Attempting to move on...

Next week will mark a month since my best friend passed away in a horrifying motorcycle collision head on with an SUV. This month has been nothing, if not a total blur. The first week of the month was spent with his family, getting all the arrangements made, the cemetery site picked, surviving the funeral, and then dealing with seeing his bike for the first time, and finally bringing it home. I came home thinking that I would have time to mourn, time to gather myself together, only to be getting up with his brother for coffee, and breakfast another time, talking on the phone with his brother, his wife, and all three of his girls. All along with trying to maintain a regular schedule of working and taking care of things at home and with my own family. I find myself getting angry, at God, at Satan, at family and friends, knowing that it is my inability to come to terms with his death, to truly mourn and deal with my emotions, with my loss, that is causing all this. How do I go forward, when the friend that I shared everything with, all my thoughts and secrets, my fears and worries, the man who knew me better than anyone and had done so for 36 years? That is a friendship that you can't replace, nor would I want to. I have been back down to Charleston along with his brother to visit Chip's family. Also to talk to his wife about a headstone, as Chip's brother Dan is a graphic designer with a local memorial company. His family has pretty much decided on a black granite stone with laser etching of his Harley V-Rod done on it. I am sure Chip would approve. I know that another trip will come soon as Dan will want me to ride with him as we go down to show his wife the design. Each trip gets, .........well...........I guess I can't really say easier, but at least a little more desirable as I want to see his family, to know they are okay. I feel it my duty, my tribute to my friend to be there for his family. I know that sometime in the near future, I am going to have to take some time off, away from the job, from my family, and from his family, and get away to myself for a few days. I haven't had any down time, any time to look inside, to look at that deep, dark place that I am afraid to go to. I know that once I open that door, it cannot be shut, and that I will have to deal with it then and there. And no one can do it for me. But, I have to have the time to explore it, to deal with it, and to be able to move on from there. Maybe then, I can come back to my regular life, with a little more patience, a little more togetherness, and hopefully a lot less anger and pain. I know that it will never fully leave me, but the ability to deal with it is all I ask. I hope for anyone that ever reads this, that you never have to deal with this, that you, my friend, will always have your best friend with you until the end. Of course, we all must come to that end sooner or later, and whether it is we who have to deal with it, or our friends who will have to deal with our loss, all things come to an end. Thanks for the memories, Chip, and being the best friend anyone can ever have.

RIP, my dear friend...

December 04, 2006 has to be one of the most devastating days of my life. That is the day that my best friend of 36 years was killed in a motorcycle accident. That Monday night I was home, just having gotten off work a short hour or so before. My wife walks in after answering the phone, her face an impenetrable mask, walking towards me as if she is struggling against gravity to come into the room. She stops at my feet, looks at me, and tells me she has some terrible news. My first thought is for my sisters, and thinking that something has happened to one of them. Then she proceeds to tell me that my best friend of 36 years has died. That he was killed in a head on collision with an SUV. Needless to say, I get up and get dressed and head to his parent's house. It is almost too much to bear as I look at his frail parents, both in their seventies now, and listen as his father talks about it's not right for a parent to bury their child. And he's right. It is not fair. But unfortunately, this is not a fair world. The next day I go to work, mainly in a daze. I tell my boss I need a few days off, as I am heading to Charleston to where his family is. His wife and kids live there, and I need to be there for them. I have known his wife since they met, and she has been my friend for 26 years. I have watched each of his daughter's, 25, 21, and 14 years of age, as they have grew. One, married, another, a senior at Clemson, and the other, an eight grader, They are my surrogate family. I love them as my own. I stay with them for four days, trying to share their burden, trying to ease their pain, trying to do what I can do, only to have to leave and come home to my own grief and pain. Chip was my best friend and the brother that my mom and dad never gave me. We met in junior high, graduated from high school together, went to all kinds of places together. I was shy during those early years, and he was my middle man as to telling young prospects how I was interested in them. And never once made a snide remark, or refused to do so. He was my best man at my wedding, there when my son was born, and shared with me each of his three daughters as they were born. I helped him in raising them, being their "Uncle Gicky", and love them as my own. We rode bikes together starting off on "crotch rockets" racing around like we were invincible, drag racing on roads and at the drag strip, going to road races, going on trips to the mountains and just enjoying life. We both got away from riding for a while, but the lure drug us back in, this time in the shape of a V-Twin. We both had admired Harleys for a while, I with the Road King and he with the V-Rod. Of course, for him, it was about the performance. With me, it was the comfort. I accepted my age, while he fought it all the way. But, we made a great pair. We made trips all over, with Daytona and Laconia being the biggies. We had talked of Sturgis, but I had put him off with the thought that 2007 would be the year I had three weeks, and I could take two of them to go. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be. He was a Road Captain with the local Charleston chapter of the Harley Owners Group, a diver that volunteered for the SC Aquarium, a treasurer with the Telephone Pioneers, a wonderful husband, father, and friend. He was the epitome of what a true friend is, and I will miss him for the rest of my life. He also was my brother, and as such, he is irreplaceable. His ride was a 2005 Harley Davidson Screamin' Eagle V-Rod, and he cherished it to the end. It allowed him to soar about the clouds of despair, the clouds of what was known but to a few. That cloud was Parkinson's disease, and the clouds were gathering worse every day. He wasn't one to complain, and he refused to let it stop him from what he loved to do. He fought the good fight, and in the end, he died doing what he loved to do. He didn't lay down, he didn't give up, he didn't quit. He gave it full throttle and outraced the disease to the end. Chip, your pain and suffering are gone now. Your frustrations at what was happening is over. Thank you for the greatest 36 years any friend can ask for. I will miss you, my brother.......my friend.