Somewhere in this great white expanse a heart stopped beating.
I suspect it was a brave strong heart. We know he died in the cold, after his fall. In a split second his life went from triumphant, standing near the rim of a volcano he had climbed more than 70 times, to disaster when the edge gave way.
It's often like that - our lives can turn on a dime, on the head of a needle. Or we try something on the edge, risky, and it doesn't work out.
But every time a heart stops - whether for good or temporarily, it matters.
Today my heart leapt, a small hope, a tiny reminder of love. Embracing it, I was moved to small tears. What a sweet reminder that even when hope seems lost it can always be reborn... even when buried in the deep, breaktaking cold expanse.
May this man's soul rest in peace.
I couldn’t possibly
23 hours ago