The alarm sounded as scheduled, nine minutes before the fifth hour of the day. Too soon I thought, as I punched the snooze button. I finally found the motivation to drag myself out of bed at seven minutes past the hour of five; I used the facilities, grabbed a small bowl of frosted flakes, a glass of water, and I headed out the door. I was going biking to start my day. Once I got on the bike, I felt okay. The stars were still bright in the night sky. The crisp predawn air had a slight chill to it. I hadn’t been biking in quite a while, but this was a step in the right direction for me, as I have been in an emotional spiral for a few months. Exercising had taken a back-seat, until now, or so I thought.

I drove out of my driveway, as the headlight on my bicycle erased the darkness in front. I used a dirt road to connect my route. I had decided I was going to bike the north-east side of town back to the main highway, then come in from the south-side making a big circle around town. I made it to NW Verboort RD, where I turned right entering the paved roadway. I was cruising east when my bicycle ride came to a sudden halt. My front tire found a rut in the roadway, and I failed to steer out of it taking a spill. The fall happened in slow motion. I bounced on the road, my helmet then bounced off the asphalt, and finally I began sliding on the pavement. Eventually I came to a sudden halt where I quickly stood up, grabbed my bike, and headed for the shoulder. My bike’s handlebars were completely crooked; the front tire stuck; my headlight was bent, but on; and traffic wasn’t flowing anymore. There was a queue of vehicles impatiently waiting behind me. However, I was standing erect and breathing.

The roadway was now dark, the pavement was suddenly hard and gravely, traffic was flowing at a high rate of speed, and I was stuck on the shoulder of a busy road. I had failed to realize the amount of traffic using the road I had chosen to bike down. I was shocked, considering it was only 5:45 in the morning. Traffic arrived in waves. As of late, I’ve felt like most of my tasks that I’ve completed have been faced with some sort of difficulty. And, this simple bicycle ride proved no different; I found a way to foul it up. I now had to call my spouse asking for a ride home.

Ever since my mom passed away, life has been harsh. Bruises hurt a little more, while sticking around longer. Accidents have been more frequent. I’ve been making more mistakes than normal, not to mention, making bad choices. Getting up early to exercise before tackling the child’s chores is supposed to be a good decision to make. And somehow, I screwed that up too.

I took comfort in my mother’s presence. Even when life was escaping her, as she laid on her deathbed, I felt comfort knowing she was in the room. Her presence was enough security for me. With her there, I could find relief from the sleepless nights at home. Spending my days in the hospital and my nights awake at her house, while she was dying in the hospital, I would find respite by napping on a bench next to her. The windowsill seat was drafty and cold, as the worst snowstorm in 40 years was blowing outside while my mom was dying. I would wrap myself up in a thin blanket to sleep on that little ledge knowing my mom was with me. And now, that absence is 8 months old.

8 months, and I’m still learning to live with her absence. Learning to make mistakes on my own, and how to overcome them. It’s as is if my mom never taught me those things. But she did. She most certainly did. Maybe, maybe my pain is that of an only child, an only child as an adult, dealing with the sudden loss, sudden as in unexpected. I try to keep moving forward, ever forward, but I keep falling. Now what would she be saying?