Hey Folks, welcome back, thank you for sticking with me here.
Part II: Drifting
I last left off tell you about a friend that was killed right here in my home town while he was out taking a ride on his motorcycle.
Carl was a good guy, and taken far, far too soon. He was 33 years old, he just got married in March, and he was a daddy of a five year old little girl. To say that he'll be missed is a gross understatement.
In all honesty, Carl and I weren't super close in the present day, I wish that'd been different, but we always stopped to say hello when we'd see each other around town or at the farmers market. I first met Carl back when we were just kids, maybe 1983-1984. My best friend's mom and Carl's moms were very close friends and as a result, Carl was around a lot when we were little. I remember him as a sweet little guy, very little, I think he was about 3-4 years old when we first met, he was adorable.
The week between Carl's death and his funeral was sad one. Gutted for those he leaves behind, his new bride and his daughter, and all those who loved him, I couldn't shake that drifting, discombobulated feeling.
The fact that he was just going about his business, taking a ride, enjoying the summer - doing the same thing I was doing the night he was killed just breaks my heart. This could have just as easily been me.
It's unfair. And I know, I know that life is unfair, but somethings are just unfathomable and seem so meaningless. Why? Why did this happen?
Carl's funeral service was last Friday. There were hundreds of people in attendance. A reunion of sorts, the worst kind. So many familiar faces, friends and family, all wracked with grief.
I know that for as long as I live, I will never forget the sound of Carl's five year old daughter, crying sorrowfully, sobbing and calling out "I want my daddy!" in the church that afternoon, or the wave of fresh sorrow that crashed over everyone who heard it, like a physical punch to the chest. It was just as horrible as it sounds.
But there was goodness too, funny stories and memories of those who loved him.
After the service a group of about a dozen of us gathered for a meal, not ready to let each other go just yet. Then later, we gathered at the home of a friend. We talked, we watched the kids play, we thought about him.
The next day, I felt numb. Wrung out.
On Sunday I decided I needed to clear my head, to shake loose some of the sadness clinging to me. I needed to be outside, so I packed a backpack and my dogs and headed to the hills for a while. I needed to get some air and be in nature.
I went to a place my brothers and I used to go to a lot and walked and walked and walked. Took a few photos, and said goodbye to Carl.
You can't stop, you can only move forward.
I don't know what was in that guy's head as he was driving though town that evening, I don't know why he didn't see Carl's bike. Maybe he was distracted, maybe he was drunk (they're looking into that and news of such has been excruciatingly slow), but whatever the reason, he killed someone who wasn't doing anything wrong, someone who was out for a cruise, who should have gone home to his wife and little girl, all because he wasn't paying attention. Lyndzi and Nevaeh's lives will never be the same.
Please, please be careful out there friends. Be present behind the wheel. Take that extra second when you're driving to look in your mirrors, over your shoulder and entering intersections, lives really do depend on it.
Love to you all,