Whether it was two in the morning or two in the afternoon you always looked like a movie star to me. You're beautiful, you know. I guess i haven't told you that lately, but you are.
   I made lots of mistakes in my life, but if I only ever made one good decision, it was when I asked you to marry me. You never could understand what it was that kept me trucking. I couldn't either, but it was my way of life and you stuck with me. Good times, bad times, you were always there. I love you, sweetheart, and I love the kids.
   My body hurts but my hear hurts even more. You won't be there when I end this trip. For the first time since we've been together, m really alone and it scares me. I need you so badly, and I know it's too late.
   It's funny I guess, but what I have now is the truck. This damned truck that ruled our lives for so long.  This twisted hunk of steel that I lived in and with for so many years. But it can't return my love. Only you can do that.
   You're a thousand miles away but I feel you here with me. I can see your face and feel your love  and I'm scared to make the final run alone. Tell the kids that I love them very much and don't let the boys drive any truck for a living.
   I guess that's about it, honey. My god, but I love you very much. Take care of yourself and always remember that I loved you more than anything in life. I just forgot to tell you.
                                                         
                                                                                        I love you,

                                                                                         Bill

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