one too many (warning: sad)
>>The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.<<
I'm sorry for the serious topic, but it's what's on my mind today, and I like that this is a supportive group that I can share this type of thing. Also, it situates how I came to cycling, and what it's meant to me.
A year ago, my life became... different. And today especially, but this whole year, I have been thinking about what happened and how it's affected me. I know many of you have experienced painful losses, and maybe some of you haven't but I'd like to write some of my thoughts and how I came to cycling as well as to a subtle shift in who I am to try and be a better person, to try and do with my life something that is meaningful...
A year ago this day, my husband and I lost a very good friend of ours. We had last seen him at our wedding, just a few weeks earlier. I don't have many friends, and most of my friends are via my husband, although this is now something I am working on (easier said than done for a natural introvert). Anyway, he was my husband's motorcyling buddy and would frequently stop by and hang out with us even when they didn't have anything planned. He was not someone we felt we had to be different around, clean up for, make special food, whatever. He just was content to hang out. He loved playing with our cats, was willing to help do whatever mundane things we were up to. And we'd done the same over at his place, though not as often. He was always cracking jokes and finding fun in life. He lived close by, and we shared other interests as well & there was frequently talk of 'someday' doing this or that. We'd get a little more serious when we'd actually invite him over for dinner with other company, as we did on a couple of occaisions. We saw him most in summer, when he'd be out and about on his (motor)bike, and he always tried to get me to go with my husband more, but I'd politely decline saying it wasn't really for me.
The hard part, the part that makes it so difficult for me - is that our friend chose this path. He left behind so many - friends including us who would have done anything we could have to prevent it, and of course his family, including a twin with whom we are also friends (like most identical twins, it took me a while to tell them apart at first!), who would have done the same. None of us saw it coming - he hadn't talked of his feelings, or led a recognizable battle with whatever was going on in his head, and we were all in our own ways devastated. As an EMT, I feel like I was somewhat prepared for something like this, but this was someone who was extremely careful about his life and health who didn't reach out to as far as we know anyone on this. This kind of grief was/is at least for me, very different from the passing of my grandparents. Yet of course in hindsight, we all wonder if we could have done/recognized more.
I remember finding out like it was yesterday - frozen and crystal, and in some ways like how I recall 9/11. I remember the mood I was in before, and after finding out. I remember where I was, what I was doing, the weather, the disbelief and panic I could hear in my own voice. The feeling of 'is this really happening?'
For the remainder of the year, I felt like I was in winter hibernation, generally upset, and very sad. I just wanted the year to be over, as this seemed to eclipse the joy I'd felt around our wedding and honeymoon not too long before. I hoped 2006 would bring me something to look forward to, and maybe I'd begin to feel joy and want to engage again. And as sad as I was, I know my husband and our friend's family were feeling it even more than I could fathom. My husband was a pallbearer at the funeral.
In February, a colleague sent a notice to our work site looking for PMC riders to form a team. I hadn't ridden seriously ever. I hadn't raised thousands of dollars ever. I was out of shape, and I didn't have a road bike. The longest I'd ridden before in recent times was 15 miles, and that was a big event! Though the PMC had sounded like an interesting 'someday' thing before that email came across my desk (I did have a someday goal of doing a century, even then), when I got the email that day, I knew that if my doing this would keep someone from the sadness I was feeling, I had to do it. I know cancer is a very different scenario, but still, it's unexpected, chaotic, and those left in its wake feel shocked, and/or robbed of time with someone they cared about, just like how I was feeling.
I was hoping that maybe somewhere in that journey, I could channel my sad energy into something more positive. I asked my husband if he'd be interested (the summer of 05 we'd also had his grandfather pass away from cancer and my uncle be diagnosed with brain cancer- thankfully my uncle was treated pretty effectively). He was, and we'd signed up. Within a few weeks, we went to the bike store to pick out bikes.
Next came rumblings of a layoff at my work, stressful in its own right, and not too much later I found myself one day with lots of time to ride. Cycling was something I could stay focused on, with a goal in mind to achieve, rather than worrying about a situation I again had little control over.
So I rode, a lot, and as I rode I processed somehow everything that had been going on, and how it was changing my outlook on what kind of person I wanted to be and what my place in the world is. I can't say I think on the bike about such things (I think about the cars, the next turn, the road, my pace), but I am definitely processing. I still don't know all the answers, but I know that when I come back from riding, I am more ready to engage with others.
I have written about the PMC elsewhere, that it was an amazing event.
But still, it didn't/doesn't bring him back and I can't help but have a hollow feeling about it. I feel that I failed him (and his family) as a friend and I don't know that I will ever feel otherwise. In my religion the first year after someone's passed is the mourning year. I have spent a year mourning his loss, but now I hope to find ways and focus more on celebrating his life. I guess, our friend did succeed in getting us out 'biking', though maybe not what he had in mind. Still, I think he'd approve, and I'll continue to think about him in this context.
We're spending part of today doing things we know he loved, my husband's just left to do their favorite local motorcycle ride, and I'll probably just go for a walk in the woods. We're getting together later with mutual friends and his brother. Maybe we'll even have a little bonfire (he enjoyed that too).
It's hard that even in this modern time, this is such a little discussed topic, yet still such a problem for so many. I have read that around 30,000 people in the US alone commit suicide a year. Even now, I find it hard to say that word. Not that I want to be talking about it at dinner parties, but there are days I just want to scream, cry, yell, or just say to people when they're wrapped up around the little things, 'Don't you get it? This stuff is not the stuff that's important. We all have such little time here, and is this really how you want to spend it? Do you realize how quickly it could all change? Let's talk about things that really matter!' There are days when 30,000 or for that matter, just one, is one too many.
Anyway, thanks for reading...
