Cycling Diablo

Happy Father's Day! While I wish I could have seen my dad today, I had a great day. And here's the news of the day:

Tracy always seems to underestimate her abilities on the bike, so I thought Mount Diablo would be a good challenge for her. Last week Lou shipped her bike from Georgia, and this was our first weekend to ride together since September, 2008! Trace and I were up at 6am, and our wheels were down at 7am. I was hoping Tracy would summit, but no matter what, it was nice get outside with my girl and get some exercise.

As it turned out, Tracy rocked it! After two hours of climbing (and Tracy chatting the whole way), we topped Diablo at 9am. The views were spectacular. We stopped at the summit for a couple pictures and to call our dads. Before posting the pictures, I should confess something else. On our descent, I hit/ran over a squirrel. It was awful, because I don't think I killed it. It just dragged itself off the road. Sorry little guy. Now to the pictures...

Tracy climbing. The views are ridiculous. If you're reading this, come out and ride!

Getting out early was key, because we beat the heat and the cars. It was a quiet ascent.

Tracy's first ascent of Diablo! I was more excited than she was. In fact, this picture is evidence of that. I said, "Trace, you're doing awesome! I'm going to ride ahead, because I want to get a picture of your summit. You're killing it!" Tracy just nodded and kept peddling. I never thought I'd be that guy who needs that picture, but I'm glad I have this one. All I need now is the fanny-pack.

The person who took this had also cycled Diablo on his bike, except that he was at least 70 years old. We were so impressed. In fact, we witnessed lots of old people climbing as we descended. They were so inspirational.

Classic. Perfect day.

Papa Jim

One week after Father's Day, I will join my family on a boat off the coast of Dana Point, California, and watch the ashes of James Robertson, my papa, dissolve into the salty Pacific. 

The sound of relief, exhaustion, and nasal congestion in my mother's voice tipped me off that his time had come.  

Alzheimer's Disease stole papa's dignity from him in his last years. It stole his memory, his independence, and it stole a peaceful death. No technology and pharmaceutical advancement to date was able to stop the inevitable progression. 

Papa raised four strong, independent women. He was adored by all his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He was a painter and a photographer. He danced anytime he heard music. He ate ice cream, had a mean Donald Duck impression, and dedicated part of his life to the Navy. Although there is so much more to papa than that, I regret to admit that this is all I know of him. I was barely old enough to comprehend before the disease had reduced our relationship to few-hour visits at a nursing home facility. 

 When we release his ashes into the ocean next weekend, I will have to refrain from being jealous of the water for having the chance to be much more intimate with papa than I ever had the chance to.

My heart is broken for my grandmother, my mom, and my aunts. Moreover, my heart is broken for the other 5.3 million Americans who have AD, and their families. 

 

I took this photo outside my grandparents' house in Dana Point, and it hung in his room. It reminds me of Papa because he was always taking beautiful pictures of flowers.

Emotions

The past month has been intense emotionally. Throughout each wedding I witnessed person after person pour their hearts out towards one another. The love of each couple resonated through everyone. During the last wedding, Louie and Naomi's ceremony, that emotion became a more personalized, less vicarious reaction. Reuniting with my home, friends, and relatives was a rush in itself. I watched my mom and dad handle the entire process of giving away a daughter. Then, realizing the change my sister and Lou were experiencing compounded it all. Experiencing those emotions within a four-hour party can be deafening and overwhelming. Only now, a week and a many miles later, have I been able to comprehend the meaning of last week's wedding. In short, I feel closer to my family* and the friends that joined Naomi and Louie. It was certainly representative of all the support they will always have. I will not forget those feelings.

I think all emotions act like that. You experience them, hold on, and only hindsight gives you some grasp of what transpired. And knowing that provides solace when experiencing any overly-emotional time--be it sadness, stress, boredom, or exhilaration. It really speaks to the truth in Tracy's "Velo Rouge" post, and it makes me think differently about the present tense.


*especially with whom I shared late-night karaoke