Two weeks to a year that you’ve been gone. Despite all the times I’ve thought of you or felt your presence, I’ve written so very little concerning you directly. I wonder where you are, what it’s like on the journey of death, and how it must have been to start that pilgrimage so deliberately, and hopelessly, as you did.
I dont mean to sound judgemental or condemning, it just seems evident that the only hope associated with your choice was that it might deliver you from your suffering. I don’t know. It’s so hard to make guesses, to find reason, to assign conclusions. Not only because your life, every life, has so many layers and depths, but also in large part because you’re just not here. Reasoning can seem so pointless when you removed our ability to act, to help. It’s over, you’re gone, whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it to you.
I don’t blame you Adam. I understand how empty and hopeless this world can make you feel. How overwhelming it can be. I understand how easy it can be to lose sight of all the lightness and beauty as well. What I don’t understand is your courage. I don’t know where you found the resolve to end your troubles. Was there a single one so great that its weight alone broke you? Or was every layer just another small accumulation that pushed you closer to the edge?
For a while I was angry. Upset that you hadn’t shared, that I didn’t know how bad it had gotten. Any of us would have given so much more had we really known, but ultimately this too has to be let go. You didn’t want to trouble us, you never did. And not only did you not trouble us but the most fucked part about it all is that you ended up giving us this incredible gift of understanding and introspection through your devastating loss.
But the loss isn’t yours, it’s ours, something else you left us with that is much harder to deal with. Despite the deep hole and loss your passing has left, we’ve each learned so much about you, about ourselves, about life. We’re trying to turn your decision, your life into an opportunity to nourish the connections both inside and outside of us that can help us feel a little less lost, alone, or overwhelmed.
I say we mostly because of Becca’s efforts with your living memorial, but I can’t help and feel that your character, our friendship, and your passing have each played some large roles in shaping this last year for me. That they’re helping light my way as I feel I’m staggering through the dark.
I want to tell you all about it but I know you’ve been along for it all, or at least I feel like you already know. For a while I felt your presence so often it was painful, but I’m thankful you were there. Now I sense you much less often and sometimes wonder where you might be. I wonder if your presence is just my conjuring or you come when you want, or both. I wonder what it’s been like for you, for everyone in Alta. I can’t help but guess at how much more present you are there.
But I hope you’re making your way to where you need to be, as I’m still trying to do in this outrageous reality. I’m trying to be kind and patient, to find humor as you would have advised. But much like you did I still find myself taking things too seriously, for tending to feel lost and alone more than I have reason to.
It’s been a tough first winter out of the canyon, I can only guess at how it’s been for you. I’m not sure yet just how much I can put in the positive category for growth and experience, but I’ll be getting a break soon and will hopefully gain a better perspective. A lot of the same questions we shared still feel unanswered, but I can’t help and think that maybe there aren’t answers so much as approaches, that they aren’t problems to be solved so much as opportunities to be experienced. The truth is, it’s been really great to try something new, to learn about myself and the world. I don’t think this is the answer, or opportunity I’ll settle with, but as much as I’ve been missing Alta and everyone there, I’m not sure that is either. Ultimately I still don’t know, and so the best I can do is try and thresh out the opportunities that might offer the best experiences, however I might be able to best judge that. I’m hoping that you’ll continue to help, that you’ll continue to follow along. I’m hoping that we might both find a place of peace, whether it be in this world, or beyond.
Your friend,
Tim