A Hole A Mile Wide

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Sometimes, writing things down is the only way for me to process things. Complicated emotions, unfinished plans, things that have me scrambling for my footing.

Writing this down doesn’t make any more sense of it, not at all.

Rest in peace, Eddie – you were one of my favorite people, ever. You were so in touch with your inner mischievous four-year-old self, I think you left us all in awe and a little jealous. You and Adam were one of the most devious, clever and fun combinations of any two people life could have put together.

As I’ve been thinking more about Little House on the Prairie lately, naturally, my thoughts turned to you. You are inextricably woven into everything Little House. Even amidst childhood memories, you insert yourself, and I entangle bleary rally visions of historical sites with pages on the books read twenty years before we met.

Eddie had the best laugh

Eddie (grey hair) had the best laugh.

I will never forget the sound of his giggles and belly laughs, the timbre of his voice, or his crazy ability to ride the hell out of any bike he was on. It’s a dangerous business, motorcycles, and sometimes comes with a horrific price.

There is a hole in my heart a mile wide.

I want to send something to his fiance, but I never met her… the idea of Eddie’s fiance is something I can’t wrap my head around, can’t even fathom. That he was going to get married was a small miracle unto itself, but he was and he was happy and now he’s gone.

What the hell do we all do with that?

The headline for the newspaper story appears with “Zoo makes final panda push.” The absurdity of that is something Eddie would have appreciated.

He was a giant freakazoid, all heart and neuroses and mischief and fun and insecurity and schoolgirl-like giggles. God, what a world without him.

One of my favorite memories of Eddie, Adam and me is here: The Tennis Ball Incident. I can’t stand it I’ll never see him again, even though it’s been so long since our eyes met. I can still feel his hugs, see him tilt his head back preemptively as he was about to begin a diatribe or a counterpoint… the enormity of this. I cannot comprehend it.

Come on, snow blanket – cover everything up, soft and dreamlike, turn this into a magical place where all things can be undone.


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4 responses to A Hole A Mile Wide

  1. I’m so sorry for your loss.

  2. Ginny Cook

    Eddie was a wonderful collection of the most amazing “things that should never be said in the same sentence”. He organized controlled insanity, made rules and applauded those who used the parameters of those rules to find ways around them. I’d only met him a few times over the years and did not know him as well as you but enough to know the better you knew him the more difficult it will be knowing he is gone. Condolances to you and the LD rider community.

  3. Lisa Erbes

    This is so beautiful. I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of sympathy from the LD community. I’ve known for a long time these were special folks but this horrific event has solidified it. I need to stay with it and continue to be a part of it. I’m sorry we haven’t met but I’m sure we would have eventually. I hope we still will. Thank you so much for a beautifully written tribute to the most wonderful man I have ever known.


  4. Erin

    Lisa – we’d be hard-pressed to find a more generous, kind and supportive group than the ld riders. These folks will be your family and friends whenever you need them. I hope our paths cross, as well! Thinking of you often, though we’ve never met.

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