Jacob, for his part, kept asking why we couldn't just go for bike rides where he gets pulled along in the bike trailer. He kept insisting this way was best.
My answer stayed the same. "You're getting too big for the trailer and I'm not strong enough to pull you." You see... it was always his dad who would pull the trailer. I think another part of me didn't want to take this memory away from Jacob. It's one of those memories he might actually remember well about his dad.
Austin was so excited to get Jacob on his own bike. We almost bought him one for Christmas but Jacob was showing little interest in them so we didn't. I wish now we would have bought one then. Now, Austin will never get to see Jacob on his bike. He wasn't there the first time he climbed on. The first time he thought he was going to fall over before the training wheels caught him. The first time he managed to pedal across the driveway. He won't be there when those training wheels (hopefully) come off one day. Or for the many adventures Jacob will (hopefully) have while riding bike.
I knew one of the things Austin was looking forward to so much was teaching Jacob how to ride a bike. I was excited for him to teach Jacob. I knew it would be such a great father/son bonding experience.
But that's no longer an option. And with Jacob turning five, knowing that this birthday would have been the one we probably got him that first bike, I went ahead and purchased a bike. And Jacob. Well, Jacob cries every time I make him get on the bike and try to ride it. I'm not sure if he really just doesn't want to ride it, or if he can pick up on my emotions trying to teach him: "this should be your dad. your dad should be here." It's bittersweet every time I force him on that bike. I hate seeing him cry. And I hate seeing him struggle. But I also hate the fact that Austin isn't there to see it all too.
Jacob and I will keep on truckin'. I'll keep forcing him to get on that bike. I'll make sure he learns how to ride. But I'll also make sure he knows how much his daddy wanted him to ride a bike and how much he would have loved going on bike rides together.
And to end this post on a slightly more humorous note... One evening my dad and I were trying to get Jacob to bike across the driveway. He was crying and screaming, tears running down his face. He struggled to pedal. My dad said, "Jacob, you've got chicken legs!" And Jacob, bless his heart and through his tears, started clucking like a chicken.
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