Do you see the cow too?
It’s never good news when awakened by a phone call at midnight.
One of my oldest and dearest friends passed away on Sunday night. I never went back to sleep.
I felt physically and emotionally exhausted on Monday morning. There were people to call and meetings to cancel. There were plans to be made. I couldn’t concentrate.
About noon, I just wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep, but instead, I went for a ride.
My legs felt heavy as I turned the pedals. I meandered up and down streets in my neighborhood, never venturing very far from home. My thoughts wandered and tears ran down my face.
I turned the corner of a street I had never been on before and spotted two cows on a front lawn up ahead. And I laughed out loud.
Do you have a story that is told and re-told every time friends get together? You know, one that becomes the folklore of your friendship?
Yeah, that story…
We were together in Santa Fe, and it was New Year’s Eve. We were heading home to his place up in Tesuque after another friend’s party and I was a little tipsy. Vodka and altitude can do funny things to one’s perception, you know. Luckily, he was driving.
It’s very dark at night once you’re out of town. Very dark. All of a sudden we came across a cow in the middle of the road. Just standing there, illuminated only by our headlights, looking at us. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to Santa Fe, but it’s not exactly farm country. Seeing a cow was unusual to say the least. Seeing a cow at midnight on New Year’s Eve in the road was beyond my comprehension at that moment.
I turned to my friend and asked, “Paul, do you see the cow too?”
To which he responded in his classic deadpan manner, “Yes, Suzanne, I see it too.”
And we laughed our asses off. In fact, we could hardly get underway again because we couldn’t stop laughing.
So when I saw these cows on Monday, once again I could hardly believe my eyes. It was if he was talking to me. Reassuring me that yes, he did see the cow, and please, take comfort in decades of memories. Remember the laughter and tell the story. Again.
My heart is broken and I miss him terribly.
But I’m very happy I went for that ride.
– Suzanne
I am sorry for your loss, and am touched by your story. Keep him around in your memories.
Thank you for that story. Funny and heartfelt.
Big hug to you Suzanne.
Thanks Daniel. The virtual hugs I’ve received have meant more to me than you know
Beautiful my dear. Beautiful.
Sorry to hear about the loss of your friend. A beautiful story thanks for sharing it. Our departed friends and loved ones continue to live, in our memories.
Thanks Bob. So happy we have memories to keep us going
So sorry for your loss, but the cows, well, brilliant. I do think they were a sign.
indeed! I couldn’t see it any other way…thanks for reading
I am so very sorry for your loss, Suzanne. Yep, when I ride I usually have a few stories stories running through my head too. Memories that seem like dreams that are re-awaken for some reason I can’t really figure out. The mind is wonderful and awesome and never ceases to amaze me. Riding seems to be a catalyst for the playback for me and possibly for you as well. Memory recall may be your minds way of helping you work through your loss. It sounds like you had a good ride and connected with some fond memories that helped you feel just a little better. Great post.
thank you so much. your kind words mean a great deal to me
Sorry to hear about this, Suzanne. Like most rides, it was exactly what you needed and I have no doubt that those cows were a sign from your friend. His way of saying goodbye. Beautiful post.
thanks my friend. always good to ride and write