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.
Just stuff that laundry behind the piano
2 days ago