Why do we put so much emphasis on anniversaries? We celebrate the anniversary of almost everything and sometimes even make up stuff to annually celebrate.
I know - it's supposed to be a time to celebrate, remember, reflect and give thanks. But it is so ingrained in our makeup that we end up marking these dates even when we don't want to.
I have written and stated endlessly and I think it is fairly obvious to anyone who knows me - that I don't go more than seconds without Eddie being on my mind. He is so much a part of me that it's as if he inhabits my body.
So I don't need an anniversary to stop and reflect on how much I miss him.
Leading up to December 6th I had planned to breeze right through it. Head down, focus on work. Just another day. As I drifted off to sleep on Wednesday night, I thought, "I've got this. I'll be fine."
I woke up Thursday morning and was practically immobile and overcome with emotions. Emotions that I am typically able to hold in line. It was clear rather quickly that it wasn't just another day and my heart and mind were not going to let me breeze right through it.
I lay there for almost an hour and wondered how I should spend the day. Work was out of the question but I knew I didn't want to lie in that bed all day feeling like shit.
And then it came to me - go for a ride. A very long ride. Try to find some bonus material (you never know when it will come in handy). Find roads I've never traveled before.
And that's exactly what Jake and I did. Since I'm not the numbers person Eddie was, I didn't track my mileage. I filled up the gas tank in LaGrange and didn't print a receipt. I just drove and turned when I felt like it.
Eddie and I loved to explore cemeteries. So I explored a few. And then I went in search of family graves. My maternal grandmother's family cemetery has become elusive to me. I've been there once before and remember what it looked like but after several attempts I can't seem to locate it. There is so much Carson family history there and I want to take pictures of every stone.
But while I didn't find the Carsons I did manage to stumble upon my grandfather's family plot. We know very little about the Norton side of the family. I wasn't looking for it but all of a sudden, there it was. I don't even know how I got there. Pictures were taken, way-point was marked. I won't lose this place again.
The urge to turn left instead of right. The need to follow the road a little further. Something or someone led me there.
By 5:30pm me and Jake were back home in Vinings. And I felt good. Really good. Something about a long drive (or ride) manages to clear the head like nothing else. It is something described by long distance motorcyclists when they try to articulate why they do what they do. They call it "helmet time". Decompress, alone with your thoughts. Or maybe not thinking at all.
Long before I was introduced to long distance riding I would take off by myself for really long drives. Especially during times of stress. No radio, no Sirrius, no talking. Just me and the machine - exploring.
So maybe I can't keep myself from marking this sad anniversary every year. Like everything else about Eddie's death, I accept that. But I think I've figured out a great way to pass the time on that day.
And it is a way that Eddie himself would understand more than any other. It is exactly how he coped with stress and sadness. And at the end of the ride, he always felt better.
We mark another year of him being gone. Yet his spirit is just as strong as ever. I am sure there are some who think I dwell on Eddie too much. As I wrote above, he lives within me and always will. I think it is a beautiful thing and I have become a better person for it.
How many years will go by before the date fades from memory? Who knows?
It's just a number.
I know - it's supposed to be a time to celebrate, remember, reflect and give thanks. But it is so ingrained in our makeup that we end up marking these dates even when we don't want to.
I have written and stated endlessly and I think it is fairly obvious to anyone who knows me - that I don't go more than seconds without Eddie being on my mind. He is so much a part of me that it's as if he inhabits my body.
So I don't need an anniversary to stop and reflect on how much I miss him.
Leading up to December 6th I had planned to breeze right through it. Head down, focus on work. Just another day. As I drifted off to sleep on Wednesday night, I thought, "I've got this. I'll be fine."
I woke up Thursday morning and was practically immobile and overcome with emotions. Emotions that I am typically able to hold in line. It was clear rather quickly that it wasn't just another day and my heart and mind were not going to let me breeze right through it.
I lay there for almost an hour and wondered how I should spend the day. Work was out of the question but I knew I didn't want to lie in that bed all day feeling like shit.
And then it came to me - go for a ride. A very long ride. Try to find some bonus material (you never know when it will come in handy). Find roads I've never traveled before.
And that's exactly what Jake and I did. Since I'm not the numbers person Eddie was, I didn't track my mileage. I filled up the gas tank in LaGrange and didn't print a receipt. I just drove and turned when I felt like it.
Eddie and I loved to explore cemeteries. So I explored a few. And then I went in search of family graves. My maternal grandmother's family cemetery has become elusive to me. I've been there once before and remember what it looked like but after several attempts I can't seem to locate it. There is so much Carson family history there and I want to take pictures of every stone.
But while I didn't find the Carsons I did manage to stumble upon my grandfather's family plot. We know very little about the Norton side of the family. I wasn't looking for it but all of a sudden, there it was. I don't even know how I got there. Pictures were taken, way-point was marked. I won't lose this place again.
The urge to turn left instead of right. The need to follow the road a little further. Something or someone led me there.
By 5:30pm me and Jake were back home in Vinings. And I felt good. Really good. Something about a long drive (or ride) manages to clear the head like nothing else. It is something described by long distance motorcyclists when they try to articulate why they do what they do. They call it "helmet time". Decompress, alone with your thoughts. Or maybe not thinking at all.
Long before I was introduced to long distance riding I would take off by myself for really long drives. Especially during times of stress. No radio, no Sirrius, no talking. Just me and the machine - exploring.
So maybe I can't keep myself from marking this sad anniversary every year. Like everything else about Eddie's death, I accept that. But I think I've figured out a great way to pass the time on that day.
And it is a way that Eddie himself would understand more than any other. It is exactly how he coped with stress and sadness. And at the end of the ride, he always felt better.
We mark another year of him being gone. Yet his spirit is just as strong as ever. I am sure there are some who think I dwell on Eddie too much. As I wrote above, he lives within me and always will. I think it is a beautiful thing and I have become a better person for it.
How many years will go by before the date fades from memory? Who knows?
It's just a number.
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