I DRIVE HIS TRUCK
I DRIVE HIS TRUCK
It sits in the garage.
Everyone wonders why
I keep it.
The dust and dirt of the seasons covers it. I walk by it every day as the months and years come and go.
Twice a year I drive it.
I slide in the seat.
The smell of him is fading and the air freshener he tucked in the vent is beginning to crumble.
I carefully back down the driveway.
The gear shift is tight with age.
The windows rattle and the water seeps in as I drive it through the car wash.
The repair shop asks me why I want the oil changed when there has only been 50 miles driven since the last service.
I don’t tell them.
When I drive I feel his arms blend with mine as our hands in unison hold the steering wheel.
I push in his Bob Dylan cassette and it crackles loudly through the speakers.
Our hands drum to the beat.
And we are off.
We drive together, he and I, through 22 years of memories; the good, the painful, the magical and the tragic.
We find ourselves in a place where here and there - now and then doesn't matter.
A place where love binds us back together.
When I carried him I wanted to experience and remember every moment of my pregnancy and every un-medicated contraction during his arrival.
It would be my last passage through the process.
I re-live these now.
His first steps, his first words and his first day of school blur into the yellow lines of the road we travel.
We drive by the baseball field where his Little League Tournaments were played and the skate park responsible for his first stitches.
We stop at the gardens where the stone holds his name and the saying by Rumi.
We pass the gas station where I bought his last tank of gas.
The wind whistles as we drive through town by his apartment and onto the interstate where we drive fast as our thoughts and pain escalate
I hear his fishing poles and baseball equipment rattle in the back.
The speed is cleansing.
Together we sing, we laugh, we shout, we cry. We say prayers of gratitude for his life, our life together, his brother, his sister, family, friends -- and his daughter.
I hear the echo from so many years ago when the phone rang with a voice telling me he was gone.
Carefully I position it back in the garage.
Bob Dylan stops.
Time is put in park as I feel his beard brush against my cheek and,
“I love you, mom,” hums in my ears.
“I love you too, honey. I love you so.”
Another anniversary of
that phone call comes to
His birthday will be here soon.
it sits in the garage.
Everyone wonders why I keep it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Pennie’s Life Lesson:
“Love binds us together
no matter what separates us."
J.T. (Jameson Tanner) Lindemann 1985-2007
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9/12/2014 11:56:05 pm
Bless you, your son, and the truck- and thank you for such a telling devotional.
9/13/2014 01:08:36 pm
Thank you for reading and for your kind thoughts!
9/13/2014 02:49:32 am
Thank you for this post. I lost my oldest son (Trevor Essen 23) in a haying accident on July 24th of this year. I am still having a hard time accepting that he is gone. People keep telling me that eventually I will forget and move on, but I don't want to forget him. This helps me know that he will be in my memories forever and that it is okay.
9/13/2014 01:18:35 pm
9/13/2014 03:00:46 pm
Wow, Pennie! So powerful and moving. I Love to see emotions written as they are so heartfelt. I think I could actually feel that truck in motion. I wonder why anyone would question why you would keep his truck and drive it only twice a year? I think it is a wonderful tribute to him as all young men "Love" their trucks. Thank you so much for sharing this incredible story with us, and keep on drivin', I am sure he would approve!
9/14/2014 01:46:29 am
10/1/2014 08:50:42 am
Ah the power of ritual, what a blessing you offer as you share your heart, your story, your healing and your loving connection to your son past, present and future.
10/2/2014 02:00:46 am
Thank you Lea for this comment. Yes, we are all connected through the magic of love -- time and space does not change that. Have a grand day!
5/3/2015 04:05:07 pm
Beautiful story, from mom's heart---precious memories, never forgotten~~
5/4/2015 11:43:07 am
Thank you Wuanita!
9/14/2015 04:11:19 am
I also lost my son and I hear so many times I should be over it. I am so much better now than I was but I still have my moments and the tears come and then I'm ok. Thank you for your story and the memory of your son. I sometimes need to know that I'm not the only one! Prayers sent for your journey!
Sheryl, Thank you so much for reading and commenting. You may also like to read "Life Vest" you can search for it in the search line at the top of the page. I am sorry to hear about your son. Nothing is harder than this pain. Please free to email me at email@example.com
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There is a certain magic about where I live both physically and spiritually – on the crossroads of Spirit and Brave.
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