Meeting on the Mountain: A Journey with My Pops
It’s two o’clock in the morning and I lie awake in my tent. The silence of the mountains at night allows me to hear my beating heart. Anticipation, excitement and fear are building with every beat. The guides will be waking us in an hour and I can’t seem to get out of my head. I always thought of the mountains as a place where I could go to get away, to escape the eight to five, for mental shutdown and to enjoy all the peace and quiet it has to offer. But this trip is different. It’s Father’s Day and it’s only been three short months since my dad passed away. In an hour I will start climbing for the summit of Mt. Moran in the Teton Range. But all I can think about is what a coincidence it is that I find myself here, in this place, on this day.
It was on August 1, 2005, that we received the news. My dad, who thought he had a bad case of the flu, was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. They had found a mass in his chest. There are no words to describe all the emotions we went through that day and the ones that followed. We, as a family, had always been so fortunate. How could this be happening? My dad, my hero, my role model was about to face the toughest battle of his life. After 20 years in the Air Force, flying jets in the Vietnam War, you would have thought he made it through the worst. We know better now. I was devastated and my entire family was shaken to the core. So many questions…How? Why? It didn’t matter, he would fight it, we would fight with him, and he would kick cancer’s ass.
Through all my 33 years, my dad was always my cheerleader. Sometimes reluctantly, but he always came around. He respected my adventurous and independent spirit, because he is the one that showed me the way. If it was something that took me out of my comfort zone, I was down with it. And in 2004, it would be no different. I decided to sign up for a benefit climb through a program called Summit for Someone. It’s a series of climbs that support Big City Mountaineers. The program provides urban teenage youth with positive mentoring through challenging, safe outdoor experiences designed to build their self-esteem. Even with no mountaineering experience, I immediately signed up. Our group was successful on our summit of Mt. Hood in 2005. It was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life, so I didn’t hesitate to register for the 2006 climb series. This time I chose something more challenging, Mt. Moran in Wyoming. The prospect of another outdoor adventure was an opportunity not to be missed.
The outdoors has always been a passion for me and my family. My parents were world travelers. They had just recently visited Portugal and New Zealand, among many other exotic places. They shared a love for skiing and fresh off a week long trip down the Colorado, had just found a new passion for the river. In May of 2005, my dad and I took a father, daughter trip to Idaho. We went on a two day whitewater rafting excursion down the Lochsa River. We had the time of our lives. But little did we know there was a mass in his chest and it was growing rapidly. I know now that this trip wasn’t a coincidence. It was just a month later that I saw him again in Jackson Hole. It was June of 2005. Our family had gathered for my cousin’s wedding, and it was Father’s Day weekend. It was the last time I would see him, the man with the boisterous laugh, as the healthy, happy man that I love and respect.
Exactly a year later, I found myself in the same place, Jackson Hole, on the same weekend, Fathers Day. But this time my pops wasn’t here, he wasn’t anywhere. He had lost his battle with Lymphoma (thankfully in the comfort of his own home surrounded by all of us, his loving family) on March 9, 2006. I never felt as alone as the day I walked off that plane in Jackson Hole. It was too fresh, too familiar and it was then that I began to wonder if I could do this at all. I eventually, with much hesitation, made my way to the Climbers Ranch in the Teton National Park. This is where I would stay for the next two nights before our summit attempt. I found myself overwhelmed with emotions sitting outside my cabin. I spent much of my time reflecting and writing. Sitting there, surrounded by those majestic mountains, I finally let my guard down. I realized that my dad was sitting right next to me. He was enjoying the view. It became clearer how present my father was the next day when I met one of the other climbers. His name was Matt, and within this fellow outdoor enthusiast, I found a person to confide in. The thoughts of my dad flowed out of me like a raging river, and amazingly Matt took it all in. He was seemingly unafraid and non-judgmental of my outward emotion. It was comforting how at ease he was with the conversation. Over the last few months I had discovered how awkward it was for many to speak of death. I welcomed the conversation with open arms. I wonder if he will ever know how much I appreciated that day…that talk. During that exchange, I had told him about my dad’s Buffalo Bills ball cap that I had brought with me. It was the symbol I needed to carry with me so I knew my dad was there, and it would make the journey to the summit.
 On summit day, Father’s Day, we headed out at 3am, with my dad’s Buffalo Bills hat safely stored in my pack. That day we were blessed with clear skies and sunshine. I think we can all appreciate a day like that when the mountains are involved. To me, that was my dad telling me that even with the possibility of stormy skies, a bright day still existed. It was a long 6 grueling hours to the summit, but with every step I leaned on my dad. I was energized by the thought of him. He helped me take those steps. He helped me climb that mountain. And when we reached the summit, it was Matt that reminded me; let’s get that picture with the Buffalo Bills hat. I will always be thankful to him for that moment.
So it was atop of Mt. Moran, 12,605 feet high, with my dad’s ball cap on my head that I began to heal. The outdoors had brought me and my dad together when he was alive, and I realized it brings us together in his death. I am not a fool; I know that the healing process may never end. There are many more mountains to climb. But, on that day, I know my dad was with me. I know now that the wilderness is a place to truly keep in touch with the man that taught me to be the person I am today. In the solace of the mountains, I will meet my dad again.
There was a quote that my dad and I shared, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us” – by Ralph Waldo Emerson. It was on that mountain, on that climb, that I found what lies within me. It is the foundation that my father laid for me. It’s a foundation of love, strength, determination, and hope. I plan to take it on my next climb and on my life’s journey. Thanks to my pops and to the mountains, I now embrace that journey with all my heart. I love you Dad and I look forward to seeing you on the mountain.
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