Tragedy
Some pains are beyond words.
A week ago, Piper Forsen, daughter of my friends Rich and Nathalie, died in a motorcycle accident. She was 23. She was riding her newly purchased Suzuki motorcycle and, it appears, speeding. She missed a curve and hit the road’s guard rail. She survived a few moments but died on the way to the hospital.
I think of her constantly, of her parents whom I love, of the overpowered bike she had no business riding at night on a Minnesota highway that, according to news sources, had already claimed many young lives.
I’ve known Piper her entire life. She was one of the smartest kid I’d ever encountered, and I remember her father Rich’s amazement as Piper and I discussed the brutalist architecture of Ukraine, from where I’d just returned. That was a few years ago. She loved flying and got her license to do so early, then went to school to further her aim of piloting commercial planes. She was a musician, a collector of old typewriters, cameras and sewing machines. She was a photographer, and a passionate advocate of LGBTQIA rights. She spoke French and Italian, her mother’s native tongues and was seldom short of opinions. She had lots of friends.
I learned of her death and felt as if bricks had been dropped on my chest. A week later, I remain in denial. How could such a vibrant young person’s future be denied her? What’s the point of such a tragic loss? I waver between a bottomless sadness and a furious anger at her for purchasing and using a machine so overpowered it should never have been sold to an inexperienced rider.
I wonder, too, at the cruelty of fate. I weep for her and her parents. I don’t know how to provide comfort, how to help them bear this unspeakable burden
No amount of time can fully heal such a wound. Her death will leave a terrible scar upon those of us who loved her, and the lucky few who, even for a short time, benefitted from knowing her.
Perhaps later there will be more to write about Piper. For now, I’m left with the struggle to accept her death, and wonder at what she might have accomplished had she remained with us. She had much more still to do, I know. Much, much more.
A week ago, Piper Forsen, daughter of my friends Rich and Nathalie, died in a motorcycle accident. She was 23. She was riding her newly purchased Suzuki motorcycle and, it appears, speeding. She missed a curve and hit the road’s guard rail. She survived a few moments but died on the way to the hospital.
I think of her constantly, of her parents whom I love, of the overpowered bike she had no business riding at night on a Minnesota highway that, according to news sources, had already claimed many young lives.
I’ve known Piper her entire life. She was one of the smartest kid I’d ever encountered, and I remember her father Rich’s amazement as Piper and I discussed the brutalist architecture of Ukraine, from where I’d just returned. That was a few years ago. She loved flying and got her license to do so early, then went to school to further her aim of piloting commercial planes. She was a musician, a collector of old typewriters, cameras and sewing machines. She was a photographer, and a passionate advocate of LGBTQIA rights. She spoke French and Italian, her mother’s native tongues and was seldom short of opinions. She had lots of friends.
I learned of her death and felt as if bricks had been dropped on my chest. A week later, I remain in denial. How could such a vibrant young person’s future be denied her? What’s the point of such a tragic loss? I waver between a bottomless sadness and a furious anger at her for purchasing and using a machine so overpowered it should never have been sold to an inexperienced rider.
I wonder, too, at the cruelty of fate. I weep for her and her parents. I don’t know how to provide comfort, how to help them bear this unspeakable burden
No amount of time can fully heal such a wound. Her death will leave a terrible scar upon those of us who loved her, and the lucky few who, even for a short time, benefitted from knowing her.
Perhaps later there will be more to write about Piper. For now, I’m left with the struggle to accept her death, and wonder at what she might have accomplished had she remained with us. She had much more still to do, I know. Much, much more.
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message 1:
by
Vanessa
(new)
Oct 01, 2024 04:23PM
As she embarked upon new career, I met her. Her absence is felt, her presence impacted so many. I believe she had mechanical issues rather than driver error.
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