It’s weird when I see Fran’s bike friends go out riding without him.
Like how can you be jealous of a group of people who continue to do what they always did?
But then for a split second you see their pics and you say where is he?
He should be there with them.
Why are they all healthy and riding bikes and he’s not?
What an injustice!
He loved that damn bike.
He was part of a local team, even designed their logo.
Waking up early ready to go.
Dedicating his eating plan to ensure he was fuelled the right way to ride.
Exploring his beautiful region on two wheels with good pals,his favourite thing to do.
Sometimes I wondered if he was pushing himself too hard.
When I broached the subject he wouldn’t hear tell of it.
Insisted it was his joy and could do the 100km easily.
It was a form of competition and challenge for him and he thrived on that, maybe even needed that.
First thing I did when funeral was over was get rid of those bikes.
Sent them to the shop to be sold.
I couldn’t help but think they’d something to do with his heart attack.
I didn’t want them in the house.
Guess, I’ll never really know.
He’s probably cycling away in the afterlife.
Having as much fun as always.
He’d be glad his fellow cyclists still find joy in cycling too.
I see him every time a cyclist passes me on the road, especially when on a turquoise “Bianchi” bike.
It’s like a nod from above just letting me know he’s on the road with me.
In my lower states it’s painful to look at but in general it’s a reminder that he lived in a way he loved.
The day he died he had the 3 things he loved most:
A cycle with the boys, a siesta in bed with the dogs and one last look & kiss with me before he had to leave.