It started about 6 months ago with this post
Becky was the “office mom” at my first real IT Job. We hit it off famously and kept in touch over the years even though I had moved away from NC to GA, FL, back to GA, then finally OR.
She hand made a few Mother’s Day cards for me (she was into that crafty stuff they were cool) because I wanted something special for my Gram.
She worked at a firearms accessories wholesaler later in life and so we talked gun parts.
Her daughter got an English Mastiff puppy back when Leo was still alive so she’d send me pics of the puppy and always be cheerful.
When I was looking at my motorcycle she would always say that she’d have to come out for a ride. We’d go for a root beer.
…sadly the cancer took her. She’d been fighting it for years and after some close calls the doctors said she was in remission. Everyone celebrated…. but a few short weeks later it had struck again and hard. She went though every kind of treatment possible and was always the strongest most upbeat person.
If anyone could have beat cancer, I thought, it’d be Becky.
At the end she was frail, worn down physically, and said she couldn’t take the treatments anymore. They weren’t working… she wanted to spend the remaining hours on this earth with her husband and children.
This world lost Becky a few days after that. It’s been about 6 months now.
Naming my bike Becky was my way of honoring a gun totin’ granny who had a soft spot for big dogs and guys like me.
I miss her words of encouragement and her stories about trying to wrangle “that big ol’ dog” and her grandbabies.
When I get ready to go for a ride on days like today I always pat the tank and say something like “Alright Ms Becky, let’s go see something new”… just in case there is a Heaven and she could hear me.
