Water hastened to the corners of his eyes. The music ended, returning the group to its isolated nocturnal surroundings, where silence captured the indescribable. Try as he might, Doug could arrest the tears no longer. He turned away to wipe them.
He turned on the radio. “Let It Snow” fit neither the sunny day nor his mood, so he jabbed the power button. Enough of Johnny Mathis.
Thirty years of loyal service and hard work have come to this?
A few days ago, when you were at work, she told me again how much she was looking forward to heaven.” The pastor’s pause allowed Doug to digest what he’d said. He didn’t want to hear any of it. What made Rev. Long the gatekeeper to heaven? Doug would rather choose life for Ruth. What would he do without her?
Carmen, his half-sister seemed to be the only other person that kept in touch with him... His beloved wife had died, he'd lost his job after 30 years, and money problems began to grow and grow. Doug Zimmer was at the edge and often wondered just what he had to live for...
Until he found the letters... Carmen had come to help prepare for the funeral and while they were busy, Doug remembered that Ruth had mentioned that she'd left something for him... Right then he needed to find whatever it was! Hands shaking, he pulled out a cover letter:
Dearest Douglas,
I’ve not felt well in quite some time, but only last week was I diagnosed with cancer. It’s so sad to think of leaving you. Though life is ending for me, that doesn’t mean it is for you too.Inside this envelope you will find notecards, each labeled with a destination. When you’re ready, I want you to travel to each place, unseal its envelope, and read what’s inside. Please don’t read them beforehand because they’ll lose all meaning. I wrote these notes to encourage you after I’m gone.I’m so thankful for the years we spent together. May you find this “scavenger hunt” liberating. I love you so deeply.
Affectionately, Ruth
A tear dropped from Doug’s cheek onto Ruth’s stationery. He pressed the sheet of paper against his pant leg to absorb the moisture before placing the note and unopened envelopes back into the drawer. Traveling was the furthest thing from his mind. Then he burst into sobs.
It would take quite some time for Doug to again think of the packet that Ruth had left for him. How could he even think of just taking off, on his own, at the age of 60... And on a bike!
The thoughts just kept coming back and finally he went to a bike store to consider and learn what that type of adventure would actually require. And while he considered what was ahead for him, he began to again enjoy taking his bike out for rides on a routine basis... In fact, riding had become the only joy that he had left, it seemed...
~~~~
My brother was the only one of four children in my family who had a bike. He had won it at an annual company picnic which we all attended as invited by our favorite uncle... We were too poor to actually buy a bike. For me, I'd rather enjoy long walks anyway, where I could stop and read a little, LOL, before I headed back home. But times were different back then and I lived in a small town where it was safe to be out roaming the hills or walking along the Monongahela River near the New Geneva lock...
Doug, too, had a regular bike like my brother but when he started thinking about riding long distances, he wasn't sure his age would allow it for him, so he bought a new one just for the trip! He refused, when he finally decided to go, to tell anybody where he was going or what he would be doing--after all, his plans were all concealed from even him. He had a new bike which he felt he could manage and so he was ready. And opened the first destination to discover the destination toward which he would start his adventure! And arrived at the Santa Monica Pier toward evening!
That afternoon Doug cycled toward the Santa Monica pier. He and Ruth had enjoyed a sunset ride on the Ferris wheel there several years ago. A resurgent longing for his wife wrestled with the anticipation of breaking free from his sorrow. He crossed the busy street and entered the pier parking lot. The glistening waters of the Pacific Ocean lapped the beach, seagulls cawing overhead. From the seat of a bicycle, the ocean seemed more spectacular than he remembered. Adrenaline shot through his body. He could wait no longer. After leaning his rig against a concrete abutment, he dove into a pannier, pulled out Ruth’s first card, and fumbled to tear it open.
My Dear Douglas,
Our first date. I remember vividly how the Ferris wheel stopped when we were at the very top, rocking back and forth as we looked out over the ocean, the full moon’s reflection twinkling on the waters. When you put your arm around me and pulled me close, my heart leaped for joy. It was the beginning of a beautiful journey.
Thank you for that special beginning, Douglas.
Beautiful things in life have a beginning but also an end. Yet they can live on in your memory. Savor them but don’t allow them to hold you hostage. Let the wheel before you represent your inner circle. Sometimes the wheel stops, and someone gets off. In time more will climb aboard. Welcome your new passengers. Carmen is a wonderful person already occupying the next seat down. Cherish her—and others who are forever connected to you, even though they may be several seats away. You’re not alone, Darling.
Yours always.
Lovingly, Ruth
Lord, thank You for the loved ones You have given and will give Douglas. May he embrace them with joy and appreciation. Amen.
I had thought, at first, that I might take the entire trip on my blog for all of you, but decided that was too personal a story to be revealed unless you read the book. This was such a thoughtful and meaningful act for Ruth to make, don't you think? I remember in th past, at least with one friend, I got little note cards and wrote something for everyday that he would be away on a trip. There are so many ways to show your love for others, isn't there? Does it really have to wait until a farewell of death? I don't think so.
“I’m not sure. I know God is real, and He does love us. The Bible says ‘God is love.’ I read it every day. It helps me understand God and what He expects of me.
He looked in his mirror and doubled down on his grips. The accompanying pickup truck approached quickly, its blaring music getting louder and louder. The driver goosed the accelerator as he passed within a foot of Doug, leaving him coughing in a black cloud of noxious fumes. The driver waved in his rearview mirror before his head flew back in laughing hysteria, his right arm flailing. Doug vented with a few choice words for the idiot. Trailing up the hill behind the pickup were echoes of “Flirtin’ with Disaster” by Molly Hatchet, one of Doug’s party songs from yesteryear. Rather than give in to fear or anger, this time the near miss reinforced a call to vigilance. Doug squeezed the handgrips and checked his mirror frequently for whatever vehicles would overtake him.
And that proved to be true for Doug because as he started traveling further and further, he learned that there were many bicyclists on all kinds of bikes that he would routinely meet in placed where biking was allowed and of interest. I must admit that I help my breath as Doug encountered his first big rig flying by him while he was riding near a main road. This adventure can, actually, be very dangerous and will occur before the end of the book...
But the first friend he found was a young woman who carried her violin on her bike with her... So, of course, when I found her playing a song I love, I had to share it! Apparently there are many bikers who take off as a single or in groups and Doug was to meet this young lady several times as they traveled either together or moving on and meeting later... But nobody expected the accident that would occur as the book near its ending... And the violin was part of the rescue work. And Doug was right there helping...
If you are a individual who is a bicyclist, enjoys watching reality shows, or are sentimental about somebody you love, this just may be a book you'll enjoy! Do check it out! Me, I was in to it for the memories of lost love.
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