Number 48: Borrow a motorcycle and take the driver's seat. (Or don't. Here's why.)

When I was a little girl, I vividly remember there being a blue matted, silver framed photo of a man's silhouette on a motorcycle hanging on the wall in our den. I remember my mind being blown when I discovered that it was my father! How could my dad have ever ridden a motorcycle? My silly, sweet father on a motorcycle?! No way! Well, as I grew older, the idea of my dad's motorcycle riding days shocked me less and less. He is a fun loving, free spirited man who was once in his twenties too.

Whatever the reason he decided to sell his bike, I'm sure glad he did. I did some research this week, and I discovered that from 1994-2008, motorcycle fatalities increased every year by a staggering amount. Fortunately, due to a number of new laws that made motorcyclists pass a safety class and wear helmets, motorcycle deaths have decreased significantly between 2008 and 2011. But here's the kicker -- all of the laws, facts and figures I could track down regarding motorcycle fatalities, put the cyclists at fault. But, for all of the safety precautions you can take (the lessons, the helmets, the speed limits), there are so many factors that you can't control.

And here my friends, is why I won't be completing Number 48 on my list. Last Saturday night, I received a heartbreaking phone call. A good friend of mine was driving home on his motorcycle and was hit by an oncoming car. The car was headed in the wrong direction, in the wrong lane and hit Dan and another car. Dan did not survive the crash. Getting the call that a loved one has passed on is about the most surreal thing you can experience. You hear the news and it doesn't feel real. I guess this is the shock - the tears and the grief come later. I was in South Bend, IN, when I got the news, less than two hours away from my new home in Chicago, and too many miles away to head home for the funeral. The idea of being so far away from home hit me then. All I wanted to do was give my best friend (and Dan's first cousin) a hug and I was unable to do so. I've been grappling with how to deal with the news for the past week, and it wasn't until my third or fourth phone call to a high school friend about the news that it hit me -- in a beautifully sad way, Dan was already bringing us all back together from above. In receiving, relaying, and trying to make sense of the news, I spoke with many people I had lost touch with in the past years. And Dan's passing made me realize something very important, life is so short, and you can never predict what is around the next bend, all you can do is live in the moment and appreciate the small things.

To those bikers out there, I'm not trying to scare you. And I'm not starting a crusade against motorcycle riding. Dan traveled across the United States on his bike and enjoyed only open road and beautiful memories. This was an unfortunate, isolated incident that happened within a few minutes of his apartment. But what I say to you all is this, (and thanks, Uncle Mike, for letting me paraphrase you -- my mom relayed your eulogy to me), life is a story and you never know what part of the story you're living. So live it proudly and fully. Dan Haley was one of the kindest people I've ever met. He was always there with an encouraging smile, a joke, and a lending hand. To honor him, I ask you that you do one nice thing for another person this week. Just one small thing. Whether it's calling an old friend, giving a stranger a compliment, or telling the man sitting next to you at Starbucks that he's dropped his glasses on the floor and is in danger of stepping on them (This just happened to me five minutes ago - he was so gracious and thankful!) -- do one thing today, tomorrow, or this week. It will make you feel good and it will make someone else's day better too. And above all, please be careful when you get behind the wheel, mount your bike, or cross the street. You never know who is traveling along with you and you can't control the actions of other people.

Sending love to you all, near and far today. xoxo.
E

Saying goodbye to Emma's basement, Aug. 2011. RIP DH. We'll always remember the good times. xoxo.