How do I begin?
First, thank you all so much for your kind words.
It means so much to me.
I just need to pour out some of my thoughts, so please, please don't feel like you have to comment; grief is awkward for those around the griever and I understand that very well myself.
I guess I'm putting some thoughts here because I feel like you should know more about what happened and who he was.
First of all, he always wore a helmet.
He also knew how to handle a bike better than anyone.
He pulled that thing out of skids a bunch of times.
I was writing a post when I heard him come into the house, and I sort of assumed he was still here.
When the doorbell rang, 15 or 20 minutes later I assumed it was my husband returning from a client site and he'd forgotten his keys or something.
Before I reached the door I realized that was a stupid thought.
There were 4 uniformed officers standing there and I knew it was something bad.
My thoughts leapt to the stupid things G. could have done.
He has a concealed weapons permit and my thoughts jumped there.
They asked if my husband was home.
They then asked my relationship to G.
They again insisted that they needed to speak to my husband, and I said, "Oh no...What did he (G) do?"
They said, "He passed away."
The previous interactions had been like lapping little waves and that was a tsunami.
So unexpected, so wrong.
Then they came in and we sat down and they told me a little bit about it and gave me a card and collected information about other immediate family.
They didn't do the greatest job.
They need a better set of questions.
They never asked how many brothers he had, and whether they should send an officer to tell his ex-wife (as it turns out, they should have; she thought the phone call was a practical joke), and hesitated over sending one to his mother because she lives so far away.
Um, DUH, fuckers, you can call one of the cops in HER town and send him.
I was coherant enough to come up with that suggestion, but I feel bad I didn't think of telling them to send someone to his ex-wife.
When they told her, they said he had had an accident on his bike, and she said, "ok, which hospital is he at?"
When they told her that he was dead she said, "oh, then you must have the wrong guy. He wouldn't have crashed his motorcycle."
And she truly beleived what she was saying.
The cop insisted that it was him and it was then that she joined the rest of us in hysterical crying.
That was when she explained how great he was on his bike--I never knew that he was that good.
So what the fuck happened?
I had to personally tell 3 of the 5 brothers.
And his girlfriend--
the girlfriend he told all of us he had broken up with a year ago.
The girlfriend I knew he was still seeing.
The girlfriend who...is such a fragile creature that I can't stop worrying about her.
My husband didn't get it; no one did.
But I had to find her.
She didn't know yet and I couldn't let her see it on the news.
We had no way of reaching her Saturday night, but yesterday I went to her parent's house and took her mother with me to tell her (I didn't know where she lived or have a phone number).
Was probably the worst thing I've ever had to do.
She needed him more than any of us can comprehend.
I can't think about it right now.
I'm going to go down later and take her into the funeral home so she can see him.
She's not family so they won't let her in...it's so unfair.
As for what happened.
I guess he was racing up and down the street, without his helmet.
So very uncharacteristic of him.
He was popping little wheelies, and just showing off or something.
He lost control and flew from the bike, into a tree.
A tiny fucking tree, like 4 inches thick.
That tree is coming DOWN, by the way. That godamned tree.
It was the only thing he could have hit and he did.
A few inches to the side and we'd have a whole different story.
He was a big man, 6' 8".
How can he not be indestructible?
So. He died on impact.
I hate that the news story plays up the fact that he was speeding and not wearing a helmet--
I know those things caused his death, but that's not who he was.
He wasn't that guy who plows through life without regard to others (or of his own safety).
He was so considerate, so aware of other people.
He was aware of how hard my husband's constant business travel was on me; he was so kind to me.
We never talked about it or anything, but the softness in his voice, the compassion when he said, "Cameron's gone again? Wow..."
I should have
--ah, but that list could go on forever and it's pointless, anyway.
I know that he felt loved here, I know that he felt peaceful being part of our family and that is worth a lot now.
We gave him stability.
He wasn't home a lot, but we always had some good conversations when he was.
And I am so, so glad I got the chance to know him.
It's so weird. I go from being matter-of-fact and telling the story to feeling it and just sobbing again.
I didn't know this brother very well before he moved in here a year ago.
With 5 of them, I am closer to some and less so to others.
He had the reputation of sort of being the Asshole--
an ego as tall as he was.
He was Mr. Always-Right.
But he had begun to soften over the past few years and people closer to him had always said he had a soft core.
They were right.
He was an amazing father and a good person.
He really was smarter than most people, which is where the ego came from.
He was taller than most, too.
Got a basketball scholarship, so he obviously excelled there.
My kids were as curious as ever when I told them about what happened, full of a million questions.
They don't quite get it, but that's ok.
I had mentioned reincarnation to them a few days ago (as I tried to counteract mother-in-law's Mormon Resurrection speech...ugh) and so one of them said, "Maybe he'll come back as a bird." The other chimed in, "Yeah, if you see the giantest bird, it's him."
(oops. I kind of posted that mid-thought. J was here with french pastries--sorry, she wins the prize for best friend! Oh, and wine...I forgot the wine. That was more of a thank-you present for watching her dog, though.)
I guess I was nearly done.
I could go on and on.
I have been talking and crying non-stop since it happened, so the healing process feels like it's on target.
My eyes are still very puffy, and I keep forgetting to eat,
and I have to keep busy or I just cry.
There was something else I wanted to say about him, though.
I can't remember it right now.
I keep thinking he's just not here right now and then I remember.
Oh, I remembered the thing I was going to say!
Yes, saying "Jesus" reminded me, actually.
He was staunchly opposed to organized religion, and had often said, "If God himself showed up and told me the Mormons were right, I would still not believe it."
As a person who hasn't lost someone since she herself was a staunch mormon...
it is interesting to wonder what he's experiencing right now.
I still firmly believe in an after-life, and I know he at least recognized it as a possibility.
I found myself, in the first hours after the accident, with this sense of excitement or anticipation--
I don't know quite how to describe it,but I was feeling eager for him to see what's on the other side.
Sounds kooooky, I know.
But I know he was curious, and I know he was skeptical.
But I also know that he was pleasantly surprised.
I better go round up the kids and feed them.
Just because I'm not hungry doesn't mean they aren't, right?
Again, thank you for all your virtual hugs.
I really am sorry for making you feel my sadness no matter how briefly.
But I guess that's how friendship works...we share each other's highs and lows, don't we?
I'll call ya when it's time to get high.
I mean...be high?