Took the saddest ride of my life last Saturday
#1
05-13-2014, 09:42 PM
Took the saddest ride of my life last Saturday
Last Saturday, I took the one ride I dreaded taking.
My mom, who was 89 years old, and had been recovering from aortic valve replacement in Feb, had a massive stroke the prior Sunday. With no hope of survival, or recovery from the coma, we terminated her life support at 2am that Sunday.
The following Saturday, Myself, my 2 brothers, 2 nephews, several close family friends, and my 3 best buddies took her to her final resting place.
Her ashes were in my tour pack, atop a quilt she had made, surrounded by roses (which she loved) and I took mom on her first and only Harley ride. We arrived in perfect formation, sounded a 4 second salute (engines revved) to signal the heavens to prepare for her arrival, and I blasted "fly to the angels" over my Boom system with Mom resting on her quilt in my lap. We then carried her to her final resting place.
Below is the end part of the eulogy I delivered.
When I was sixteen, I decided I wanted a street motorcycle. I figured the odds of Mom allowing THAT to happen, were about the same odds as a pink elephant flying overhead delivering pizzas. But this was another one of those times. She not only didn’t object, but she financed it for me. Its been a lifelong passion ever since, that she enabled all those years ago. Mom was tickled 3 shades of pink every time I rolled up to her house. And I made sure to give the throttle a little goose just so she would know. She loved it even more the few times that one or more of my brothers was with me. She adored the fact that all three of us rode. She felt it gave us a common bond that could bring us closer together. Mom once tried to ride one of jeffs dirt bikes in the front yard. To hear her tell the story, we talked her into it. We all know the truth is that we tried to talk her OUT of it, but she was insistent on trying it, despite our best efforts. To say that you should not turn a 55 year old woman who does not understand how a clutch operates loose on a motorcycle, cannot be stressed enough. Mom wheelied across the front lawn, through the bushes, and across the driveway, before her foray into motorcycles was ended by the neighbors Pinto. We can laugh about it now, but what I remember most, was that mom had the guts to try it. MY mom. When she found out the hard way that she herself couldn’t ride, she encouraged us all the more to do it ourselves. Mom was the only one who I never got the “its too dangerous” lecture from.
That was one thing Mom alway wanted. Mom wanted us, her children, to do, and enjoy, and experience the things in life that she had never done, or that she could never do herself. When I rolled up on my latest Harley last summer, she came outside and beamed as she and I went over every little feature. She wanted to know what everything was, and what everything did. She stood out there with me for 45 minutes with a huge grin on her face.
Mom always wanted to go for a ride with me. I had taken her once, when I was a teenager, on that fist small bike she helped me buy, but through the years, I always knew, she wanted to go again. I would see it in her eyes every time I rode over to her house. Unfortunately, her heath and her body would not allow that to happen, and she knew it. Well mom, today you got to take a ride on a Harley. Its certainly not the way either of us wanted it to happen, but you got to do it. One day, when we are together again, we will do it again. I promise.
Mom was always there for me, no matter what. She often didn’t agree with my choices, or even understand them. And she would let you know it. But she supported them, because she knew that each of us has to follow our own path in this life, as she did herself. She taught me to live my own life. To be my own person. To show the true face of that person to the world. To be genuine. To persevere, to carry on and move forward when life kicks you in the gut. Don’t ever give up. Make you life what you want it to be, and to hell with anyone who doesn’t agree.
She could be frustrating, aggravating, even infuriating to deal with at times. But she loved us with all her heart, and that heart was always in the right place and full of love for us. This last year when that huge heart was failing, she took it in for an overhaul, cause she still had too much **** to do. Quilts to make, roses to tend, houses to clean, and family to love. She was one tough old bird, my mom. The very definition of the words as my brother Jeff said. Stubborn and independent. Loving, generous, and giving. She took life’s hard knocks over and over and powered on through. She taught us to do the same. She passed away in her beloved home, where she most wanted to be. She had been puttering in her yard, and cleaning her house. She left us in the place she most wanted to be, doing what she most loved to do. None of us can ask any more.
Farewell mom, I love you always. Pick us out one damn fine Harley for our next ride, shine it up, and have it waiting when I get there, and we’ll take that ride together. All my love, Your baby son, Kelly.
My mom, who was 89 years old, and had been recovering from aortic valve replacement in Feb, had a massive stroke the prior Sunday. With no hope of survival, or recovery from the coma, we terminated her life support at 2am that Sunday.
The following Saturday, Myself, my 2 brothers, 2 nephews, several close family friends, and my 3 best buddies took her to her final resting place.
Her ashes were in my tour pack, atop a quilt she had made, surrounded by roses (which she loved) and I took mom on her first and only Harley ride. We arrived in perfect formation, sounded a 4 second salute (engines revved) to signal the heavens to prepare for her arrival, and I blasted "fly to the angels" over my Boom system with Mom resting on her quilt in my lap. We then carried her to her final resting place.
Below is the end part of the eulogy I delivered.
When I was sixteen, I decided I wanted a street motorcycle. I figured the odds of Mom allowing THAT to happen, were about the same odds as a pink elephant flying overhead delivering pizzas. But this was another one of those times. She not only didn’t object, but she financed it for me. Its been a lifelong passion ever since, that she enabled all those years ago. Mom was tickled 3 shades of pink every time I rolled up to her house. And I made sure to give the throttle a little goose just so she would know. She loved it even more the few times that one or more of my brothers was with me. She adored the fact that all three of us rode. She felt it gave us a common bond that could bring us closer together. Mom once tried to ride one of jeffs dirt bikes in the front yard. To hear her tell the story, we talked her into it. We all know the truth is that we tried to talk her OUT of it, but she was insistent on trying it, despite our best efforts. To say that you should not turn a 55 year old woman who does not understand how a clutch operates loose on a motorcycle, cannot be stressed enough. Mom wheelied across the front lawn, through the bushes, and across the driveway, before her foray into motorcycles was ended by the neighbors Pinto. We can laugh about it now, but what I remember most, was that mom had the guts to try it. MY mom. When she found out the hard way that she herself couldn’t ride, she encouraged us all the more to do it ourselves. Mom was the only one who I never got the “its too dangerous” lecture from.
That was one thing Mom alway wanted. Mom wanted us, her children, to do, and enjoy, and experience the things in life that she had never done, or that she could never do herself. When I rolled up on my latest Harley last summer, she came outside and beamed as she and I went over every little feature. She wanted to know what everything was, and what everything did. She stood out there with me for 45 minutes with a huge grin on her face.
Mom always wanted to go for a ride with me. I had taken her once, when I was a teenager, on that fist small bike she helped me buy, but through the years, I always knew, she wanted to go again. I would see it in her eyes every time I rode over to her house. Unfortunately, her heath and her body would not allow that to happen, and she knew it. Well mom, today you got to take a ride on a Harley. Its certainly not the way either of us wanted it to happen, but you got to do it. One day, when we are together again, we will do it again. I promise.
Mom was always there for me, no matter what. She often didn’t agree with my choices, or even understand them. And she would let you know it. But she supported them, because she knew that each of us has to follow our own path in this life, as she did herself. She taught me to live my own life. To be my own person. To show the true face of that person to the world. To be genuine. To persevere, to carry on and move forward when life kicks you in the gut. Don’t ever give up. Make you life what you want it to be, and to hell with anyone who doesn’t agree.
She could be frustrating, aggravating, even infuriating to deal with at times. But she loved us with all her heart, and that heart was always in the right place and full of love for us. This last year when that huge heart was failing, she took it in for an overhaul, cause she still had too much **** to do. Quilts to make, roses to tend, houses to clean, and family to love. She was one tough old bird, my mom. The very definition of the words as my brother Jeff said. Stubborn and independent. Loving, generous, and giving. She took life’s hard knocks over and over and powered on through. She taught us to do the same. She passed away in her beloved home, where she most wanted to be. She had been puttering in her yard, and cleaning her house. She left us in the place she most wanted to be, doing what she most loved to do. None of us can ask any more.
Farewell mom, I love you always. Pick us out one damn fine Harley for our next ride, shine it up, and have it waiting when I get there, and we’ll take that ride together. All my love, Your baby son, Kelly.
Last edited by flyingace; 05-13-2014 at 09:51 PM.
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