- Rear bike tire went flat at 80 MPH. Honestly, it wasn't terribly frightening; the front wheel started bouncing and as I slowed, she felt like I was riding on thick pudding.
- The battery cover of my Sporty fell off while riding down I-215 at 65. Hearing 'chink...clink...clank' while riding is typically not the harbinger of happy tidings.
- Had the opportunity to spend two weeks with my daughter while getting all her education details situated back in Iowa.
- During this same two weeks, the joys and inequities of the federal student aide program became quite obvious.
- Blew the primary oil seal on my Rebel... Again.
- Learned from my Dr. that a few ailments associated with my occupation are starting to become apparent.
- After putting on some additional, undesired weight, took up hiking again.
- Got another tattoo.
- And...
And... lost a close member of the family. First, a warning and bit of context. Below is the recounting of a tender subject with some; the passing of a furry family member. As for context, my ex wife was taking care of him until his medical needs exceeded what she could handle, at which point he came to live with me. Because of this, and the fact that our daughter lived with me, there was some amount of necessary interaction. We don't hate each other; we just don't want to associate much, other than when necessary.
At any rate, what follows is something I wrote not long after his passing...
A moment perhaps, a second. His head gently dropped. A second needle was inserted and second chemical injected. The drugs were efficient and painless. The doctor checked for heartbeat and respiration; none. He was gone. No more pain or exhaustion or seizures or cancer.
A scream of love and concern and sorrow echoed from my bedroom. Sprinting up the stairs I found my daughter sitting, crying, petting Jake as he lie helpless on the floor in the throes of another seizure. I hug her around the shoulders. “I am going to get your mom.”
Lying there within the physical comfort of his favorite blanket, Jake now passed, 'B' sobs, “Please get three pebbles.” I understand. After retrieving three stones, tucking them next to the mortal coil of a friend and tucking the blanket around him, I kiss him on the head and whisper, “If we meet again, it would be an honor my dear friend. I love you.”
This was not the time to break down and cry. To everything there is a season, and this was not it. Peaceful for eternity, Jake's remains lay safe in my saddle bag. Crying in a full face helmet is not conducive to safe riding.
1 comment:
:( jake
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