Why do we wait until someone’s gone to appreciate fully the time they were here?

We’re all gonna die.

Life gives us its version of an alarm clock, every now and again. Moments that shout,

“Wake up, this isn’t forever!”

Like when you can hear the rushing whumpf of a freight train high in the alpine, and you scan the avalanche crown running hundreds of feet across Mt. Stuart’s steep summit face to see the speck of your friend just above what surely would’ve been a final ride.

And wow, is it scary. The visceral thought of beloved limbs and bone careening down a mountain under glorious sun and blue skies, of which he might catch a glimpse in those final turbulent moments.

(sorry for the imagery, moms of climbers)

Yet, there Jaysen is, affixed to the wall by a few pointy bits.*

“Ted, take my picture!”

When faced with mortality, in a very immediate sense, where does your mind go?

For me, in this moment, some things stand out:

Relief, of course, to start. Followed by imagining what Jaysen’s ride (and hopefully quick demise, if it came to it) would’ve been. How the attempt to get near him would’ve almost surely produced a second accident in the terrain and conditions, at least from where I stood. The subsequent thoughts about whether to take or leave his things at the top of the Cascadian Couloir.

How life is real. Death is real. And for the lucky few, how either occurs is a reflection of our choices.

Funny how clarity quickly follows, the old cliché of crystal clear hindsight. Of assessment and choices, mistakes and good decisions. The tossin’ and turnin’ the night prior with thoughts of avalanches tied to fresh snow, choosing to stay put and skip the true top when it’s just right there, and that convincing myself of knowledge when I probably don’t know what the hell I’m talking about is something I need to be wary of.

Jaysen came back, I gave him a big hug, we adjusted our ski plan, and we made it down to camp. The next day was one of my favorite ski days ever.

Tomorrow never comes, as we only have today. How many stories of retirements followed by disease or accidents have you heard? Or young, tragic ends? Tomorrow Syndrome is real. For our day-to-day, for goals, for living. Most of us know what’s good for us; how many reasons can we list against choosing a life such that when our final moment comes, the glimpses of sun we catch are from the brightness we have shone through our joys, loves, experiences, and contributions?

It may be as simple as a slip and hitting of the head in the bathtub. Not everyone’s going out in an avalanche (to clarify, this experience has been another cornerstone for me in my own understanding of risk assessment, knowledge pursuit, preparedness, and decision-making; a current book on rotation for me is Staying Alive in Avalanche Terrain). But we can rest assured, that day will come.

Sharing is a multiplier, not a zero sum game.

Make it count for you, for those who you love, and for the world.

Let your eulogy be written in how you live.

*This took place in May of 2024; don’t use this post as beta for current snow conditions!