I now reside in Santa Cruz, Ca. - my hometown, and will stay here indefinitely.
This loss has robbed me of my identity - everything that I've believed in and held true to promises made are now gone.
The grieving is heavy, but not so heavy that I can't pedal. And riding bikes has been the constant in my life that burns bright in the darkness of life.
If you are a reader of my blog, you know that I search for life metaphors through bike riding. When the initial hit happened, I was at a complete loss - it was instant chaos in my life - an earthquake. Now, the aftershocks are heavy and unforgiving. However, the one place I know I could find solitude, was riding my BMX bike. Riding BMX is when I have a brief moment to talk to God - to work through the empty vastness of life and death that surrounds me.
I now live 2 miles away from a BMX-only ramp park. I have never been good there; I've always been scared to ride any of it. Any time we went there, I mostly parked my bike and watched the other riders.
I don't know why I've been scared - I see riders of all age ranges and skill levels ride those big ramps. But I always just sat and watched, hesitant, waiting for an open opportunity to try and get a run in.
The other day, I let go. I let go of the fear, the hesitation; the wait. I dropped in and rode those ramps as if I've always been riding them. I crashed - rashed my elbow, got up, and kept riding. I put elbow pads on over the open skin.
These ramps looked so menacing to me in the past - there was no way I could ride them... and why would I put myself at that much risk? The more I ride them, the smaller they get. By removing my fear, I let the ramps take me under their control. They tell me what they want me to do. They will either guide me safely through the line, or ball me up and throw me.
When you have nothing left to lose, surrender to the emptiness. Allow it to envelope you and guide you to unknown places. I am grieving, but I am not afraid. I let go.
Riding from a BMX session yesterday, the sun had set. Wearing my backpack, helmet strapped to my bag, I turned on my red, blinking light, and rode home through the incoming dark.