RIP Patrick Joseph Reed

Much too early this morning, Gumby woke me from a goofy sleep. I was pointing the completely wrong way on the bed, waiting for him to come to bed, for a completely different reason.

He pushed me to wake me and growled to come downstairs. I stumbled down the stairs, unable to understand what was going on.

there he sat in the recliner, with a look of such sadness, distraught. His beautiful eyes, completely devastated.

"I got a call from Mom."

I immediately thought something was wrong with his Dad, that the unthinkable had happened. Obviously it was not the unthinkable as I had just thought it, but I froze on the landing.

"Patrick died tonight."

"What?"

"Patrick died tonight, he was in an accident with his motorcycle XXXXXXXXX." (more words I didn't hear).

"WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?"

He repeated it again.

This truly was the unthinkable.

My Patrick. My dear, sweet Patrick. Annoying, infuriating Patrick. He drove me insane and made my heart swell with pride all in the same breath. The man, yes man, that was more responsible than most of the people my age that I know.

I knew he was in full motorcycle gear. I knew he was hyper-aware of his surroundings at all times. I knew there had to be nothing he could do.

I pulled John to the couch and cocooning myself around him and I sobbed. God bless him, in his pain, he let me have my moment.

To which I try to tend to him, but he's not having it. Not ready for that pain. He's a dude, I get it.
So I do what comes natural, I turn into a Tasmanian devil, throwing toys into the toy room, dishes in the dishwasher, you get the general picture.

I ask if he wants to go to his folks, which of course he does. I can't let him drive, so I call my folks at whatever un-Godly hour it was. Left a rambling message on the machine for my Dad to call back ASAP. He calls back and gets Gumby, who bluntly says, "My brother Patrick died, we need to go to my folks, can you come watch the kids?"

Bless my Dad, he hauls himself out rather quickly. Off we go. Fucking freezing last night and with the shock of it all, we were already shaking, so the cold did not help our cause.

We get to my in-laws in short order (OK, there was a minor incident where I made the truck go sideways in the subdivision on the slick snow...opps....I was a bit preoccupied. Then Gumby yelled at me for driving like a "granny". Nice.)

I'm glad we went, but it was awful. My in-laws were understandably in shock. We stayed for a few hours and hobbled home to relieve my Dad.

Patrick was an interesting person. He was a genius. And honest-to-God genius, with some ridiculous IQ. And he was a pain-in-the-ass. He loved to argue debate and had to be right. And he was a spaz as a teen.

But he was freakin' hilarious. Just when you would resign yourself that he had turned into a complete computer geek, he'd come out with something that I'd be laughing about for days.

And he had the world's biggest heart. His ability to love never ceased to amaze me. It was so pure and good. He loved who he loved and he did it with the same intensity he did everything else in life, which is more that most people can say about their lives.

He broke 3 promises to me. The most trivial being, he was going to go skydiving with me. We like to give my MIL some heart palpitations, keeps her young, heh. Unfortunately we never had that chance.

But he promised me he wouldn't die and wouldn't make me cry.

Because when he left for Iraq after he'd come home for a bit, I was beside myself when he left again. I just didn't want him back there. I wanted him home, where he'd be safe.

And he finally had enough of Iraq and was coming home. For at least a year and we could breathe easy. Because, he had survived all the bombing in Iraq, certainly he could handle a small desert town in California.

I want nothing more for my Patrick to be home with us. Giving my children looks that they are some alien force, but he was so patient with Baby Girl as she would talk his ear off and he smartly would interject a "uh-huh" or "wow" at the appropriate moment. They freaked him out at babies, but as they are older now, he interacted on a more comfortable level, knowing he could actually reason to some degree with them.

And then there's his Godson, Little Man. Little Man adored him and would just hang out, watching him playing video games. I have always been so completely pleased with our choice of Godparents. Each suits each child so well. But now Little Man has lost his Godfather. His uncle.

And I can't stop crying.

And I don't know how to tell my children and how to not scar them.

this fucking sucks monkey butt.