Summer Road Trip 2014_Day Eight: Life is Short

The shrill sound of my cell phone at 4am Mountain Time jolted me from a deep, tired sleep. It was my brother delivering the startling news that our Dad was dead. We had just arrived in Colorado Springs, my daughter had just arrived in Denver where my Niece lives. One deliberate (or random) act can change the course of life itself.

He called 911, laid down in the bed he had shared with my Mother for nearly 50 years, placed the .22 pistol under his chin, and chose to end his life, leaving those of us who love him to wonder 'why?' It is impossible to place logic on such a selfish, illogical act.  I was speechless when my Brother delivered the news, he too was in such shock that the details came over the wireless connection as matter-of-fact.

My Dad was a man who seemingly had it all; a loving family, three successful children, six awesome grandchildren, a comfortable retirement, a nice home, a dedicated church family, and good health. He left a note, he left detailed instructions on who should be called and the type of service that he wanted upon his death. His call to 911 insured that none of his loved ones would have to witness his last gruesome act and live with that memory of their Dad seared into their minds.

I called my daughter and my Niece to deliver the news. Then it hit me....the anger. Not sadness. Not grief. Just pissed. Why would you do such a thing to your family??  Somewhere in the middle of the breakfast that was cooling on the table in front of me, I decided I was going to ride to Pikes Peak as planned today. Dammit.  We loaded the bikes, I called my daughter to tell her we would be in Denver sometime before nightfall. I needed to ride. My motorcycle saved my life on more than one occassion when I felt my life was unraveling at the edges....imploding from the center. Today was no exception.

We headed out towards Pikes Peak, stopped to ride through the Garden of the Gods....spectacular red rock formations formed a few millenia ago. I felt like I was riding through a Flintstones cartoon. 

I am a Taurus, an Earth sign, I am most comfortable in the elements.....wind, sun, near water or rocks. When tragedy, trauma, or just plain meloncholy hits....I take comfort, no energy or lifeforce itself, from the elements. I needed to feel the wind wash over me, the sun warm my skin and help me try to make sense of a senseless act.

We paid our fees to ride the Pikes Peak Parkway; the first sensation that hit me was the smell....fresh cut cedar or pine, and the crisp mountain air that got colder as we climbed in elevation. Like riding through Christmas. We stopped a few miles up to layer on more clothing; it was 85 at the bottom and close to 32 freezing at the summitt. The road 1\4 of the way up the mountain was leisurely twisty turny...nothing real challenging on a motorcycle. I stopped about 1\2 way up to enjoy the view and build an Inukshuk for my Dad. The Inuit indians of Canada build these rock statues (some in the shape of a man, others just pyramids of stones) to indicate 'you are on the right path,' or to signal to travelers a place where they can take shelter or seek food. I needed to do something to try and make sense of the helpless feeling I had, something tangible, made of rock, that I could hang my emotions onto.  The Inukshuk on the accent to Pikes Peak will remain for many years to come....I hope.  I cried; I kicked the loose gravel, I gave into the grief. I climbed on Bessie2, shifted into gear, gritted my teeth for the challenging 10mph switchbacks to come as we climbed higher in elevation.

The cold wind took my tears.....and before I could squander any more, the road became very challenging, which took all of my concentration. Real women don't need guardrails. I've rode several challenging roads in the last few years on two wheels, this one tops the list. It was a rush, I was one with the machine, one with the elements, and I was in a zone. The trees disappeared, rocks and chunks of snow replaced the pines. The last four miles to reach the summit took all of the concentration I could muster, no time to panic, no way to backout....go big or go home!  Then the last switchback and boom.....its the summit, over 14,000 feet elevation, colder than a witche's tit. My gloveless hands were nearly frozen to the handle grips, white with cold.  I climbed off, jubilant in my accomplishment, gave Paul ( who was right behind me every step of the way) a high five, and we both started digging for out heavy leather gear!

The summit was beautiful, no breathtaking; between the challenging ride and spectacular scenery laid out before us, I forgot the tragedy of the moment. We became tourists, snapping pictures and marveling at the ride up. We headed into the gift shop\restaurant for hot coffee and some of the world famous Pikes Peak Donuts....melt in your mouth fried dough confections. Those donuts alone were worth the ride! A few quick purchases and we bundled up, ready to ride down. All of a sudden it hit me...I needed to be with my daughter and my niece.

We headed north to Denver on I25, a wretched strip of asphalt where vehicles fly by on botched up pavement. Very quickly, I felt myself start to panic (it happens frequently since the accident in 2012) in the heavy, fast moving traffic. Then the crosswinds started, and they were cold. I turned my focus inward, willing myself to grip the handlebars, suck it up and ride.  The closer we got to Denver, the denser the traffic became; I had directions to my nieces house, but heavy traffic, unfamiliar roads....and then it started to HAIL....yes, HAIL. Chunks of ice were pelting us as I dodged traffic and tried to keep my eye on the directional signs. It got to heavy I took the closest exit and found shelter under some trees in a residential area.  We waited 20 minutes or so - watching increduously - as the hail rained down.  Now I've got dense traffic, construction zone, unfamiliar  and WET roads.  I see the exit for my nieces house, but I exit north instead of south, as soon as I do, I realize my mistake. I motion to Paul to pull over....and about this time, it starts to rain and hail AGAIN.  And that was all it took for me to crumble, right there at the side of the road, I had a mental meltdown, sobbing, hyperventilating, and shouting WHY WHY WHY? Poor Paul just held me tight and waited until I could breath. He called my daughter and niece, asked them to get in the car, told them where we were, could they please come escort us to the house?  When they arrived, I was a sniveling, shaking mess.....they both stood outside the car, with startled looks on their faces, afraid to move. Paul talked me down - with the common sense reminder that I had to suck it up and ride because he couldn't ride two bikes. I grabbed my daughter and my niece for a group hug, assured them I was okay....and we started to follow them back to the house. Halfway, sirens started coming at us from all sides, I panicked again, not able to breathe and just stopped in the middle of the gnarl of traffic and blaring sirens. WTF!? Could you throw any more challenges my way today?!

Paul coaxed me the short distance to my Nieces house; I climbed off Bessie....shaking and sobbing....my daughter, literally started giving me directions and taking charge...bless her heart.  We dried off, and while the boys went for provisions, I had a chance to talk with my daughter and my niece who had questions about their grandfather I couldn't answer....but it was good to talk. We connected with my Brother in Indiana to determine funeral arrangements so we could make decisions as well. The funeral is Thursday....I rerouted my daughters flight, my niece made her travel plans, then Paul and I decided we needed a day of rest - off the bikes - before we did a marathon ride from Denver to Muncie.  We would leave at oh-dark-thirty on Monday morning.  We also decided that we would celebrate Father's Day tomorrow with the only Father in our group - my partner Paul. A foray into the nearby mountains and lunch.

God, give me strength to process this tragedy and do what is before me to do.