Surprise Photos

Our family had a camp on a pond; for generations, the place was another member of the family.  In 2021, the property was sold to a nice neighbor who is now renovating the old place.   The other day, he dropped off some photos to my mother that he’d found tucked away under the television at the old camp; pictures of me and my big brother on some of our many hiking adventures.    How, when and why they ended up there, no one knows.   

My brother and I were quite close; he was 12 years older than me, but didn’t mind my tagging along to go fishing, water skiing, snowmobiling, 4-wheeling, etc.  He enthusiastically shared his love of photography, nature and hiking.  He taught me how to drive and swim.  We laughed a lot.  We talked about everything.  He was one of my closest friends.   

One year ago this weekend, my life changed dramatically when my dear brother’s secret struggles and pain ended suddenly, on his own terms.  This past year, emptying his home and reconciling his life has been an agonizing process, and I’ve been angry with him for putting me through it.    

Seeing those photos reminded me of the big brother who was such a huge and positive influence on my life.  I remembered the man who never pushed, but always encouraged me to take just a few more steps because the top of the mountain was always just "five minutes" away. 

Grief is a lot like a hike: there are difficult hurdles, it can get cold, there’s a lot of pain, you’re never fully prepared, sometimes you feel lost.  But, when you least expect it, you can find a wonderful view to remind you that there can be beauty even on a difficult journey.   

Photos evoke memories that show you where you’ve been, but maybe they’re also signposts that point you in the right direction?  Maybe someday, I’ll find a reason why he put me on this grueling path?  Maybe, someday, the view will surprise me?

Mt. Washington 1999