"I want you to enjoy your bike."

Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum

Help Support Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum:

This site may earn a commission from merchant affiliate links, including eBay, Amazon, and others.
mca,
Much like RFH and a plethora of others I've followed this thread and where I felt appropriate posted what I could. I must say this has been one of the most difficult threads to read and after a point I had to step away from it, at least while I was at work. I, too have been unable to read this without shedding some tears. I'd like to think that grief shared is grief spared and with that being the case I can only imagine the amount of that load we've all helped spare you. We may never get the chance to meet in real life and I truly believe the loss is mine. You're obviously a man of character and to have been granted the number of years you had with a great woman and a true love is something we can all only hope to be given in this life.

I hope you can regain the joy of riding. I think in time you will.

Take care and be well. Thank you for all you've given all of us. Even the tears.
I feel morally obliged to comment on your post, which echoes others' comments.
I realise I've put a great deal of my heart ache into this thread, many of you have picked up on this, and have been affected by it. There have been other threads in this forum that have dealt with people's losses, I've read some of them and been affected myself, so I am aware of this. I also know that, as readers, we get somewhat hooked on stories that can be emotionally difficult, so to simply say "If you don't like it, don't read it" doesn't really cut it.

Why did I start this thread? Well, I never realised how much I would be affected by these events. She's had major operations before; always these come with a risk. Always I've thought to myself, "How will I cope if she doesn't come out alive?" And I've always answered "I'll just get on with it." But, when faced with the reality, its effects on me have been way beyond anything I could have imagined. I felt the need to scream at someone..

Then, I suppose I don't know anyone on whom I could unload my thoughts and fears. All our family and friends have been badly affected, I didn't want to add my suffering to theirs. There's no way I could tell a stranger, even if they came with a "councillor" tag. And, having started the thread, it's been difficult for me to stop (even if you'd let me - I've been prompted for news when there's been a lull).

I'll add that I've spent a lot of time over writing each posting. Most have been re-written several times, partly because I've found it difficult to put my thoughts into words, partly because, as I've been writing, my thoughts have been clarified, so need a change in what I've written. [edit] also because I've sometimes been too overcome to continue, had to come back after a break. But see "edit" comment
smile.png
[/edit]
Apart from odd spelling or punctuation errors, I've not felt the need to edit any of what I've said, so posting has also helped me get my mind a bit straighter, obviously good.

Overall, has it helped me? I'm sure it has. It's impossible to know by how much, but I suspect quite a lot. It's enabled me to clarify my thinking, even helped with preparing for the final outcome. Some of the comments made here have certainly altered my thinking, mostly for the better. I can't say I have agreed with all of them (I don't think anyone would expect me to), but I do really appreciate every single contribution.

Am I getting over it? Maybe a little. But, I'm welling up just writing this. Words like "the final outcome", although a euphemism, still mean her death. At night, I still find myself waking up and moving an arm or a leg looking for that familiar warmth on the other side of the bed. If I've been out, I come back to the house, open the door, and sometimes have to stop myself calling out "hello" into the emptiness.

There's no doubt that we are improving, but it's obviously going to take a long time.

Once again I thank you all for your thoughts and contributions.

She wants you to go on, ... Is this not the same as you would wish her out of love?
As I posted before, the head knows this, the heart is taking a bit of time to catch up.
So, for putting all of you through this, I truly apologise, it's been very unfair of me, but thank you.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Head and heart work on entirely different planes of consciousness. Anybody over 25 years old who's honest with themselves knows this. And neither the head nor the heart can affect the other ... on pretty much any subject. They're very independent organs.

Take your time. Don't worry about when you'll get over it, or if you'll get over it. Just remember the title of this thread: "I want you to enjoy your bike."

(PS: No one will know -- and therefore no one will care -- if you talk to her, out loud, in your helmet. Just make sure to pull over if you start crying. You can't ride a motorbike while crying. I'm sure I'm not the only one around here who knows that.)

 
Not unfair at all. We are here to help in any way that we can.
Exactly. Think of all the times that you posted in an effort to help someone fix their motorcycle. We are here to do our best to help you "fix" your broken heart. It is obvious that motorcycles are much easier to fix.

You have nothing for which to apologize. We have been privileged to be included in this painful journey with you. I cannot thank you properly for being strong enough to put your pain into words. I can honestly say I have never taken my wife for granted but as this thread has progressed I am certainly making an effort to pay more attention to her. Thank you for that also.

Take your time. Don't worry about when you'll get over it, or if you'll get over it. Just remember the title of this thread: "I want you to enjoy your bike."

(PS: No one will know -- and therefore no one will care -- if you talk to her, out loud, in your helmet. Just make sure to pull over if you start crying. You can't ride a motorbike while crying. I'm sure I'm not the only one around here who knows that.)
That wonderful lady knew you well enough to know that you might need that bike as therapy. She might have been even wiser than you expected. Listen to her.

And you can ride a motorcycle while crying. I have done it more than once. But it isn't safe so do take Hud's advice.

 
So, for putting all of you through this, I truly apologise, it's been very unfair of me, but thank you.
No, thank you for the humanity in your sharing. I am lucky enough to be with the love of my life. And in telling of your love and loss, you have reminded me never to take what I now have for granted, to never fail to appreciate the amazing friendship, beauty, talent, kindness and love that she shares with, and brings to me. Everything in our lives on this planet is temporary. And one day, we will lose one another from our earthly lives. But in your story, you have helped remind me to appreciate every moment I get with her, and to be grateful every day to have her in my arms, in my life, in my heart. So, thank you for what you have shared through this difficult time.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
So, a little more introspection.

It's been two months. (At the moment, everything seems to be timed relative to 20th May 2017.)

Yesterday, wifey's brother (so my bother-in-law) hosted a family barbecue. This is something he's done annually, and invites everyone of "his" family. Luckily for me, I'm still included in that list - both he, and their sister, have told me that I am still very much one of their family.

So, various of their cousins and spouses, my children and grandchildren went.

BIL lives about 110 miles away (or 125 using the faster motorway route). Both my children have been telling me for some weeks that I am to go on my bike. At first, I was reluctant, worrying about concentration levels. Then, a few days ago, rain was forecast, and they said something like "Oh, well, you won't be going on your bike, then". I can be a little contrary at times, so I naturally said "Of course I'm going on the bike".

In the morning the rain was holding off, so the run down was pretty reasonable. Traffic mostly flowed well, and I was using non-motorways, if only to ensure I maintained concentration. Most of the run was on single carriageway roads with enough traffic that I couldn't daydream. (Is there a word for "daytime-nightmare"? Daymare?) Using motorways would save half an hour each way, but that wasn't what I wanted.

Arrived there fine. I can't say I enjoyed the ride as much as I would have normally, but it was pleasant enough. Temperature in the 15-17C (59-63F) range. Much of the trip is through typical English farming countryside, so views were certainly ok. Traffic was light enough that meant overtaking was worthwhile, so that kept me amused.

Parked the bike on his gravel-and-weed drive, I carry a plastic plate to put under the side-stand (yes, I know, I should get a BigFoot). Laid my kit over the saddle, my boots beside the bike, with sufficient foresight to put a plastic bag over them. Used the helmet strap round the rear handhold thingy to keep the top-side up (like in the pic), gloves tucked inside the helmet.

(Click on image for larger view)



After I arrived, I had quite a long chat with the widow of one of wifey's cousins. She'd lost her husband in May last year, so we had a little in common to talk about. They'd been married maybe 35 years, always a happy couple (no children, though), until he protracted cancer of the throat. This was under control, but he collapsed one day with an aneurysm that burst, died within minutes (something to do with his medication, always a risk for him). She, like me, was devastated, and related some of her "progress". She still hasn't got over it.

Anyway, barbecue got going, BIL is a bit of an expert, and had steaks, sausages and sundry other stuff well on the way. Then the rain that had been forecast arrived. Proper, very un-English, tropical downpour type rain, that lasted for a couple of hours. Barbecue was moved under some shelter, and proceeded unabated, but BIL got totally drenched (no-one seemed to want to go out there with him). Anything outside filled with water (including someone's shoes that they left out, filled to the brim.) Everyone kept worrying about my kit getting wet, and me riding in the rain. (They seemed unconvinced when I said I've had full weeks in Scotland when it's rained every day.) I'd carefully draped jacket and trousers (pants) so that the outside was uppermost, and all water would drain off.

Rain had abated somewhat by the time it came for me to leave. So I emptied the water from the plastic bag where it had indented into the top of the boots. All my kit was dry on the inside, so that was good. I put on a sweater under my jacket, it was colder, and the wet always takes more heat away.

The trip back was in rain the whole time, varying from heavy drizzle to steady "proper" English rain, not a nice run, and traffic was much more in the way. Overtaking was trickier, visibility was at best poor, and many of the roads (through typical English farming countryside) had mud on them, so rapid changes of speed and direction were somewhat problematical. I have got new (well, not many miles on them) BT023 tyres front and rear, I had no "moments" at all.

Arrived home. Parked the sodden bike in the garage, hung my kit up to drip. Brought my gloves into the house to dry off - when I had come to put them on, I'd had a lot of trouble getting my damp fingers into their linings, I'd not been sufficiently careful when I took them off). I was perfectly dry. Thank you, Mr Gore. (I do sometimes get water wicking down my front, but not this trip.)

So, coming back wasn't so nice, and concentration levels necessarily precluded any extraneous thoughts. Let alone daymares.

And I was absolutely shattered. I'm hoping this just because I've not slept properly for months, and it isn't my age creeping up on me.

Tomtom recorded the day's riding activities (of course, I don't believe the maximum speed shown):



Normally I would have enjoyed the run. Even in inclement weather I always look back on "difficult" trips as an achievement, if not actually enjoyed at the time. This time it was a bit more of a chore, I'd have been as happy in the car. However, I'm very glad I did it, if I'm to get back to normal motorcycling then I've got to take the opportunities that present themselves.

I'm writing this between dealing with laundry and cooking my lunch. Whilst I often helped her, it was rare that I had to do these things all by myself ...

On her birthday in 2000 - she survives a hot-air balloon "landing".



[edit] Fixed last picture not showing.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Writing is cathartic.

A good friend lost his 35 year old son to a salmon fishing accident while he was on the same crew. He turned to poetry and self published a book that he consigned to any bookstore that would give him shelf space.

It was not to make money, but was to share his love, grief, and recovery.

Perhaps you might find it helpful to write a collection of essays or poems.

Edit: I see you've replaced the post I was responding too and so this note may appear out of context.

You do enjoy writing. It might still be good advice.

Best,

Glen

 
Last edited by a moderator:
A few months is not enough time to get back to normal in situations like yours. It may take a few years and truth be known it will never be normal again. You just learn to cope with it better and remember the good times. You wonder how I would know this? I lost my youngest son 5 years ago. I haven't responded to this post until now. Mostly because I feel your pain also. In time your life will come back or at least it will get better to cope with the loss. You are still in the beginning stages of grieving. If we ever meet I have some other story's to share with you.

I wish you the best, God bless

Dave

 
At a bit of a loose end this morning. Browsing my computer, I came across some pictures I'd taken on a ride some time back:

(Click on image for larger view)



Thought to myself "I've not been along that road for a while".

I looked out of the window, and just at that moment the sun decided to come out from behind a cloud. For the first time in quite a while, my usual reaction happened - "Looks like a good day for a ride".

Well, why not? For the first time in months, I actually felt like going out for a ride, and there were no feelings of guilt.

Grabbed Tomtom, put that spot in as a destination, told it to navigate there with a winding route.

Being a Monday, I expected moderately heavy traffic around, but there wasn't much, it felt more like a Sunday. Possibly we're into the holiday season. Anyway, I could enjoy the roads.

A first for me. I wanted to overtake a car on a winding road where you had to grab your opportunity when it came. Dropped two gears, waited for the right moment, dropped another gear then snapped the throttle open. The front wheel lifted! Immediately I eased the throttle (my skill-set has never yet included doing wheelies), and I swept by three cars (well, why not?). (I'd heard that a YCC-S bike can do a wheelie, but I'd had my doubts. No longer.)

A bit later on, I came across the remains of a music festival ("Y NOT") near a village called Pikehall. Apparently (I learned later) its last day was officially yesterday, but it was totally mud-bound, and yesterday's events were cancelled. However, it was so bad that many people were unable to get out yesterday, and were trying to exit today. Traffic was in total chaos, the road was a country lane, there were coaches waiting for passengers, cars stopped. Took me a while to get by.

Once clear, those thoughts came back - "I'll tell her about the chaos when I get back". Managed to hold back the tears, decided I'd been out enough for today, told Tomtom to find find a route home that wouldn't go back past that congestion.

By the time I got home I was feeling a bit better, overall I'd enjoyed the ride. Progress.

 
Last edited:
Progress, indeed!!

You can still tell her about the ride. I have a feeling she knows already...

Ride on, my friend. Ride on.

 
^^^^ What he said. Sip a beverage and tell her about it. She'd want to hear the story.

 
Today is my birthday. Ye gods, 75. Where has all that time gone?

Barely slept last night, thinking about her, what she might have done for me on my birthday (always unpredictable), particularly when something of a "special" age.

Went to daughter's, all my close family there. She cooked lunch, roast pork (a joint that wifey had put in the freezer in case it was needed over Christmas), stuffing, apple sauce, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and parsnips, broccoli, carrots, sweet corn and cauliflower, followed by lemon cheesecake and fruit salad. Just like her mother might have done.

I didn't go on the bike, the celebratory wine precluded that, I never ride if I've had any alcohol.

Yes, I/we missed her. Some of the time it was a bit painful. I could see daughter nearly in tears at one point, but she kept it back because of her children. As good a time together as we could hope for. Some extra hugs when I left.

I'm now back at home, having a quiet cup of tea.

Maybe a ride tomorrow.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Good stuff, Mac. Here's hoping today is yesterdays tomorrows for you, on many fronts.
Three months to the day since she died. Those tomorrows are still not here, but hopefully they are getting nearer.
Getting into some sort of a routine, though regular bike rides are not yet a part of that. But I am looking forward to a Scotland trip the first week in October. Good roads, good food, pot luck on the weather, and most importantly, good friends. (This thread shows I have many more good friends than I realised, unfortunately I'm unlikely to ride with them.)

I took her to a restaurant for a private celebration a couple of days after our 40th wedding anniversary.



I think she was enjoying the meal. How I miss that smile.

 
Yesterday I drove way out of my way to take my wife to a restaurant many miles from our home. I just happened to take a pic with my phone because she was wearing a smile similar to the one in your pic. My wife was blissfully happy because I had done something "special" for her.

I won't say I learned it completely from this thread but I will say that this thread reminded me very strongly that our time together is limited. This thread has reminded me that it's better to make her happy and have happy memories.

What I am trying to say is that your experiences and your pain are teaching and helping others to be better husbands and better friends. So, thank you for sharing. You are doing good things for us as well as yourself by sharing.

I hope you are getting better and the loneliness is getting easier.

 
Today is a difficult one. It's 48 years to the day since we were married, 4 months to the day since I lost her.

I've been living from day-to-day as I would have done if she was just away for a few days. Not always possible, legal stuff is still ongoing, and household consumables, silly things like soap and washing up fluid that I wouldn't normally have to worry about, need replacing. I've also organised a gardener, she was always very worried about the state of her garden after she was gone.

Then, one of those occasions when it really brings it home to me that she isn't coming back, I'm clearing out her wardrobe. I'm finding this very difficult.

Her clothes I'm giving to the Emergency Air Ambulance, a locally run charity. When she did her voluntary work in the Children's Hospital, she saw children brought in by helicopter, also often spoke with the parents who were invariably extremely grateful for this service. In her last weeks, during the times when she was in the hospital, she would listen out for the helicopters using the hospital roof, and would try to get a glimpse of them through her room window. They seemed take her mind off things.

A few more pics, taken some nine years ago, it was her best friend's 60th birthday, she was helping prepare a buffet meal.

(Click on any image for larger view)

In her friend's kitchen. She would never have tolerated the state of disorder in her own kitchen!



The salmon dish she was working on in the above picture



Some of the buffet laid out



The gannets starting to dive in



Presented with a bouquet as a thanks for her help



 
My mother's mother passed away in her late 60's. My mother's father never adjusted. He lived to age 96. He had very strong Christian faith, so he was always confident that they would be reunited eventually.

Still, his strong faith did not take away the pain of his loss.

You're already doing things that he could not do. Cleaning up. Sharing her useful things with others in need. Figuring out how to cope with tasks that were once off your radar screen.

I think it's a long process, and is never over when the love is true.

A lot of folks would not feel such loss. That you can, and do, is a symptom of life well lived.

Hang in there. Every day is still precious. Your contributions to those around you are still valued. We're all thinking about you.

 
I could not agree with my friend more.

It was a bad day, but you got through it. The sun rose this morning straight out of the East - I saw it with my own eyes. You're doing fine, MCA. It's a marathon, not a sprint.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
I hope you are able to find joy in the anniversary of your wedding to help you deal with the grief of losing her. May we all love as well as you have.

 
Top