Blanche Jackson of Butler Township rides the Honda sport bike her son, Adrian, was riding when he died in a December 2006 crash in Delaware. Only the outer plastic parts were damaged in the accident, and after hearing Adrian had announced to friends he wanted to teach his mother how to ride, Blanche had the bike repaired and learned.

For Blanche Jackson of Butler Township, Mother's Day is a time to celebrate life, despite how its joys are diluted with sorrow.

Her granddaughter, now 2, was born on Mother's Day — named Adriana in memory of Jackson's son Adrian, who was killed in a motorcycle crash.

"Adriana was born five months after he died, and she was three weeks early — so I think he had a hand in it," said Jackson, 47.

"It was going to be a rough Mother's Day, and it turned out to be a beautiful Mother's Day."

Jackson still had her daughter Kristen, who had just given birth to Adriana.

Just as Jackson found joy in the unexpected birth, she also found peace in an unforeseen place.

When her son, nicknamed A.J., died at 23, he was riding a Honda sport bike in Delaware, en route to the home of his future in-laws.The bike was equipped with new tires, and Jackson can only speculate A.J. didn't anticipate how the tires would respond when he did a wheelie in traffic."My son was a daredevil, and he loved doing wheelies, which are fine in their setting but not in the street," she said.When her son's front wheel returned to the pavement, it came down into a tank slap, characterized by a bike's front end veering erratically after making contact with road while out of line with the rear.Trying to avoid oncoming traffic, A.J. shoved the bike sideways, saving it from unrepairable harm. But as the bike went one way, A.J. went the other — into an oncoming car."The momentum and the torque: There was no chance," Jackson said, explaining her son died instantly."I have no doubt that his last thought was, 'Damnit. I have to fix my bike.'"

Although the outer plastic parts were the only ones damaged, Jackson had no initial interest in doing repairs."It was a very rough time and my first instinct was to sell the bike," Jackson said. "I didn't want to see it. I didn't want anything to do with it."But A.J. had loved the bike, and Jackson soon learned her son had announced plans to teach her to ride it."I had made such changes in my life, and he was proud of me," said Jackson, describing a recent weight loss after a gastric bypass surgery.Eventually, Jackson began to gravitate toward the idea of riding, maybe because her son's last moments were spent on the bike, a symbol of his adventurous spirit.At first, she avoided discussing her plans with A.J.'s friends, since the talks would lead them all to crying. She then found an online support group, where chat room reactions were sometimes extreme."I got slammed," Jackson said, recalling statements like "You're riding a death bike" or "Don't ever ride that bike.""Had the bike caused the wreck, I probably couldn't ride it," she said, reiterating her son's penchant for excitement and his decision to stunt ride in the street."They didn't understand," she went on."It was that bike or no bike."

"He didn't have it very long. But he loved it. He loved riding."Jackson said her husband David understood her thinking, never questioning her need to see the world from their son's vantage point."A.J. died on the 17th of December, and for (that) Christmas my husband got me the jacket, hat and riding gloves," she said."His friends all got together and put the bike back together for me."A couple of A.J.'s friends taught her the basics of riding, and she enrolled in a safety course. She found a local sport-riders group, which included an offshoot group for women.As part of the group, Jackson rides at least once a week, finding camaraderie with friends and solace with the memory of A.J.Jackson said her only issue is a strong aversion to stunting, but the sport group's emphasis on safety eliminates the conflict.With a memorial decal for A.J. on the windshield, Jackson is often prompted to tell his story and explain her presence on the bike."Some people understand. Some people are in shock. Some people are downright nasty about it," she said.But riding her son's motorcycle allows Jackson to see the world from his vantage point, to share a pastime he loved."I feel closer to my son when I ride. It's like he's on my shoulder." she said."I talk to him about it. Thank God nobody can hear me."

A decal remembering Blanche Jackson's son, Adrian, adorns the windshield of the sport bike he was riding when he died in an accident. Blanch learned to ride the motorcycle to help grieve the loss of her son.

A sticker remembering Blanche Jackson's son, Adrian, adorns the windshield of the sport bike he was riding when he died in an accident. Blanch learned to ride the motorcycle to help grieve with the loss of her son.