The Taxi

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Life moves on.

I’ve always used that statement flippantly.  An off the cuff phrase.  It has an entire new meaning to me now.  It’s deep and meaningful and a statement that is intertwined with healing and moving forward.

It’s Thursday.  That means I’m on my way to meet my very dear friend Jeri for coffee.  She’s the kind of friend anyone would be lucky to have.  Always happy.  Always smiling.  She makes me laugh.  When she walks into a room there is an energetic force that enters with her.  Everyone loves her.  I’m happy because we’ve set up a standing weekly date on Thursdays to get together to meet for coffee.  Or manicures.  Or lunch in the city.  Or just so we can talk.  And lately, I’ve been doing all the talking.  And Jeri listens.

It’s been an emotional few months.  The loss of my Mom hit me hard.  It hit all of us hard – my siblings, my kids, my nieces and nephews.  It also left a mark on my Aunts and Uncles and, well, pretty much anyone who knew her.  She was lively and young at heart and fun.  She laughed a lot.  And made you laugh.  She was someone you loved spending time with.

It’s an emotional process learning how to say goodbye to someone you love.  It’s hard to move on because there is a daily sadness that washes over you.

And Guilt.  You feel guilty just for going about your daily routine.  I guess because somewhere down deep that means that you are starting to face that fact that this cherished person is really gone.  But you don’t want to acknowledge it because that means that it really happened and that it’s not just a dream.  A bad dream that you are waiting to wake up from.  You want to hang on to every last piece of this person for as long as you can.

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There is a recurring dream that I have often.  I’ve experienced the same one repeatedly – over and over for years.  It comes to me at night when my mind is supposed to be shut down and relaxed.

I dream that I’m back at school again.  I’ve returned there in my dreams for years.  It’s never as I remember.  It’s always in a different town and with a different group of people from my life, past and present.  But, the theme is constant.  I can not remember the last time I went to class.  I can’t find my classroom or my locker.  When I finally do find my locker, I can’t remember the combination.

Somewhere towards the end – and always right before I wake up – I realize that everybody is graduating and moving on except me.

I haven’t had this recurring dream recently.   No.  It has been replaced by a different dream.  One that does not come to me at night, but one that is on my mind throughout the day.  Everyday.

I’m driving in a taxi with my mom.  I don’t know where we are but it’s in some big city.  We are riding along and suddenly the taxi pulls up to the curb and stops.  My mom turns to me, smiles and gives me a hug, opens the door and then steps out.  The taxi pulls away from the curb again.  But, I’m still in it.  I turn to look out the back window and can see my mom standing on the corner where she had gotten out.  She gets smaller and smaller until she is out of view. I can not see her anymore.  And then, she is gone.

I’m moving forward and going on with my life and she is not with me anymore.

Every now and then you get to the point where things start to make sense again.  Your routine as you once knew it feels somewhat back to normal.  Then the sadness washes over you again.  It can be set off by any small thing.  A song.  A picture.  An upcoming holiday.  A dream you have at night.  A thought during the day.

So, you surround yourself with your support system.  You spouse.  Your kids.  Your dear friends. Thursday’s with Jeri.

It’s a process.  One day at a time.

Life moves on.

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24 thoughts on “The Taxi

  1. Nancy

    Peg, my dear, sweet little sis. Same dream, different city.
    I truly believe some day we will be in that taxi, all of us together with Mom. I pray that the dream never completely fades, for that would mean possibly the pictures in our hearts would be fading. I wish for them to just be easier to absorb, if that would ever be possible. Know that you are loved so much and I am so very lucky to have you as my sis.

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  2. Pingback: The Taxi | MindMuses

  3. Old Nancy

    So many memories.
    Everyday something new – I have to tell Joy about. Why hasn’t it sunk in? She’s not here, at least not in body. She’s always been there for me. Ever since she took my hand and took me to my first day of Kindergarten. I know she’s still there holding my hand.

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  4. Written so simply, so from the heart that I just had to leave a little something behind. Peaceful days will come, dear lady and the sadness fades though it never goes away. You will notice however, happier thoughts will replace the sadder ones and those happy thoughts etch a certain beauty inside of you that reflect on the outside. From just words, I can see it already. 🙂

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  5. I just lost my mom two weeks ago. At the same time I had to place my dad in a nursing home. It’s so hard, surreal. I just can’t wrap my mind around it. I find that some days I can handle all that’s happened with a fair amount of strength and then other days the slightest thing sends me to tears. Grief is very strange. Thanks for this post which gives me a picture of where I might be a few months down the road. It helps to know I am not alone.

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    1. I’m SO sorry for your loss. Losing your mom is like no other loss you will experience. Take comfort in the fact that a Mother’s Love is always with you. Always. Take the time you need to work through the loss.

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      1. I am trying to fill the hole in my heart with all the many good memories I have of her and my dad. Also trying to do as you say, allow myself to feel whatever I need to feel to get through this. Thanks for your kind words.

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  6. Very good, I lost my mother in 2010 and not a day goes by that something doesn’t remind me of her. Soneone once told me you never get over a parent’s death you just learn to live with it, no pun intended.

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    1. I have heard that term for years, as well. And most recently, I have been told that it especially applies to the loss of a mother. A very hard loss. She usually is the glue that holds the family together.

      So sorry for your loss.

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  7. Patti Kraai

    I loved this one! I lost my mom 25 years ago … she and I were both too young. The memories become sweeter and sweeter but you will never stop missing her or holding her hand and that is a good thing. Love ya

    Liked by 1 person

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