“Good Morning!”
That’s the greeting you would hear if my dad answered the phone, any time of day. If you said “It’s not morning”, he’d answer in his cheery voice “It is somewhere!”.
On April 5, 2008, just one week after our Ride to “Joe’s Place”, my dear father — a strong, optimistic, active, 88-year-old teddy bear — passed away from major injuries he suffered from a fall down the stairs of my parents’ home. His terrible fall occurred just 2 hours after I posted the ride report. The unthinkable had happened.
The first week following his accident and in the days after his passing, I could not imagine riding my bike again, at least not for a long, long time. Cycling, I thought, is too much care-free fun to enjoy in the midst of deep emotional anguish.
By the end of this week, the unthinkable happened again. I actually thought of going for a bike ride. Not for the fun of it, but to get a little exercise, a little sunshine, a break from the sorrow. Dad would want me to get back out there, just as he would do. He was proud of my cycling adventures and would not want me to give up exercise. He’d want me to get back out there and live again, as he enjoyed life himself and tried to get some exercise every day. He would feel the sorrow, and do it anyway. He enjoyed everything he did to the fullest.
So today, I rode for Dad. It was a beautiful, sunny, warm spring day. There were many people out riding, walking, running, and skating. I said “Good morning!” to each one as we passed. I was amazed how many returned the cheerful greeting back to me. We stopped at our favorite ice cream hang-out, Bert & Rocky’s, and shared a cup of Mint Oreo ice cream. I talked to people who were hanging out wherever we stopped along the way, just as my dad would have done. He was a very sociable guy who loved people and was genuinely interested in everyone he met.
It felt good to get out on the bike again.
Thanks, Dad, for the inspiration. I miss you terribly, and your positive encouragement lives on in my heart.
