I finally broke down and picked up a new pair of skates. My last pair were blown out after about a season and a half. I was over due.
As I prepped the new skates to get broken in, I looked at the naked white housing that holds the skate blade to the boot. You see, when Anthony passed, I added a black strip of hockey tape that encircled the heel of the housing to my old skates. As a hockey player through and through, it seemed like the right thing to do. The same pieces of black tape encircle the seat tubes of my bikes.
Every time I put my skates on, I pause for a moment and reflect on memories of my friend. I often touch the piece of tape as my homage to my lost friend. And it isn't sad thoughts, it's just a chance to remember.
Remember him.
Remember friendship.
Remember that life goes on.
But with the new skates I began to wonder how long the mourning process really is. Anthony is still in my thoughts. We all miss him and are getting to the point where we can laugh, joke and smile when we conjure up his memory.
Quite simply, I'm not ready to stop mourning. A close, close friend...my spiritual guide...pointed out that mourning has to last for four seasons. Until you make it that year and see the circle of life, see the fact that life goes on, you can't let go of mourning for that spirit. And this makes sense to me. It is more than religion, it is simply a way to keep myself on track over the course of the next year. It keeps my eyes open to birth, growth, decline and death.
Most of all, it let's me miss my friend.
I saw him in Vegas at Interbike. Probably not more than a few minutes after a fleeting thought passed through my head that this was the first trade show he had missed and that I hadn't brought a part of him to Vegas with me.
Instead, one of our partners brought him. There was a video playing at the Fox Suspension booth. As I paused to watch it, I realized it was showing clips from a press camp that Anthony had attended earlier this year. I was seeing shots of a race truck he got to ride in and take pictures of. As soon as the realization passed, I saw a shot with the Yeti demo truck in the background as confirmation. And then, a shot of Anthony setting up a bike.
I sat stunned with my eyes welling up (they well up now as I write this). At the same time, I was so happy to have had a chance to see him again. I'm sure the folks who put together the video have no idea of the significance of those shots.
To me, they were a suitable memorial to our friend.
As I prepped the new skates to get broken in, I looked at the naked white housing that holds the skate blade to the boot. You see, when Anthony passed, I added a black strip of hockey tape that encircled the heel of the housing to my old skates. As a hockey player through and through, it seemed like the right thing to do. The same pieces of black tape encircle the seat tubes of my bikes.
Every time I put my skates on, I pause for a moment and reflect on memories of my friend. I often touch the piece of tape as my homage to my lost friend. And it isn't sad thoughts, it's just a chance to remember.
Remember him.
Remember friendship.
Remember that life goes on.
But with the new skates I began to wonder how long the mourning process really is. Anthony is still in my thoughts. We all miss him and are getting to the point where we can laugh, joke and smile when we conjure up his memory.
Quite simply, I'm not ready to stop mourning. A close, close friend...my spiritual guide...pointed out that mourning has to last for four seasons. Until you make it that year and see the circle of life, see the fact that life goes on, you can't let go of mourning for that spirit. And this makes sense to me. It is more than religion, it is simply a way to keep myself on track over the course of the next year. It keeps my eyes open to birth, growth, decline and death.
Most of all, it let's me miss my friend.
I saw him in Vegas at Interbike. Probably not more than a few minutes after a fleeting thought passed through my head that this was the first trade show he had missed and that I hadn't brought a part of him to Vegas with me.
Instead, one of our partners brought him. There was a video playing at the Fox Suspension booth. As I paused to watch it, I realized it was showing clips from a press camp that Anthony had attended earlier this year. I was seeing shots of a race truck he got to ride in and take pictures of. As soon as the realization passed, I saw a shot with the Yeti demo truck in the background as confirmation. And then, a shot of Anthony setting up a bike.
I sat stunned with my eyes welling up (they well up now as I write this). At the same time, I was so happy to have had a chance to see him again. I'm sure the folks who put together the video have no idea of the significance of those shots.
To me, they were a suitable memorial to our friend.
1 comment:
"It keeps my eyes open to birth, growth, decline and death."
That is what gets me, there was no decline; just death...
Cheers to you for still writing about him. September was a hard, hard month, see him go in a beautiful place where now him and his father share.
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