Ride, Woods, Ride!

Ride, Woods, Ride! Everybody in town would yell this after my buddy Danny Woods would race by them ahead of all the rest of us who were pedaling furiously to try and keep up. Danny was the fastest bike rider, racer really, of me and my friends, and he loved to lead the pack. He was a couple of years younger than me, but he became my best friend in our small town.

So many late nights as a bunch of us would camp out in my back yard in our tent we would dream of how when we got older we would bike across America. I was just 14 and Danny was only 12 but the two of us especially would talk about it late into the night as other friends fell asleep. Sometimes Danny’s little sister, Nicki, would hear us talk about it during the day and beg us to let her come. Danny would roll his eyes and tell her that she was way too young for such an adventure. She was only 8 and who could imagine taking their little sister with them on a trip like this. This was meant for best friends who could ride all day and pitch a tent to sleep in at night and then ride all of the next day. Seeing the country together and having the time of our lives.

As we got older we kept riding and dreaming about our big adventure trip but even that talk kind of dwindled as we got into high school. Then in my Junior year of High School, my family moved away and I didn’t see Danny anymore. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened that way.

Next thing I knew I was away from home and attending college when I got a newspaper clipping from my parents of Danny dying in a car accident. I couldn’t believe it. It had been several years but I always thought I would get back to where he was and see him again. But now he was gone. The article said he was going too fast and hit a tree. Danny didn’t know the meaning of the phrase too fast when it came to riding a bike. I guess that went with him when he learned to drive. I hated that I even thought that but speed was always important to him. He would sit up straight on his bike and wave at people as they would shout to him “Ride, Woods, Ride” as he shot by them as he rode. He thought that was the best and the funniest compliment ever and he always enjoyed it.

I was away and didn’t make it back to his funeral. I should have but I didn’t. It had been several years and we hadn’t kept in touch and I had studying and activities to do for college. Excuses I know but they worked in my head and I just moved on. That’s really sad to even say that. He was my best friend. And I was just moving on. I thought of the bike ride we had dreamed of across America and how it would now never happen. But I knew it was never going to happen anyway. We had grown up or at least were in the process of growing up and other things were getting our attention now. 

I finished college and landed a job at a publishing company. It wasn’t much of a job, basically a gopher getting things for the real writers and editors and all, but at least I was in the business. At least that is what I told myself. The proverbial foot in the door. Then one day six years into it I realized that my foot was always getting shut in that door and it hurt. The boss never saw me as anything but an assistant, though he said I was a good one, and never liked any story ideas that I would slip to him. I was 28 and in a job that was going nowhere. I wanted to quit but didn’t have the guts to do that without having another one. 

It wasn’t money that held me back. I was good at saving and could have survived at least a year if I lived on the cheap but I didn’t really have anything that I wanted to do. There was no job that I knew of that wouldn’t be another entry-level position where I would be just getting by doing something for someone else who was doing something important.

Then I got this strange email that was in my spam folder from N. Woods. N. Woods? That didn’t ring a bell at all. I know it may sound strange that I was even going through my spam folder but that is something that I’d started doing sometimes. I told myself it was to make sure something important didn’t accidentally get sent to the wrong folder. In reality, though, I liked seeing the subject lines from people who wanted to give me a fortune if I would just send them my bank account number so they could deposit the millions for me. Or someone who knew what I did and would release the video and audio they had captured from my computer if I did not send them money. Women who were ready, and willing, to meet with me anytime anywhere for anything if I just clicked on the link right now. The I.R.S. needed confirmation on my filing and if I didn’t respond they would be locking me up. A store had selected me to be one of the first to get a new product from them and then review it but first I just needed to do a short survey.

In the middle of all of that and just before I deleted all of that day’s spam I noticed one from N. Woods with a heading of let’s live the dream. I paused a moment and almost deleted it with the rest but then something inside me told me to read this one. I didn’t need to click a link to read it so I read it.

From: N. Woods. Heading: Let’s live the dream.

Message: I don’t know if you remember me at all and even if you do I don’t know if you would even want to do this but I was thinking that maybe you and I could get together and talk. Just talk. Well, maybe not just talk. Reminisce might be a better word for it. 

It seems like forever ago that you and my brother were best friends and I was his annoying little sister, Nicki. Yes, I’m Nicki Woods, Danny’s little sister? Do you remember me at all? Or him? I know you moved away and maybe don’t even know that he died in a car accident but I hoped you heard and I thought maybe I would see you at his funeral but then you didn’t come and I was disappointed, not in a weird strange way just in a he was your best friend way and why weren’t you there, but maybe you didn’t know. I know, everybody tells me I still run on and on with my talking like I did when I was a child which if you remember me you probably remember. Smile.

Ok so now either you have stopped reading this and already deleted it, are bothered that I would even say any of this to you after all these years, or you are intrigued and can’t wait to hear more. The last one pushes things too far I know but hey if you are still reading this you must be at least a little bit intrigued.

So I just graduated from college and am now certified. I know you are thinking that I am certainly certifiable but that is another thing and you will have to read on to see if your assumption is true. Anyway, I am certified as both a drama teacher and a physical therapist. I know, right? Those two things wouldn’t seem to go together but we can’t always choose what we really like to do and can also get through the training for, so there you have it.

Anyway, I have been offered a job at a high school but before I accept the position I wanted to try and find you and see if you would help me satisfy a promise that I made to Danny. It was about a month before his car accident and we were talking about dreams we had. We had gotten pretty close when I got out of my child phase. We were best friends too. Like you were with him. Well, not the same way but we were. 

He started talking about how you and he had always talked about biking across America and he didn’t figure that would happen because he didn’t know where you were and besides people grow up and have different dreams. I asked him if he remembered about the day that I had asked him and you about going with you and how he had said no that I was too young. He told me he remembered. He laughed and said that now it would be great fun if we found you and took that ride together, him with his two best friends ever. 

I gave him a big hug and promised him that I would try to find you and then ask you to take that adventure together as you had dreamed of those years before. He said that would be great and then he took off somewhere and I went back to whatever I was doing that day. We never said any more about it because then he died soon after that talk and you didn’t come to the funeral and I couldn’t deal with finding you because after all he was gone and the three of us couldn’t take that trip.

I finished high school and then college but sometimes I would think of that promise and especially when I entered bicycle races. I did pretty well and always thought of how fast Danny used to ride. He was so good. So very good. And so very fast.

Yes, I know this has gotten very long but I knew I just had to put it all down or I would not have a chance of getting you to do this. I probably don’t have a chance anyway but I had to take a shot.

So here goes. I don’t know what you are doing. Whether you would even be interested in doing this travel adventure. If there is even any way that you could get away from what you are doing. And if you are even in shape anymore to do this. Laugh.

Would you like to bike across America with me? Would you do this with me for Danny? Would you help me fulfill my last promise to him? And hey, I’m a certified Physical Therapist so if you are too out of shape these days I could help you keep going if you can’t keep up with me. Smile. 

I know you used to like to write. You wrote down everything always and had such details about how the weather was and the places you saw and even the clouds. You made everything sound like an adventure and even though I was too little to go on many of those adventures you would let me read what you wrote and it was almost like I had been there. I don’t know what you are doing now but maybe you could write about our bike trip. 

I know I’m asking a lot, and I’m hoping that I found the right email address for you, but if you could respond one way or the other I would appreciate it. If you can’t do this I understand and I will at least know that I fulfilled the part of the promise to try and find you. But I am hoping we can do this for Danny. Best friends till the end.

-Nicky

I sat in my room staring at the email. I moved it to my personal folder. I realized two things. The first was that I would never ever be able to delete spam in bulk again. The second was that Danny was the best friend ever, even when I wasn’t. 

Then I started my reply to N. Woods. To Nicky. For Danny. 

I tell you all of this my faithful readers because some of you have wondered about the name of this blog that I have been doing about my ride across America. I’ve been describing the highways and the towns we’ve been riding through and the people we’ve met. You’ve even read of some of the places we’ve eaten and my aches and pains along the way.

I thought it was about time to tell you the why of this adventure instead of just the where and the how. We’ve still got a long way to go. I’m still grateful to travel with my own physical therapist who helps me keep going. She is so much better at all of this riding than I am but she waits for me to catch up, eventually. Meanwhile, she rides past me very fast. Those who have been reading of our adventures and know that we are coming through their town often line up and wait to see us, cheering us on. But I know who they are really waiting to see. It’s what I have named this blog. It’s what they cheer when she speeds by them and rises in the seat and waves at them as they shout.

Ride, Woods, Ride! And we both think it’s still funny. Every. Single. Time.

The Woman at the Door

She knocked loudly on my front door and yelled my name until I finally answered it. I asked her to keep it down that the neighbors might call the police at this time of the night but she lunged past me and into my house and slammed the door.

“Who do you think you are talking to like that you liar, liar, pants on fire!” Her saying that made me laugh out loud for real and that made her all the more upset. She went on ranting as she walked around my house that was in perfect condition with everything put away in its place even though I had hosted a party earlier in the evening.

“You are the most disgusting boss I have ever had and that is saying a lot. The guy I worked for five years ago used to slap my butt every time he saw me walk by and then told me that it was all part of seeing if I was staying in shape like the company policy required. I would have sued him but I needed the job. He seemed to get a lot of satisfaction out of slapping my butt and I just wanted to kick his. I was so glad when he was transferred to another office even though it really got to me that he got a promotion in the move. The man should have been fired.”

I replied that I had heard of that guy and she knew that I never touched any butts so what was her problem. She had seemed to have a good time at the company party at my house just hours earlier, that is until she stormed out unexpectedly and no one seemed to know why.

Then she got right up in my face and pointed her finger and pushed it towards me and I backed up a little as she shouted that I knew what happened and I should fire that man. I wasn’t sure who she meant so I asked her to calm down and I would make some coffee and we could sit and talk about it. She calmed down just a little as I made coffee and took her a mug of it and we sat at the kitchen table. 

Then she told me a story that I had never heard. How she had been married to the man who started this company ten years ago but then he ran off with his secretary, stereotypical I know, after just three years. He left her with nothing after selling it to another guy. She hadn’t really known the other person and was out of work until she talked with him and convinced him that she knew more about the business than her husband had and that if he kept her on she could be a big help to him since he knew nothing of the business. 

At that point, she was assistant to the owner and had a broad range of duties that included advising him on the products and the clients and letting him know who the good employees were and who should be fired. I chuckled as she mentioned that she told him who to fire because that definitely fit with what I knew of her. She didn’t seem to notice and just kept explaining that it turned out to be a good position for her. 

That had been her job until that owner sold the business to me two months ago. He had told her that he would let me know about what she did for the company and that she could go right on doing the same thing. Which was what she thought had happened and she continued to write up reports and give them to me and I would look at them and set them aside and kept thinking to myself that at some point I would have to find out what her position really was and why she kept giving me these reports. Meanwhile, I told the assistant manager to give her specific duties and have her report to him.

So evidently my assistant manager decided to tell her earlier tonight, at the party that I had thrown for all my employees, right here in my house. While people were eating and drinking and just having a good time he happened to mention to her that he wanted to see her next week to discuss her job description and see how she could best serve the company and in particular help us now that we had a new owner, me, and were moving in a different direction. He assured her that all of the employees were having this interview as well so it wasn’t personal. He was just treating her like everyone else.

That’s when she got red in the face and shouted to him that she wasn’t like everyone else as she walked quickly to the door and left. Nobody knew what she was upset about and after a little wondering about the strange reaction of hers, everyone just went back to having a good time. Several hours later everyone left and the cleaning crew hired for the event cleaned and put everything back in order. 

That’s when I had just started to relax in front of the fireplace and found myself falling asleep. And then I did. Fall asleep. That is until I heard the loud banging on the door and the screaming voice.

As she seemed to be calming down a little just seeing that I was listening to her I let her know that I knew nothing of her husband, the previous owner’s deal with her and that he hadn’t mentioned her at all to me. I just thought she was another of the employees that were of course staying on because this was a great company that I had purchased and everyone was being treated well by me as they had been before. My assistant had come to the company with me from another company that I owned and he knew nothing about her either. He was acting on my instructions. Had he ever been inappropriate with her? Had he said or done anything at all that I should be aware of?

She told me no, that he was a perfect gentleman if there was such a man, and that she was only complaining about him about what he had said to her tonight at the party about her job and being treated like everyone else. I told her once again that he hadn’t meant any disrespect because he really didn’t know about her history with the company in the same way that I didn’t know.

She nodded and looked me in the eye and asked me what I was going to do about it. I looked back at her directly and asked her what she meant, what she was talking about. She said what I was going to do about her reports and was I going to fire the people that she told me to fire. Would I listen to her about financial plans and clients and would she be my top adviser?

I said we would need to talk about this at another time at another place. This was my house, it was late at night, and to treat her properly and business like we should discuss this at the office next week. Perhaps Tuesday afternoon. But I would have to check with my secretary to see when I could work her into my schedule.

I could tell that she was starting to get heated about my putting her out and off so I suggested that maybe tomorrow night we could have dinner and discuss this further. She could lay out her proposal for how she saw herself working for me and my company and I would listen and respond with the needs that I had at the company. But right now I really needed to get some sleep and perhaps it would be good for her to do so as well.

She smiled and said that dinner tomorrow would be fine. She knew that she could continue to bring value to me and the company and she would tell me more about that at that point. Rising from her chair, she paused just a moment before saying goodnight as I showed her to the door and she walked out to her car. 

Watching her leave I understood about the one boss she had mentioned. It was as if she knew I was watching because she looked over her shoulder and smiled. She was used to getting what she wanted. She was a very shrewd negotiator. She definitely had skills.

The Wind

The wind. Blowing across my face, across my body. A feeling that I had hoped for, longed for, begged for. Just a little breeze. And then, a ripple could be seen in the trees. The breeze was not just a slight one across my lips but one that was evident in the leaves on the branches.

For six long years, the lack of wind on this planet had brought devastation. I would never have guessed how important the movement of air was to life, growth, and to the present, let alone the future. Now, this tiny fluctuation, this breath of air across my forehead, and slight movement in the branches brought such refreshing and faint, just the faintest, hope that this seventh year could be, would be different.

Different. After all of the sameness of these half a dozen years, different seemed extraordinary. Different seemed like magic.

Magic. Almost forgotten these last years. The everydayness, the regular, the ordinariness had dried me out, had dried everyone out. Had dried the planet out.

When the magic was gone, when the potions that bring new life had disappeared there could be nothing that really mattered. Or almost nothing. Nothing except holding on to what was. To the dryness that accentuated the barrenness. Barren. Almost lifeless. Almost.

The wind. I felt it again across my cheek. It was almost as if, as if mind you, I could sense someone, a touch from someone, a gentle finger brushing against my cheek and then ever so softly across my lips.

I looked and now there were no moving leaves in the tree. No branches swaying. Just the faintest, oh so faint, wind against my eyelids. Breath really. Blowing across my eyes.

Six years I had waited for this returning. I had demanded the wind to go. I rejected it. The hurricanes had damaged us too much. The wildfires had spread too far and too fast because of it. The blizzards whipped the snow around to freeze and cover us. The blowing rains drowned us.

So I told the wind to leave. I yelled for it to just go away and never come back. Screaming into the wind that was even then ready to pick me up in a spinning tunnel and heave me at a distance that would end me. How could it even be that I could ask that? But somehow I did with what seemed like my last breath. I told the wind to go and unexpectedly it listened. It left. In a moment.

Now in this new beginning, this start of the seventh year, the wind returned with a kind kiss upon my lips. This promise of what was to come upon me and the planet.

And then...I was flying.

One Brief Moment

Riding down the road. Around the curve. Just a quick thought. Would it be so bad? The pain would end. The horrible feelings of what I had done would be over. My failure. And now the self-doubt. The anger. All of that. Over so fast.

One brief moment.

Three months ago I was flying high, literally. The jet I was on soared above the clouds and I was on my way to speak at another conference. My book sales were pushing toward the top of the list and calls were coming in from all over for me to speak. I couldn’t turn any of them down. Couldn’t? Didn’t want to. This is what I had worked for the past twenty years. I had to ride it on and on and on. The dream had finally come true. I had arrived.

Then on that jet, a young woman stood in the aisle and asked if the seat by me was 6-B. I said yes, B for beautiful, and then I blushed. She smiled as I nodded for her to sit by me. As she put her bag in the overhead compartment I couldn’t miss seeing her. She looked down at me and smiled and then slid into the middle seat beside me. I noticed then that her ticket was for the aisle seat but I didn’t say a word as I sat securely in my window seat.

She reached out her hand to shake mine and said she looked forward to the flight with me. I introduced myself and she said oh I know who you are. I saw you get on the plane and realized that you are the author of the book I’m reading. I’m only partway through but your picture on the back cover is such a good one that I recognized you right away.

I told her thanks and that I hoped that my book would be helpful to her and she said it already was. Then she said maybe I could explain it more to her as we flew, if it wasn’t a bother, and then she could learn even more from it and from me. I said of course that there were a lot of thoughts that I had that weren’t even in the book. A lot of good ideas but the editor cut some things out to keep it running smoothly and not too long.

Soon we were up in the air and talking and I was explaining my book more and she was taking it all in and asking question after question, so drawn in by my ideas. I was surprised when the announcement came on that said we would be landing soon and I told her that the flight had passed quickly with such good company. She smiled and said it had all gone too fast for her too and that I was the best seatmate that she ever had. 

I told her that if she wanted to learn more that I was doing a talk and book signing at the Applegate Hotel tomorrow morning at 10. She took her book out of her bag and asked me to sign it for her now in case there were too many people around tomorrow and I didn’t have time for her. I laughed and said I don’t think that could ever be the case.

I opened the cover of the book and wrote, “To the perfect seatmate. Charming, inquisitive, and beautiful. Thanks for the conversation. Even if it was only for one brief moment.”

I closed the book and handed it back to her. She opened it and read what I had written and thanked me. She said that when she had read my story of being on that road and felt like ending it all that she could relate.  The self-doubt. The anger. And my book was really helping her. She was sure that many were being helped. She said she was really glad that she had gotten that seat by me today. I replied that the aisle seat might have been more comfortable. She bit her lip and said that she was in the seat that she wanted to be in.

I told her it was great to meet her and perhaps we would meet again. She kissed me lightly on the cheek and said she hoped so. As we got off the plane into the airport she waved at me and walked away. I could see the book cover as she turned. One Brief Moment. 

A Page from the Crime Blotter

We never really know what the people who came before us, parents and grandparents, people with shared names, have gone through, the challenges they faced, the tragedies that marked them for life. Later, putting the pieces together, hearing the truth, and including what changed a person, a story emerges, and a moment pinpointed where reality meets tragedy, and childhood is pushed aside. Chapters, family stories about life in the good old days and not really understanding the pages that weren’t so good. A page like this one.

A Page from the Crime Blotter

It should have been an ordinary day. Uneventful. Saying goodbye in the early morning to his son, F.P. stopped at the bar before heading to work. Too many mornings started that way. Trying to work on the railroad for long hours and raise a son in the 1930s was so hard. Many lost their way and never went home. F.P. should have stayed at home that day. It would have made all the difference for two families. Especially for his son.

The police report called it a fight that got out of hand because the men were drunk. How it happened was difficult to tell. The stories of bystanders differed but there were the usual accomplices. Anger. Rage. Alcohol. Too many long days on the railroad line where work was hard and it eventually took its toll.

In the end, one man lay dead. The other beaten and bruised was taken into custody and eventually convicted and sent to jail for murder. Truth is it could have been either of them that ended up dead. Either of them convicted of murder. But it was F.P. who went to prison and never really recovered from the fight, the time in prison, the loss of his son.

The boy heard the pieces of the story over time but when it happened he only knew that his Dad didn’t come home that night. And it was just the two of them. Now he was all alone. His Dad had left him.

F.P. didn’t confess to wanting to kill the other man. It wasn’t his intent it just was what happened in the heat of the day and the anger and rage within him. Life was too terrible.

His wife had left him because he was too old for her. Yes, she was more than 20 years younger and just a young teenager when they married. But they had three daughters and one son together. They must have loved each other enough for that at least. But then she wanted him to go, but they could be friends she said. She would take the girls and he would take the boy. They would live, literally, next door to each other.

Living in the smokehouse that was turned into a dirty bedroom, F.P. and his son lived right next to where his wife and daughters lived in a proper house. It didn’t seem fair but it was what was. That friendship she had said they would have allowed her to have a house and her girls and be able to see her son when she wanted, which she did. A strange family in times before it became normal to have strange family situations. 

F.P. slowly drank more and more and stayed away longer having to work on the railroad line as it was built further and further out. He got home when he could and even those nights it wasn’t for many hours.

Then one day when he was home he found out that his ex-wife was seeing another man. She had the right of course. She had said he was too old for her now that she had grown up.

But then why was she dating a man who was as old as he was? She didn’t choose a young man but instead, she chose to date an older man about the age of her first husband, F.P.

F.P. was infuriated from inside. He would never hurt his wife or his children but anger grew and grew within him. It took more and more alcohol to get him to sleep and then more and more alcohol in the morning to get him going as he headed to work.

That day of the fight was like any other day. He said goodbye to his son and went off to work, stopping at the bar for some drinks. Then he saw the man he worked with every day who laughed in his face about his wife choosing another man. The younger man called him old and said maybe it was his father who was sleeping with his ex-wife. 

The younger man had too many drinks also. F.P. kept pushing him away but the younger guy just wouldn’t let it go. He laughed in his face and called him so many names and questioned his manhood. Then they fought and F.P. lay on the ground exhausted by the pounding he had received from the younger man. 

But still, the younger man wouldn’t just walk away. He kicked F.P. and then finally was ready to end it and claim victory.

F.P. took out a revolver tucked behind his shirt and shot him dead in the heart. Dead. In the heart.

The boy was left with only a middle name to match that of his father’s. 

Say Uncle! Time to Give it Up. (An Advice Column)

Dear Uncle Freddy,

My girlfriend thinks I should either get a job or move out. But I love my mother and moving out is not really an option. She needs me and likes to cook and clean for me.  A job would only lead me to buy more things for her to have to clean and that seems unkind after all she does for me.

What should I tell my girlfriend? I enjoy dating her but my Mom is my Mom and it’s not like my girlfriend can’t continue to pay for our dates together. After all, she already has a job.

Signed,                                                      

Living the dream

Dear Dreamer,

It looks like you have three choices. None of them will have you put in jail unless things go very wrong in the execution, of the plan that is not actual physical execution. I don’t advocate that as you well know if you have been paying attention to my earlier columns.

Choice #1 - Get a job. Your girlfriend perhaps is tired of paying for your sorry self who refuses to work but still counts on the fact that she works and for some reason keeps you as a boyfriend. That is a whole other column, or series of columns, best left for other issues, in the newspaper not to speak of the other issues between the two of you.

Perhaps she thinks that it will build character in you if you are gainfully employed or perhaps she feels that you should have to work since she hates the job she has and wants you to have the same misery. Again, the opportunity for another column but she should write in for that advice. Let it be her story as she wishes, as this is yours. I would have so much to tell her about you, that’s for sure, and about her obvious lack of decision-making skills.

In any case, you could get a job but you already have said that you don’t want to get one and your Mom obviously doesn’t care so you can just stick with your Mom’s money.

Choice #2 - Move out. Interesting that your girlfriend gives you this as a choice since if you choose this and not the job you will have nowhere to go to live. This seems totally unreasonable for her to expect you to live on the street, assuming she is much too smart to let you ever move in with her and have you mooching off of her for more than just your dates. Let’s move on from this choice though it could be an option if you have other family members or friends to move in with and pay your bills for you. I’m thinking the answer is no to that since they have most likely seen how you are. 

Choice #3 - Move out with the blessing of your Mom since she may be glad to have you out of her house so that she doesn’t have to cook and clean for you and otherwise be your maid. She may be willing to finance your exit and future life without a job since she has been financing you already and she could rent out your room at home and not be expected to provide both room and board, just the room.

So, Dreamer, it’s time to negotiate with your Mom for an exit from her home, make sure it’s in writing, for her sake, not yours. I’m sure she knows a good attorney to get involved. 

Then move out and tell your girlfriend that you took option two even though you and I, and my many readers, will know that you actually took option three. She will get what she asked for and she will have to live with her poor choice of demands. This will teach her to be more careful in the future because sometimes you get what you asked for. 

In any case, for you, Living the Dream is over. Say Uncle! It’s time to give it up.

Regards and no regrets,                                                      

Uncle Freddy

ABOUT UNCLE FREDDY

Fred Rock lives a simple life in a simple town with simple opinions about simple people.  

Fred studied philately and geology and has put his stamp of approval on a variety of projections and knows how to dig down to get to the core of the matter. That is what makes Fred such an insightful and helpful columnist in the area of relationships. 

Fred is often seen around town enjoying a quiet walk with his mother, with whom he lives.

Happy Birthday, Mom. You were the best.

Today, October 2, you would have been 98 years old. We would have talked about how close you were getting to being one century old and we would have eaten cake and had balloons and laughed and I would have told you how much I loved you. You would have smiled and kissed me as I bent to kiss you and give you a hug and feel yours in return.

Instead of getting close to a century-old, you left before reaching a half-century. 49 just wasn’t old enough especially since I only knew you 22 of those years. When I last saw you I didn’t recognize you because you looked so old and frail in that hospital bed. We didn’t know that I would be the last one to see you alive. I would have stayed longer if I just would have known. And I know you would have stayed longer if you could have.

I’ll never forget that last summer when I was home and wishing I wasn’t, wishing I was still with my friends from college where I had just graduated but instead I was home with you and Dad. I felt so alone and that one night I cried in the upstairs bedroom. You came upstairs and sat on the edge of the bed and just held me like I was your little boy...which I was again that night and I suppose always was and still am. I enjoyed being close to you as you held me without talking until I suppose I felt I was too old for such a thing and pulled back slowly. I will truly never forget that night when you were well and hadn’t gone to the hospital from which you didn’t return.

I miss you, Mom. You were the best.  

I love you.

Your youngest son,

Richard