Living in the culture I do, it is (unfortunately) not uncommon to hear of injuries and sometimes even deaths occurring during outdoor adventures. It seems that at least a couple of times a year, the community is affected by a hiker who disappeared, a skier caught in an avalanche, or a climber who fell to their deaths. It is a sad fact of life, but it never occurred to me that the subject of one of those headlines could be one of
my people. Until it was.
Shortly after I turned twenty-one, I became a regular at my local mico-brewery. I still am. Over the last eight to nine years, I have developed many wonderful and cherished friendships through this tight-knit establishment. Only a few as bonded as my friendship with Big Bro. Big Bro was quite a few years my senior and had already experienced much of this world. He was married to a beautiful wife and a new dad to a bright little girl. He was a professional inventor, author, photographer, climbing instructor, traveler, and all around bad-ass. He was so much wiser to the world and always so happy and in love with his life. I very much looked up to him as a big brother I never had. I gained insight and life lessons from him over many IPA's and even took his rock climbing courses for my college Phys Ed credits.
On one particular three-day climbing trip, we scaled a massive and long route. Being the only girl (and smallest in stature) amongst our group of seven, I was determined to not be the weakest. But the climb up was never really the scary part for me. Sure, my skills are always at a beginner level, but the grunt part of a climb was never fearful. It is always the rappel. I have always found it mentally challenging to let myself walk backwards off the side of a mountain. (Imagine that?) After the long climb up and anchoring in at the top, Big Bro knew I would struggle and encouraged the others to go ahead. He was right. I was paralyzed. I saw this rap from down below and I knew it was a large over-hang. No wall to allow my feet to steadily slow my drop. It would be a free fall. On top of the fear, I was exhausted. The climb up had left me bloody from the stabs of jagged quartz crystals into my knees, thighs, and shoulders. My knuckles were in a sad state of their own.
As I hyperventilated while sitting next to Big Bro in the strong wind, I prepared my harness for rappel and tried to prepare my mind. I "practiced" several times. I walked the few feet to the ledge, turned back to face my instructor and crouched down. But I couldn't let go. Each time I crawled back up, with tears in my eyes and took my seat next to Big Bro. He was patient with each attempt but when it got to the point I was only psyching myself out even more, he looked at me and said
"Well, you can't stay stuck here forever. You can go back through the pain of the way you came. Or you can push through the fear and go forward." I looked down at my wounds, now a swirl of blood, dirt, and sweat. I walked back to ledge, crouched down and this time, I let go. I wasn't just thinking too much into Big Bro's micro-lecture. He
knew exactly what he was saying to me. As my friend, he knew of my
struggles and the way I let myself get in my own way of accomplishing my
goals. I will never, ever forget those words.
On today's date, three years ago, I got the call. I was busy packing up for a week-long vacation to my family's cabin. When I answered my phone in a cheery "Hey girl!", my friend broke down in sobs. She knew from the sound of my voice, that she would have to be the one to deliver me the crushing news. Big Bro had been on a mountaineering trip up North. He was on lead when a large chunk of ice fell out from beneath and took his life with it. I dropped the phone and screamed a noise unrecognizable as being human. Hours later, I zombie-walked to our micro-brewery to exchange the embraces and camaraderie of being shattered. Our friend, teacher, mentor was gone. Most devastatingly, there was now a young family left without their loving husband and father.
Oddly enough, the last time I can remember being truly at peace in my life was during the first year after Big Bro's death. Though the pain was crippling at first, it was fresh. It was always on my mind. Just as he had been a big brother to look up to, I wanted to be a little sister he could be proud of. I didn't have any demons to distract me. I focused on my work and my health. I set and attained many little goals. I continued to climb, while picking up new hobbies. I was happy, healthy, and comfortable in my skin. If I ever was stuck in a difficult situation, I would ask "What would Big Bro do?" and I would feel guided into making the best decisions for myself.
If Big Bro were here today to have observed the last couple of years, he would look at me with his zen-like expression and tell me to pull my head out of my ass. I have let myself once again get stuck on an exposed ledge. I down climb a ways into the painful route behind me, then back up to where I can be temporarily comfortable. Until recently, I haven't been moving forward. He would likely be glad to see me making some progress and evolving. He would likely encourage me to keep the forward momentum. To not let fear or insecurity determine my actions. To enjoy each morning like it is my last. To love the ones I love like I might not see them again. To spread the joy and compassion to every creature around me.
That is precisely what Big Bro would do.
