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Dealing With Death

• October 2014
• Hi Steph Climb

Dear Steph,
My husband, Eric, and I began climbing in the North Cascades of Washington three years ago when we moved here from the east coast. Our lives revolved around climbing whether it be sport, trad, bouldering or ice. Our distinct passion though was alpinism and we spent countless weekends attempting (and usually tagging) summits in The Pacific Northwest… and then on September 6, as we were descending Le Petit Cheval, Eric was killed in a rappelling accident. We weren’t even on the rock route anymore… were going to rap down a steep section of the scramble path down because the installed hand-line had some core shots. It seems he only tied a knot in one end and rappelled off the end of the rope. I watched him fall.

I know you lost your husband in a base jumping accident not too long ago. I guess I’m wondering how you dealt with the aftermath. Eric was my partner in everything I did. We were best friends since we were teenagers and married for exactly a year (he died on our first anniversary). I don’t think the reality of what his death means has set in. There is nothing now but paperwork and his ashes…we talked about our last wishes. We knew there could be an accident. I know that I am to take the ashes and leave them on every summit I climb and every country I trek in. And I do want to keep climbing. I have the list of all the routes he wanted to do and I intend to do them all. I just… I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking. Eric loved watching you climb on Reel Rock and talked about you often as do I. I suppose I was wondering how the process went for you.
Sincerely,
Dandelion

Dear Dandelion,
I am so sorry. There’s nothing that can make it okay that Eric is gone. A lot of people have written to me this year, in this same place and wanting to know what to do. And that’s what I did also. I hope it’s okay that I’m answering you here, I am thinking there might be someone else out there feeling the same way who wants to see this too. Because no one understands what you are going through unless they have gone through it, which makes it confusing and lonely. My first thought when Mario died was that I wished it had been me. It should have been me, in my opinion, because he was so much more experienced and better than I was as a jumper. But it only took minutes before I realized that if it had been me, Mario would have been living through this horrible pain, and I wouldn’t have wanted him to do that ever. I was angry that I was flying in front and didn’t see him disappear because I felt cheated of the chance to follow him. I spent a lot of days and months wishing we had died together, and I seriously considered killing myself every day at first, because it seemed so pointless to live without him. All of my friends who had lived through this told me it would change and I would be happy again. So I trusted them, and decided to give it some time.

At first sleeping was the only relief, but waking up was so sad and painful, especially because it was usually waking from a dream where Mario was there. For the first several weeks that meant I mostly stayed in bed and ate very little. In the beginning you are in so much pain and you just want it to stop, but it won’t at first. A ripped heart is like any other injury. It won’t heal right away, but it will heal. And if you put energy into healing and do everything you can to take care of it, it will heal faster and better. The best advice I got was to keep a journal of my feelings at first, and to completely abstain from all chemicals–coffee, alcohol, drugs. I decided to try to do things that would be good for my body, when my energy permitted. I also made a decision not to do anything I didn’t want to, no exceptions. One thing that helped me a lot was reading books about people who had endured and survived. It inspired me, and also reminded me that a painful thing happened to me, but overall I’m very lucky and I have a really good life. The book that helped me the most in that way was “For Those I loved” by Martin Gray. What helped me least was reading internet forums about grief. The best thing is to reach out to the people who are like you and understand your experience.

Eventually I got out of bed in order to do half hour runs with my dog every day, but then got back in bed. If people wanted to visit me, they had to come talk to me in bed because I would not get up, and that’s just how it was. It was a few weeks before I could go running or climbing, and my outings were pretty depressing and small at first. Then I started to go out climbing for a few hours a day with my best friend Lisa–it wasn’t very fun for her–I would just sit and not talk and do a pitch or 2 (which made me feel good when i was actually climbing) and then sit again until I felt too tired and suddenly wanted to go home. I started painting the outside of my house, because Mario had planned to do that and I felt it needed to be done. Sometimes I did hangboard workouts in my yard. I knew I had to keep my body doing things when I felt up to it, because that makes you feel better always. I often asked myself what Mario would do in the same situation and tried to do it (usually the answer was be productive and do things). I discovered that walking uphill will always make you feel better. I did not spend much time with people, though many people reached out and visited. I only wanted to be around my brother, my best friends Chris and Lisa and Mario’s best friend Martin. I was very adamant in my mind that I would only do what I wanted to do. For the first few months I really just wanted to be home where I felt safe and comfortable. After 4 months, I finally went on a trip to Arizona for Christmas, and it was wonderful, but for the first few months I needed to be home where I could just get in bed anytime I was tired. Some people I know started traveling more quickly and it was good for them, but I didn’t want to leave home at first. Again, the important thing is to only do what you want, all the time.

Being there when Mario died was in some ways terrible, but in some ways comforting. It was several months before I could stop wishing of ways it could have been different, choices I could have made to make us not be there that day. I did stop doing that after some months. Now I am thankful that I never have to wonder where he was, what happened, what it was like that day, if things might have been different somehow if I’d been there to make it be different. I was there. I lived it all. Having questions about what it was like, where it was, how it was, would have been very hard for me. I count that as a blessing.

I also realized over time that Mario died at the height of his life. He was happier than he’d ever been and he was with me. He was the best person I’ve ever known, and I believe he got the death he deserved. There are a lot of ways to die, and many of them are long, painful and sad, and Mario deserved to be in a beautiful place with the person he loved most, doing what he loved most, and going quickly. I feel lucky I had him for as long as I did, and my life from now on is partly his life because he influenced me to be a better person.

Dandelion, I struggled hard with sadness and grief for several months, and gradually I realized that if I was going to stay here and live I needed to really live. I refused to accept living under a shadow. I saw it as a distinct choice between two options: be here and be happy, or not be here at all. So I made happiness my goal, not just surviving. I thought constantly of the ways I was lucky. I didn’t deny any grief or anger that I had, because I had so much at first. I went to sleep blank and woke up crying, or else I was just numb and had no tears. I spent a lot of time by myself, a lot of time outside seeing all the beauty around me, and I thought about everything all the time. I talked to people who understood me and who understood what this experience was like. I used my friends who’d been through it as role models and mentors, and over time I got better, because that’s what we do.

I wasn’t sure if I would fly a wingsuit again at first, and especially not sure if I would fly one from cliffs. When I finally did, I felt so happy to be flying again and to be in the air again. I’d missed it and I love it, and I always feel close to Mario in the air.

Last winter I fell in love with a friend of Mario’s and mine, and I was able to feel completely open to it because I understand that everything changes. I know too that there’s a lot of love in the world, as long as we are willing to accept it. At this point in my life, I can say that I’m happier that I’ve ever been. I appreciate everything. As long as I am here, I’m going to live it all and see the joy in it all. Everything changes, and you’re going to be happy again.

It’s going to be really hard for a while, but know that it’s going to get better and you’re going to get better. Eric’s always going to be in your life, and you’ll always love him, and you will get better. We don’t get to choose these things, but we can choose to be happy. I’m so lucky I had Mario for as long as I did, and I feel so lucky to be with Ian now. Just remember that life is short but it’s also long, and there are so many things ahead of you. You will be happy. Your body will always heal because that’s what our bodies do, and the same with your heart and your mind. Just do whatever you can do to feel healthy and find comfort each day right now so you can get through this time when your heart is so wounded, and it will get better–we are made to heal and you will.
<3 Steph