In the year since we lost The Climber I've been at a loss to know what to say to you, the family of one of my closest friends for 2 years. I have wanted my words to be a comfort to you, a gift, and yet nothing I could imagine to say seemed as if it would provide that. Indeed I was concerned that the very mention of him would remind you and bring back or continue the hurt... if you might have somehow forgotten him for even a day. Only recently has my hurt of losing The Climber faded such that I no longer think of him every day. Finally now I feel the grace of God has brought me to the time to write to you. Indeed as I start this letter the radio is just now playing a song titled "I can only imagine". The song speaks of the amazing joy and awe which The Climber has been experiencing, and which awaits us through the gift of our savior Jesus Christ.
God has laid on my heart to share with you the only thing I have of real value to offer; what God gave me through my friend The Climber - your husband, your father, your son, and your brother.
I first met The Climber as he interviewed for a job at my company. I liked his enthusiasm, friendliness and positive attitude. These are not my strengths, but I admire them. I can still picture his wide grin, which I would see 5 days a week for 2 years. Of course I did not have any idea at the time that we had so much in common and would grow so close. I had been hoping and praying for a Christian brother at work for 3 years. A couple of times Christian friends were almost put in that position, but it had not happened. I needed a brother to draw strength from, share trials with, and encourage me to be bolder in my faith at work.
A few days after the interview we decided to make The Climber an offer to come to work for us. But the hourly rate that the contract agency was asking was outrageous. The Climber had told me what they were going to pay him and it was reasonable, but their markup was not. I will never forget the tense moment when I had already gone way past the limit I had set and they would not come down any more. I was angry and I desperately wanted to say "No!" and hang up the phone. But instead I sighed and agreed, and feared I would regret it. I wonder what this battle of "principalities and powers" (Eph. 6:12) looked like from the heavens.
Even though The Climber was blameless in this matter, I might have held a grudge against him as he started work, for I am weak in this area. However I found The Climber, as did everyone, impossible to hate. Yes of course, like anyone, he could be frustrating or annoying (as when he would take yet another picture). But I cannot imagine hating him. His energy, positive attitude, joy, friendliness and smile were irresistible and clearly genuine; and of course this was a gift of God which The Climber used to its fullest.
The Climber and I quickly learned of our shared faith. We were amazed at the other things we had in common. We both had a loving wife and 3 children. We loved running, hiking and playing tennis. We both had roots in Virginia (I was born there). We had musical performance as a big part of our earlier years. We even looked alike; same height, weight, build and even beard. We must have been a comical sight running side by side. Soon we were running or playing tennis several times a week. We took breaks from project work to plan and dream of hiking 14ers. We hiked 4 or 5 of them together over 2 quick summers. On the hikes, the track and running path we spurred each other on through our weak moments with encouraging words or subtle competition.
All these hours together gave us time to share many personal trials and joys as well as everything else imaginable. We spoke often of our burden to know if our colleagues were saved and if not then to effectively share the gospel to them. This was the Christian brotherhood I had longed for and it was even more precious than I had imagined. We spurred each other on in our Christian walk with encouraging words (Hebrews 10:24), just as we did while running intervals on the CU track or trudging up rugged Mt Lindsey in a fierce wind. The Climber would say "Praise the Lord", in good times and bad. I had never known anyone to do this even though the scriptures clearly teach it (Philippians 4:4-6). He would say "God bless you" when I told him of my small steps in sharing the gospel. In this way he was another example for me in a life long lesson of the power of encouragement.
The Climber was also an inspiration to me in the area of befriending everyone at work. He always went to greet newcomers on the day they arrived. He loved to talk, but he always found a way to ask and listen also. He was able to connect with the most hardened ones at work; one that loved the label of pagan or claimed to be repulsed by children. I was never comfortable with these; The Climber was the Light to them.
We started to identify other believers at work; Lilly, Richard, Geoff, Tim, Mike, Pete, Randall, Rob. This was a perfect example of how God has so much more for us than we even can imagine to ask for (Eph 3:20). We organized a monthly "believers breakfast" at which we discussed how our faith, God's spirit and His Word could direct us in discussions and actions at work.
We once attended a memorial service of a work colleague. At that service there were kind, loving, and vaguely hopeful words, but nothing of the gospel or the promise of salvation and eternity. On the Saturday following The Climber's journey home, as I was thinking of the coming service for my dear brother, I was convinced that he wanted his service to be a bold proclamation of Christ to those he loved at work (in his case that seemed like everyone ). I felt God call me to boldly declare the gospel to our workmates at the memorial service, so that The Climber's passion could be seen crystal clear. In this setting, certainly The Climber no longer was concerned about offending them. They would listen to his witness because of the love they had developed for him. With this in mind, I called his church to offer to sing and speak at the service.
The next few days before the service are now a lost memory to me. I was grieving in shock, as you were. But I vividly recall driving to the service and realizing that indeed I may be expected to sing and speak, though I had prepared nothing. There I was in freeway traffic with no way or time to prepare for this key opportunity to honor my friend and my Lord.
I arrived a few minutes late to the service and sat in the back, purposely alone so as not to be distracted in any way from missing God's direction at this important time. I then watched God's providence unfold before me and it filled me with immense joy. The service was a non-stop stream of the gospel! And I was not called on or needed. I was able to relax and thrill at being a spectator as family and friends stepped up and spoke of The Climber's love of the Lord and his friends at work, and how he wanted them to know the Good News.
The drive home that evening was glorious. God had showed me that he wanted my willingness to serve, but he did not need it. The sunset over the front range of the Rockies, that creation that The Climber so loved, blazed and I imagined that The Climber was giving me a long, huge smile as he was saying goodbye, for now.
Why The Climber was taken from us so soon, so suddenly and in such a strange way, is a mystery to us. But we have the promise that it is not a mystery to the Lord of all (Isaiah 55:8-11). The Climber's present and our future is also a promise, on which we anchor our faith (1 Corinthians 15:42-57).
I have one more thing to share with you, for now, as the story of life continues to unfold. It is a glimpse of the next chapter, which is not yet complete, but is a reminder to me of the precious chapter that has closed. The very next week after the memorial service a new employee started at work, on our project. He loves to run, play tennis, hike, and he has had music as a big part of his life. We have become very close friends as we run together, play tennis or dream of hiking together. We talk about almost everything. We share our trials and joys and we encourage and challenge each other. There is only one difference from what I had with The Climber; a big difference. This time the one God brought into my life is an atheist. For 2 years God granted me a brother in Christ at work to strengthen me. Then he took him from me and brought a new, close friend, one to show Christ to. As The Climber is saying now - "Praise the Lord!"
The Climber's brother in Christ,
Ron
There are some days that I don't cry but they are rare. The other week, I sat in bed one evening and watched the sunset over Longs peak. The fact that The Climber would never stand below a peak and be in awe of its beauty overwhelmed me. The fact that I would never again be with him looking at a summit made me cry even harder.
I can't believe that I won't hear his cheery voice again explaining a route that he had taken on a certain peak, or his interest in my peak experiences. Last October I was in awe that he was still climbing and doing it so late in the season. We had a dry autumn and this allowed him to add peaks to his list, but Bill and I were still in awe of his accomplishments. I told him that he truly had the fever! Then he started planning the climbs of 2000. I remember telling him that it was going to be a long winter for him. When spring arrived I knew I would hear from him soon, and I did. He couldn't wait to begin climbing. His enthusiasm was contagious. I will miss that enthusiasm so much.
My husband says that he came into my life for a purpose, and that someday I will know what that is. I only knew him for 1 year and 5 days. I'm beginning to think that I was chosen to be there at his death. When he died, he was truly surrounded by those who loved him.
I recalled that on the way to the summit I prayed that God would give me wings. Wings to make it easier to get to the top, but not wings to fly off the ridge. These were my exact words to God. Later that evening while we kept vigil, Bill said "you all had guardian angels up there today, The Climber just had another angel with him." That's when I remembered my earlier little prayer.
On the summit when The Climber was getting ready to take a group shot, I said that I was sad that Bill wasn't there with us. What would Bill and I do for our Christmas card this year? The Climber said, "Kate, you have enough summit photos, just recycle them. No one will know which year it was taken." Yea, I said, I wear the same clothes on every peak anyway; no one will know the difference. He laughed. Then he paused and said, "you know, I have your Christmas and millennium photos on my bulletin board at work. Every day I look at them and they make me smile." Hearing that made me feel so good.
I only have little conversations to remember him by and I will cherish them all. On wed. Night before the climb, we were standing in the drizzle eating dinner and he said, "Can we talk about Pyramid? Could we climb it on Saturday instead of Sunday? I'd like to get home earlier than Monday." Well, let's see how we feel after Capitol and the backpack out, I said. This made me laugh - here we hadn't even climbed Capitol and he was psyched about the next peak. (The rest of the group would return home but Bill, The Climber and I were hoping to climb Pyramid Peak, outside Aspen, 2 days later.) Needless to say, when I did summit Pyramid 2 weeks later and looked out over Capitol and K2, I cried.) That Wednesday evening he was so excited about climbing the next day. He said, "look at the ridge, I am so charged up." - "it looks really long to me" - "nah, it looks great; I can't wait." Another talk we had was about my finishing the peaks. The Climber said, "I wish you didn't have to finish up the peaks this vacation. I sure would like to climb some more of the harder ones with you." I said, "Climber, I'm 47 - I have to finish sometime!" To this, Walt said, "well, I got 10 years on you Kate." We laughed.
The very last thing The Climber said to me was "I think my pants are too tight." I remember turning my head to look at his tan shorts, and noticing that they were nice. He walked around me, asked Mike P. a question, took a few steps and then was dead.
Kate M.
I'm Kirk H. I rode with The Climber on the Coast to Coast (bicycle) trip. My words can not begin to explain the loss that we felt this past weekend when we got together for our twenty year reunion. By now you have heard many people say that he was a unique, special, wonderful and gentle man. Yes he was, and a whole lot more.
I was very excited when Michele called me and said that she had talked to The Climber and he was coming out for the reunion. I haven't seen him in many years. Then a week later, I received the E-mail from Ed B. that The Climber was dead. I do grieve his passing, but I have the same everlasting hope that he shared with everyone. I will see him again. Once again I will be by his side and we will talk about the trip, our lives and how great our God is!
We were in St. Ignace, Michigan getting ready for the evening to come and a well deserved rest day the following morning, when he came up to me in his easy friendly way and we started talking. I wish I could remember exactly what we talked about, but that wasn't really important to me. The fact was, he made us all feel comfortable and accepted. We all mattered to him, and he mattered to us. He was our brother, our friend, as long as he was around; we all knew a little more peace.
I hope for you to pass this on to his wife, children and sister. She sent out a copy of his journal for us to read. I want to thank her for the extraordinary effort she went through to get it to me.
And to his wife, we wanted to extend the invitation for you to come to the reunion anyway. It would have meant a lot to me personally, and to the others whose lives were touched and changed by the presence of a great Man! Out of respect for the timing of our reunion and his death, we decided to allow you to grieve and mourn the loss of your husband, without the constant interruptions that would have occurred by the many questions of people that considered him a friend, but were not a part of your lives.
And finally to you his mother, I am the father of one son. I can not imagine the feeling of loss you must be facing. I want you to know that I share the loss that you and your husband face, only in the fear that some day, it may happen to me. I could never know the depth and frustration of your grief at this time. I wish that I could take it away from you so that you wouldn't have to face it now, or ever.
However, it is my understanding that you know Christ and that you have a relationship to him that will insure you will meet him face to face. For that, I am extremely grateful.
Kirk H.
Kaye B. gave me your e-mail address. It has been a number of weeks since I heard from her that my childhood friend The Climber was taken from those he loved. I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am that he is gone. Kaye told me that you were interested in hearing from people who knew The Climber.
I don't know if you remember me - I'm the red headed kid who kept coming and interrupting his piano practice when he was in sixth, seventh and eighth grade. We sledded together when we had a rare snow one winter, played Monopoly once in a while and outdoor games in the field across the street from you. We played four square with my cousin Dawn, my sister Dottie and Jay H. at different times. He showed me his rockets and chemistry set and I told him about my Hardy Boys books. We played basketball sometimes and occasionally hung out at the gym at EMC on Saturday mornings, or rode our bikes to various local destinations.
As you know, boys of that age don't spend a great deal of time in conversation. My memories were all action. Yet they are no less fond. I regret that I didn't keep up with my friend over the years and believe that we would have continued to enjoy our friendship had I stayed in the area. Indeed, it was a pleasant surprise for me to find that two of his good friends in High School were Dave S., who was a good friend of mine while I was in 8th grade and Kaye B., who I kept up with off and on for many years since we were in school together. He will be fondly remembered by many.
Sincerely,
Lamar F.