RIP TF, III
My fiancé’s dad passed away from injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident last Saturday. He was on vacation heading to California. He made it about halfway before the unthinkable happened. The news media says he failed to negotiate a turn, yet the crash report doesn’t even mention a turn other than it occurred near the exit. From what I can only guess right now, he should have been about ready to take an exit to fill up, so it is possible he was in the turn on the exit ramp (which the damn report should have said). We are going to the funeral tomorrow. After the funeral, I plan on making phone calls to get the secondary report which is supposed to include a diagram of the scene and I also want to see the autopsy report. Most of us are still in a state of disbelief and want to know what happened. He has been riding for 50 years…so it’s hard to believe that he simply made a mistake.
We are all in various stages of grieving. I’m fine one minute, extremely sad and filled with regret the next, and then I’ll deal with flashes of anger.
The regret is for things we didn’t have time to say, for things we won’t be able to say from now on, and for just not having more time with him. He welcomed me into the family and never made me feel left out or overlooked. He appreciated me for me.
The anger…anger at who? No one in particular. Angry at the crash report for stating the accident was in the eastbound lane when he was travelling west…not to mention the news media is reporting westbound lane. Angry that we can’t find a Will – people who matter are not fighting at all…it’s the people who don’t matter who think they are entitled to something. Angry that we had to cremate him before we could say goodbye – do I want to look at the body? No, but sometimes that’s how one can get closure.
He was at our house just last Tuesday, smiling and laughing. He had all his teeth removed in December and just got his new teeth in Thursday. He left in high spirits to go see one of his other sons and to meet up with a brother he hadn’t seen in 28 years.
He sent a text to us at 2:13pm last Friday. It said, “And we’re off.” He also attached a photo of a motorcycle bear that I gave him last year, so “we” meant him and the bear.
I replied, “Cool! Have a safe trip!”
I didn’t say, “We love you,” because I didn’t think about it. My last words seem hollow to me because it was a hurried reply while I was picking up his grandsons from school. I’m upset that I didn’t say more. It just never occurred to me that we might not see him again.
I posted the following on Facebook.