I remember exactly where I was when I first felt the weight of how painful Derek’s passing would one day be. It was eight years ago. He had just helped me lift a bike into the wash station while I was racing through a backlog of Spring repairs during my second year at the shop. Back then, it was just me during the days and Ginger showing up after her 9-5 (a tremendous amount of work and effort), for the bulk of the days I was running everything solo, before Kris came on board.
There were a few downtown regulars who would stop by the shop, and Derek was one of them. When he was younger, he had loved cycling, mostly vicariously, sometimes directly. He was always supportive: volunteering to drive kids from the community to mountain bike races, or riding with the local crew on occasion. When I opened my shop, he would stop in to socialize, offer advice, eat lunch with me, and watch the floor so I could take a bathroom break.
After my first winter, heading into our first anniversary, Derek showed me how to refinish the floors. We stayed up until about four in the morning the night before our 1st anniversary party and sale, doing just that. As the shop grew and more people came through the doors, they’d see Derek and shout his name. Always excited to see him. It seemed everyone knew him. And when they saw Derek was a part of the shop, and they saw Derek trusted me, they immediately trusted me.
As my busy Spring turned into a busy summer, the responsibility of that trust, the trust Derek gave me and the shop, became a motivation, a point of pride. I worked (and still work) hard to make sure I did the work to earn and be worthy of that trust. On that day, early in our second Spring at the shop, washing that bicycle, driven by that trust, I felt the full weight and the inevitable heartbreak that finally came to bear this past weekend.
This past weekend Derek Bartlett died, I’m told, peacefully in his chair. (He always preferred his recliner over a bed.) Ginger and I were downtown working at the shop when his wonderful caretaker and friend, Jan, called in tears, “Darren, We lost Derek.”
She had found him in his apartment. We walked over to meet her outside Derek’s apartment. We spent the next hour waiting and talking about how much we loved Derek. Listening to how deeply he had touched Jan, just as he had me, was comforting.
I knew this day would be painful, and I also knew back then that it meant that I loved Derek. I’m grateful for that moment and that realization and for the gift of understanding the emotions I felt then. From it, I’ve carried the motivation to be as present as I can, both with Derek, and with everyone in my life. Derek was a wonderful presence in my life, he set me on a path I hope I continue to honor and earn.
Thank you to everyone in our community who spent time with Derek, and showed him respect and love. You all made his life as bright as he made mine, and as bright as I am sure he made your lives as well.