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A Song for Emily

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Contributed by: Charles Case on 9/29/2007

If you've ever wanted to see a grown man cry, then you should have been on the corner of Pierce and Chatfield between 11:00 am and noon last Saturday September 29th. My girlfriend and I were originally going for a drive into the mountains to see the aspens, but a neighbor informed us that we wouldn't be able to get out of our street for at least another hour or so because bikers were going to be riding through for Emily Keyes.

Sure enough, Jefferson County Sheriff deputies were already setting up cones in the intersection to direct and block traffic in anticipation of the thousands of motorcycles that were about to ride through. We decided instead to go down to the corner and join our neighbors in their driveway to watch the procession.

My girlfriend is disabled and uses a wheelchair, so together we walked and rolled down to Pierce and Chatfield just as the parade topped the hill on Ken Caryl. Our neighbors, Rob and Gretchen, were putting the finishing brush strokes on a hastily made sign that read, "Love U Guys," which they then propped up against a chair for all the bikers to see. The only thing I ever knew about Emily Keyes is that she was senselessly murdered and that those three words were her last message to her parents. My throat got tight and my stomach quivered a bit. Then the bikers arrived.

There were thousands of them. I was told there were some 4500 of them. From our vantage point we could look each one in the eye. There were men and women, and every ethnicity was represented. There were Ninja bikes sprinkled in with the Harleys. There were Hondas, Yamahas, BMWs, Kawasaki's, and every other name plate. There were dirt bikes and three wheelers. Virtually every type of motorcycle and every color of human beings were thundering past. Many had a picture of Emily Keyes taped to their windshields. Others had pink ribbons flowing in the wind from their handlebars. Most all of them saw our neighbor's sign and many waved and yelped while others honked their horns.

Several more people had gathered on the sidewalk and it was then I noticed that I wasn't the only one dabbing my eyes. Chances are that very few of the people sharing in that moment ever knew Emily, yet we all paused in our lives to remember her. As I stood there, I couldn't help but think how lucky I am to live here. And as I was thinking that, one of the bikers, a rather scruff looking young man on a gleaming Harley, rolled to a stop in front of my girlfriend in her wheelchair and extended his hand. She rolled forward and allowed him to take her hand and as he did, he looked her square in the eyes and said, "We love you too."

Well, that was it for me. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

Who are these people and where do they come from? The answer is they come from all walks of life, every profession in every economic sector. They come from the farms and ranches and from tiny towns and huge cities. And they always come where there is a worthy cause. Theirs is a message of compassion and tolerance. And here we are complaining about the noise of their bikes. Well Saturday, it was the most beautiful noise I have ever heard. It was a song for Emily. I'll bet Emily could hear them and I hope everyone else could too, for it is a song of hope and compassion. It is the sound of humanity.

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Submitted By: Amber O'Hara

posted on 10/1/2007 @ 3:01:28 PM

(Not Rated)

Great story. Earth angels I am sure of it. I know that scruffy biker and to look at him is to see his heart shine through his eyes.I have always known I was blessed to have met this angel.

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CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Charles Case

Littleton , CO

Charles Case has posted 2 stories and 0 comments since joining on 9/29/2007. Charles Case 's average story rating is 5.

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