The Story
Why are we doing this?
Early in the morning of August 25, 2015, I was wakened by Lisa, who was handing me my phone with words to the effect, ‘You need to call your parents. They tried to call us both a a couple of times.’
Calls before 630am are rare for most people unless there is an emergency. Our family and life was no different. I started to call my mom assuming something was wrong with my younger sister, Anne. Anne had been having seizures since about 1990. Sometimes, her seizure activity would increase dramatically and she would need to go to the hospital. At one point a couple years prior to this day, her body started rejecting her anti-seizure medications to the point that she was in a coma for over a week. So, while calls like this were awful they weren’t unexpected. They were usually just updates from my rightfully worried parents.
Not that morning.
My mom answered and simply said, with a quiver in her voice, “Sean, Anne is dead.”
Losing an older loved one or family friend was nothing new to me. They were lost from cancer or the cumulative effects of old age and other health conditions. These occasions were sad but sometimes the end is inevitable and even if you don’t have a chance to say a final “goodbye” the eventuality leaves you reasonably prepared. I had experienced sudden loss of someone I’d called friend before. But that was over 20 years before and while this person was a friend, she was not my sister. Loss is always sad, otherwise we would have a better word for it.
No other loss prepared me for the knife to the heart that morning. I screamed “No!”
During the ensuing hours, there were many more phone calls to my parents, my older sister, and informing friends and family of the horrible news. I walked around in a haze while trying to pack for a sudden trip to Michigan and a funeral. I remember telling Lisa, “We have to bring the bikes.”
I’m sure in my addled state I was thinking more about the century ride we had coming up in Mackinaw City, MI in September and not wanting our training to lapse. Yes, it seems like an odd thing to focus on at such a time. But to say my thoughts that morning were all over the place is an understatement. I would find myself at times just sitting on the stairs because…
Regardless of the why, we packed the bikes on top of the car which was crammed with clothes for at least a week.
Over the next 10 or so days, three things kept me from going nuts or crawling inside a bottle: Lisa, some of my oldest and dearest friends, and a few bike rides with Lisa. We never went far, 20-30 miles, but each time the ride made it easier to not focus on Anne’s death for a little while. Being out in the country and just keeping the pace wasn’t anything so grand as my salvation, but it was a fantastic distraction.
We did complete that century ride in September. I think I teared up a couple of times thinking of Anne. But we finished.
In the two years since Anne was suddenly gone, I’ve ridden several thousand miles on my bicycle, usually with Lisa just in front of or behind me. I do it to feel good. I do it for fun. And I do it to focus on something that isn’t work or my first world problems. I do it because I can.
There isn’t a day since 8/25/15 that I haven’t thought of Anne. Sometimes it makes me feel incredibly sad not to have her calling or texting to give me a ration of shit. Not that I wouldn’t do so in return. Hell, my last text to her was “I told you so.” How good of a big brother was I? Other times I laugh thinking about what a funny pain in the ass my little sister was.
At some point after the first anniversary of her death, I realized I needed to do something to honor Anne in a big and public way. I went through several ideas and finally landed on a self-supported mini-tour of Michigan to raise money for research into the thing that took Anne in her sleep: Sudden Death In Epilepsy(SUDEP). There are many people younger and older than Anne was, 35, who deal with various levels of seizure activity. No one should have to die from having a seizure. The loftier goal is to find a cure for epilepsy.
This mini-tour will take Lisa, myself, and whoever chooses to join us, to 5 different breweries in Michigan. Along the way, we will surely have some fun. We will also talk to anyone who cares to listen about Anne and why we are riding. Maybe we’ll find others who deal with epilepsy or their caregivers. Maybe we’ll just raise awareness for epilepsy.
What we will do is ride and enjoy the peace of it.
Early in the morning of August 25, 2015, I was wakened by Lisa, who was handing me my phone with words to the effect, ‘You need to call your parents. They tried to call us both a a couple of times.’
Calls before 630am are rare for most people unless there is an emergency. Our family and life was no different. I started to call my mom assuming something was wrong with my younger sister, Anne. Anne had been having seizures since about 1990. Sometimes, her seizure activity would increase dramatically and she would need to go to the hospital. At one point a couple years prior to this day, her body started rejecting her anti-seizure medications to the point that she was in a coma for over a week. So, while calls like this were awful they weren’t unexpected. They were usually just updates from my rightfully worried parents.
Not that morning.
My mom answered and simply said, with a quiver in her voice, “Sean, Anne is dead.”
Losing an older loved one or family friend was nothing new to me. They were lost from cancer or the cumulative effects of old age and other health conditions. These occasions were sad but sometimes the end is inevitable and even if you don’t have a chance to say a final “goodbye” the eventuality leaves you reasonably prepared. I had experienced sudden loss of someone I’d called friend before. But that was over 20 years before and while this person was a friend, she was not my sister. Loss is always sad, otherwise we would have a better word for it.
No other loss prepared me for the knife to the heart that morning. I screamed “No!”
During the ensuing hours, there were many more phone calls to my parents, my older sister, and informing friends and family of the horrible news. I walked around in a haze while trying to pack for a sudden trip to Michigan and a funeral. I remember telling Lisa, “We have to bring the bikes.”
I’m sure in my addled state I was thinking more about the century ride we had coming up in Mackinaw City, MI in September and not wanting our training to lapse. Yes, it seems like an odd thing to focus on at such a time. But to say my thoughts that morning were all over the place is an understatement. I would find myself at times just sitting on the stairs because…
Regardless of the why, we packed the bikes on top of the car which was crammed with clothes for at least a week.
Over the next 10 or so days, three things kept me from going nuts or crawling inside a bottle: Lisa, some of my oldest and dearest friends, and a few bike rides with Lisa. We never went far, 20-30 miles, but each time the ride made it easier to not focus on Anne’s death for a little while. Being out in the country and just keeping the pace wasn’t anything so grand as my salvation, but it was a fantastic distraction.
We did complete that century ride in September. I think I teared up a couple of times thinking of Anne. But we finished.
In the two years since Anne was suddenly gone, I’ve ridden several thousand miles on my bicycle, usually with Lisa just in front of or behind me. I do it to feel good. I do it for fun. And I do it to focus on something that isn’t work or my first world problems. I do it because I can.
There isn’t a day since 8/25/15 that I haven’t thought of Anne. Sometimes it makes me feel incredibly sad not to have her calling or texting to give me a ration of shit. Not that I wouldn’t do so in return. Hell, my last text to her was “I told you so.” How good of a big brother was I? Other times I laugh thinking about what a funny pain in the ass my little sister was.
At some point after the first anniversary of her death, I realized I needed to do something to honor Anne in a big and public way. I went through several ideas and finally landed on a self-supported mini-tour of Michigan to raise money for research into the thing that took Anne in her sleep: Sudden Death In Epilepsy(SUDEP). There are many people younger and older than Anne was, 35, who deal with various levels of seizure activity. No one should have to die from having a seizure. The loftier goal is to find a cure for epilepsy.
This mini-tour will take Lisa, myself, and whoever chooses to join us, to 5 different breweries in Michigan. Along the way, we will surely have some fun. We will also talk to anyone who cares to listen about Anne and why we are riding. Maybe we’ll find others who deal with epilepsy or their caregivers. Maybe we’ll just raise awareness for epilepsy.
What we will do is ride and enjoy the peace of it.
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