Dying the American Way
Summer’s warm wind whistles in his ears, tugs at his t-shirt and cools his bronzed, beautiful body as he flies on those two wheels down the straight towards home. I believe I feel him, I do: Exhilarated, whole, carefree and lucky that life led him here.
Living the American Dream, our American Adventure.
In an instant he is dead: lying crumpled, crushed and broken at the side of the road.
Little time for pain, for reflection, for shock, horror, love or remembrance.
He died the American Way, happy and free, living the dream.
In this I truly believe
He was called to this country, to be part of the dream, of a team, to use his skills and his knowledge. I followed here because in him I believed. I still believe.
Doing and seeing all that we could, his hard work, enthusiasm and dedication opening up doors to so much new and exciting, so much life to live. And we were living it.
I believe in his being here, our being here, to be part of this great USA.
I believe he wanted it, he loved it, and he died doing it.
Living the Dream.
Luxuriating in the Dream.
In this I believe.
The Dream, Jeremy’s Dream, should be for all to live:
And Dying the American way, free, happy and whole, should be for all also…those here and abroad, those called, those that follow, those that stay behind.
To die with full heart and joyful spirit and hoping no one grieves.
Not wanting the tears, nor to cause pain or invite regrets.
This was Jeremy’s way.
And doing it this way, my Jeremy’s way.
Dying the American Way.
In this, I do believe.
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