Thursday, September 19, 2013

Remember the Lost


I was remembering someone I've lost on my ride home tonight. I spoke with him a bit, out loud, and it seemed to help. Not that I could hear his voice or anything, but I could strike up a conversation in the tone and manner that we used to speak to one another, and it was comforting, if a bit strange, for me to do it aloud as I rode along on my bicycle on a fine evening. 

These late summer skies and low slanting equinoctical sun rays grab me, shake me a little bit, and remind me that I'm alive, and to make the most of it. Sometimes that's what the ride is about: he had heart problems, and I don't want those, so I should ride good, and far, and happy, to avoid them. That's what all the cloud photos are about, I think. At this particular moment they appear to be a bit inevitable for me, necessary, and apologies if they are growing thin here on the blog.

Tonight remembering the lost, and talking to him, helped me to clear my mind, ease my heart, and lift my spirits, in the remembering of his voice answering mine, in the way that our minds would bend to the other to meet in the middle and across the years that separated us, setting aside our clear differences to spend a few moments in time together with strong mutual understanding coming naturally. Beneath the harvest moon, with the summer winding down, is a natural time for it. Remembering, perhaps gazing at the clouds from my bicycle a bit longer than warranted, perhaps talking aloud with the lost. The loss is still there. But then, I too am still here, I'm reminded by this moment, to honor him with a little bit of joy in that, sometimes. 


*Kevin Berry's "Tributary Wall" sculpture / gabion basket and rusty fish noise wall


  1. Must have been a very good friend indeed.

  2. I never get tired of Arizona's autumnal skies!

  3. Super nice. The clouds aren't wearing thin with me.

  4. Same with me. When I ride my thoughts turn deep and meloncholy and I think of the past and of the future yet to come

  5. thank you for sharing jra. i admire you for being able to openly share with us a brief moment of your special and brave moments. I sincerely, and quite personally - highly appreciate this post
    <3 xxom

  6. Fishing was his thing, and I believe he would have enjoyed this large rusty fish art with its sunset backlighting a lot, maybe pausing on a walk with me in front of it to plan out a fishing trip somewhere. Thank you for your comments. I'm thinking my own yard needs a big old rusty fish in it somewhere. A rusty fish bike rack: the melding of his obsession and mine. Maybe that's a way to channel this missing somewhere constructive.


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