We are so sorry to hear about your loss you and your family will be in our prayers
Sorry to hear this. My thoughts go out to you and your family. Roger Brucker, Savannah,Georgia
Mr. Harwood,
I went to high school with Pete and spent less hours than some, but more than many, in the water with him. One day I broke the dunes at sagg to see a solitary figure in the water drop into this gnarly 12 footer, slam that classic Pete cutback and just ride… Best one I ever saw him catch, I’ll never forget it.
Thought you should know.
He’ll be in our thoughts with every paddle.
-Max
Dear Pete
I’m so sorry to hear your story. As a father I’ll remember and treasure your message.
I feel the loss and sadness in your words. I’m going to call my boy now.
Hi Pete,
My heart is with you and your family. Pete spoke so highly of his family I could not mistake the strong bond you all share.
Pete is full of sincerity, honesty, generosity and respect; which made him the great friend he is. He would always watch out for his friends, even something as simple as making sure everyone got some food before he got his. On top of all this, he is a ripper and a great guy to surf with. I miss Pete.
It is great to see his “gentle man” personality touch so many. Thank you for raising such a great friend.
Some friends from California are having a paddle out at Morro Rock at 4pm Saturday October 23; if you cannot be in Sag with the Harwoods and friends please join us.
Thank you,
Matt
When we were kids…
The endless adventure of finding a ride to the beach so we could surf anything and everything. Days when waist to chest high was pumping and 1ft overhead was huge. Skipping baseball practice to surf stormy onshore Sagg and the golden moment of discovery when the cut would groom perfect sandbars and we would be the only guys out surfing in the fog. Getting trucks stuck in the deep sand that made those perfect waves. Running into the basement with an old snapped 6’6 rusty, delaming the whole thing and shaping it down into a tiny 5’0 pintail with 1 inch rails, some blanks were ordered shortly thereafter. Doing the same thing with a dozen, almost rotting sheets of plywood from an old house, with total intentions of building a half pipe and no idea how and actually succeeding. Bombing the little hill on actors colony on small skateboards with big wheels. Hours upon hours in the parking lot at the village hall skating a 3 inch waxed curb and trying to do 180 kickflips. Constructing an entire skate park beneath a neighbors barn. The basement turned out some good skate ramps. Birthdays in Montauk. Riding fishes with 3 fins after twinnies went out and before 3 fin fishes went out and came back in again. Sleeping on the beach in boardbags under the deck just because we could, waking to the occasional angry town official with a stick and on a rant about beach fires, sometimes scoring great waves, and always ending up with sand everywhere. The room that set the standard for % poster coverage per wall space, 130%. Snowboarding in the woods behind the house on Deerfield. Building kickers over fallen trees and landing in the flats. Getting alot of air. Almost breaking and then actually breaking wrists on several occasions. Sitting on the roof, LOST Across America and LOST At Sea, pepe the green iguana. Being kids, carefree.
Pete was my oldest friend. We grew up together, learned to surf together, pushed each other like brothers, in the water we were always trying to better the other, do the sickest turn, throw chop-hops, the wanna be air. My younger brother was his younger brother, he was my third brother, my parents third son. When I moved to California, Pete moved to California. We shared the same close knit crew of friends. We all wore FLUSH clothing, petes clothing, it was cool, it represented our group, the group was really big. EVERYBODY loved Pete. He was the last friend I saw before I left the states. I will miss Pete. Words cannot fully describe.
Jasper
Pete,
Thank You for enriching my life. I was stoked to meet you when you came out from New York to IV for the first time and I was sad to see you leave again so soon. You said you would be back and you lived up to that promise. I was always happy when you chose to sleep on our couch rather than in your apartment. Maybe it was because we had an ocean view from the balcony and your apartment was land-locked 6 blocks inland, but I like to think that you just wanted to spend more time with your buds. We had some amazing times partying in IV but we knew we couldn’t do it forever. It made me really happy when you went back and got your GED. Even more so when you started working towards your drafting certificate at CC. I remember one semester you told me you were gonna need help with your math class. It was your first one in about a decade. I would have been glad to do it, that is if you needed it. Everyone always knew how talented you were when it came to surfing art and creativity but it really impressed me that when you put your mind to it you could accomplish the things that weren’t fun for you. It was sad when everyone moved away but I was glad that we got to live together. Its a shame that we couldn’t have lived there for longer. We always talked about how it should have just been you and I. I was bummed when you told me you were going back to NY for the summer but you promised you would be back and I knew better than to doubt you. Again in the fall I had the pleasure of having you stay with me while you looked for a place. I’m sorry that in the end I wasn’t a better friend to you. I shouldn’t have let you push me away and when you came back around I should have been there. I saw the growlers about a month ago and texted you to say I was sorry. I hope that the message got through. There was a time when I would have called you my best friend and I think I may have been yours too. In my heart thats how I want to remember our time together. I and everyone else was truly blessed for having known you. I won’t soon forget that sly smile or wry wit either.
James
Please accept my condolences for your loss–my heart goes out to you.
~ Joni
Sorry to hear about that. You and your family are in our prayers tonight. I have a young daughter and a Son on the way, cant imagine your pain.
I can't even imagine the pain you must feel.
From a father and grandfather, my most sincere heartfelt condolences. Remember the sessions you had together, and how happy you both were during those times. During the next precious session with my own son, we’ll think about the two of you.
Best Regards,
Lance
…I don t know exactly what can I say to you, I dont know you or yours
but I can imagine the pain
kind regards,
Fernando
My most sincere condolences and thoughts to you and yours…
As a father of two… i can’t even imagine.
Take care Pete…
I can only say that there are a lot of dudes on this forum, and I’m sure elsewhere in your life - thinking of you and the pain you’re going through.
I really hope that our thoughts and prayers may bring you some positive energy and solace…
deep regards…
read all the pages to here.
tomorrow when I watch the sun rise
two more petes will be in attendence.
…ambrose…
…
…>
…so I missed the sunrise
we were in the water early though
we paddled stand up far from the maddening
it was high tide.the cliffs were the norm ,volcanic wet black
variegated tropical greens,the wind soft and warm…
just us two on recon,catch a few and go back for the proper quipmen
in the moment hadn’t yet thought of ya’all
struggled with my age ability/confidence quotient
but was adjusting well after the third wave
hey the place is mush and nobody out…
settled …tank full…struck the set and went for real boards.
meanwhile the discount boards and discount people
were standing about at the world famous
fantasizing being sponsored with shin ho sets…
so any way we are talking a good 3/4 mile round trip paddle
get the 11’ers and pace paddle back to the scene of intent.
there are sets the tide has started dropping to expose enough reef.
then it comes to me… pete and son.Must set the commemorative in play.
as I am paddling out through white water for the next set set
my friend ,some years my junior, is outside
and the catchable wave is inside and I paddle for it
as I admit missing it turn to see the wave O’ the session
in his adoring embrace,paddling for the shoulder my joy/envy
blossoms as I suddenly become concerned that my tail block
will endanger/block his traverse … all the emotions in play
as I nave made this board he rides …shaped and glassed
with his wood block flowers in the glass job.
the board resides under the house
while he is gone for years at a time
the board is in perfect shape for it’s age…
so after catching a few
I am paddling back out
i sit up to tak it all in
I am a visual guy
and I look over the top of the waves
friend’s silhouette outside grey scuddy clouds
and high above
in view …the soaring Iwa…to me auspicious
the Iwa apears I take note…
I look away and the shadowy bird is gone.
I stop and look up coast and down
the bird is gone. I see only the silhouette
of my friend against the sky
outside the waves
its grey
we are still the only two out
besides pete
and of course
pete
aloha oe’
…ambrose…
It’s early along the Santa Barbara coast. Just enough light to see. I’ve paddled and ridden the waters your son has, so many times…practically lived at Sands while growing up, named the inner break at Naples “Seals” with friends, for those furry little creatures that would hang inside, sunning themselves, and occasionally riding waves with us. No doubt our watery paths have crossed at Rincon or Deveraux or Campus while jockeying for post position on any given day.
I’ve never elaborated much on Sways as to how I got my name here, but it certainly seems fitting now.
Grieving is for the survivors.
Your son feels no pain.
The pain you feel is yours
And it is great and heavy because you have so much heart.
You were and still are a wonderful father.
You always will be.
That pain will never go away.
It’s not supposed to, but time will round off the sharp edges.
The universe that takes a child before the parent seems random and unjust.
For unknown reasons, I was sent to ‘the other side’ one starry night that found me dead at the scene, and if it had not been for an EMT arriving on the scene that recognized me, I was being put in the bag until he said "wait a minute, I know this guy, let me look at him.
No pulse, just a bloodied vessel that had been victim to a twisted mess of metal that had once been a truck like your son’s. I was done, that is until my friend noticed a slight gasp from me, and he performed some type of dicey procedure that you would normally only find on the battlefield that would be considered “experimental”.
Off to the hospital, only to have given up the ghost once more and onto life support while in what the medical field terms “very deep coma”.
Unresponsive.
Quadriplegic.
Less than 1% survival rate with this situation.
Coma for days.
Organ harvesting team on stand by.
Clinically dead at one point in the medical records.
Where did I go?
What was it like for your son?
What about the light?
Yes.
My journey started (not ended) here.
In my youth, I was always fascinated by the X15 and the entire series of X machines they built in their quest to break the sound barrier.They would have to reach 700 miles per hour to do so.
Where did I go?
I was out in what I can only term “a desert of light” which had no distinct features around it other than being blindingly bright and I was strapped into a rocket chair, that sat on a track. They would test on these tracks for the G force pilots would experience in the X series jets from the subsequent propulsion.
As I sat there, a man approached me dressed in a World War II Air Force uniform. He came closer to me and I could see it was Ward Cleaver. He said to me, “Bruce, you are in this rocket chair because you are going to be traveling across the desert, and you are going to be going very fast. In fact, you will be going 650 miles per hour”!
He continued, "when you get near the end, you will see a tunnel, and then he leaned over closer to me so as to block out the sun, and while looking up into his face, he said “you will be going into the tunnel… but you will be alright”.
I believed him, as I felt a warm sensation of calm and peace that I had never known before.
…and then, there it was, I was flying across the desert, with everything a blur and sure enough, there was the tunnel, and as I was entering, sure enough again, it was glowing blue…
There was no harshness of gravity that grounds us on Earth. This in itself was heavenly… it was even better than the best wave I have ever ridden on our planet. It was as though every concern and worry I had ever carried upon my back was instantly gone and there was only peace as pure as the white light that had surrounded me in the ‘desert’ before Ward Cleaver had approached me.
Is Ward Cleaver God?
An angel?
I don’t really know, but some day that mystery will play out and I can go home.
Perhaps because I only got up to 650 miles per hour, as Ward told me I would, I didn’t make it all the way and was less fortunate than your son.
Falling back to Earth is a bitch and very difficult and extremely painful, and when I became cognizant of people around me as I lay at the Santa Barbara Rehabiltation Center, people asked me about my experience.
The weight of being bound to our Earth is harsh, so harsh that during my stay there I coined the term: GRAVITY SUX.
Grieving is for the survivors.
Your pain is your pain.
Your son is set free & soaring as I wish I could be.
It took me a few years to regain and accept the desire to be fully earthbound and grounded again. It still feels as though going surfing is two dimensional.
Somebody asked me where I went, and all I could say is, “I went to where your thoughts come from”.
Passing over is truly passing over to a place I’d rather be.
You just don’t know it yet.
I know what it's like to share something with a son - like you. Not many people get that.
I'm so sorry for you Pete. I can't imagine how you and your family feel right now.
I first saw this thread and didn’t know how to respond…
Then this past weekend we drove down to San Diego. North County is filled with bittersweet memories for me. One of my childhood friends, my “surf buddy” with whom I surfed the most, from the time we were in middle school, had lived in Oceanside. He passsed away a few years ago. Driving through that area brings back a lot of memories.
We’d been listening to music the whole way down (from Los Angeles) and right when we get to where he lived an Eric Clapton song came on, “Swing Low Sweet Chariot”-
Swing low, sweet chariot Coming for to carry me home, Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home.
I looked over Jordan, and what did I see Coming for to carry me home? A band of angels coming after me, Coming for to carry me home.
Chorus
Sometimes I'm up, and sometimes I'm down, (Coming for to carry me home) But still my soul feels heavenly bound. (Coming for to carry me home)
Chorus
The brightest day that I can say, (Coming for to carry me home) When Jesus washed my sins away. (Coming for to carry me home)
Chorus
If I get there before you do, (Coming for to carry me home) I'll cut a hole and pull you through. (Coming for to carry me home)
Chorus
If you get there before I do, (Coming for to carry me home) Tell all my friends I'm coming too. (Coming for to carry me home)
Was it just a coincidence that song comes on right as we drive my buddy's old house??? I just don't think so. It made me sad but it really gave me hope, that there's something out there, bigger than us, and the end is not the end...
Pete I was not going to respond to this. It was just to painful. Then I was going to tell you about when I was in Vietnam and what happened to me. Then I read dead shaper and there is so much truth in what he says !
Grieving is for the survivors.
Your pain is your pain.
Your son is set free & soaring as I wish I could be.
It took me a few years to regain and accept the desire to be fully earthbound and grounded again. It still feels as though going surfing is two dimensional.
Somebody asked me where I went, and all I could say is, "I went to where your thoughts come from".
Passing over is truly passing over to a place I'd rather be.
You just don't know it yet..
When you pass over and come back life is not the same and you can never explain to anyone cause they wouldn't believe you anyway. Your minister will tell you god took your son for some reason. The shrinks will convince you to fined closure or instruct you on how to heal.There will be advise from many. They will all have good intentions! Your pain is your pain and you will carry it for the rest of your life as will your wife and daughter. It will not go away, It will not heal! You will cry and you will hurt!! Live your life for your son doing the things he would want to do , be together in your souls! Let him see through your eyes!! Let him be your strenghth !!! Go ahead and cry ! Be thankful for the time you had with him and carry him with you always!
If you get there before I do,
(Coming for to carry me home)
Tell all my friends I'm coming too.
(Coming for to carry me home)