It’s fifteen years since we said our farewells in that hospital room.
Your eyes tired and hands weakening, but your spirit undiminished.
I left knowing it was goodbye, unable to say the word, but have told you many things since, when the time has been right.
You passed to me your love of mountains and high places, of steam, hot oil and roaring coal, mechanical skill and empathy for machines.
Unlike you I’m not great with people, that’s why I ride alone.
Or am I?
I feel you with me many days. Days when the high air is crisp and thin, clear enough to glimpse into heaven.
I feel your hand on the throttle with me, easing me back with the gentle persuasion that only a father could give to his restless son. “A ton is enough.” Quietly I hear your silent words.
Blogging University: Blogging 101 Assignment 4