Every morning for the last week I sat and cried. Today it started for Marc-Andre Leclerc. Then about Jess Rosskelley. And David Lama. Then Hansjorg Auer. After that I thought about Tim Klien. And Jason Wells. I read a quote from Neils, then an article about Stanley. I thought about Dean and Graham. Matt Ciancio. I cried about Kyle and Scott. All of them were friends.

Then I gave a moment to think about Ueli Steck, Tom Ballard, Dani Nardi. The Russian big wall project guys. The guy who died in the rockfall in Yosemite. Ryan Johnson died with Marc Andre, I didn’t know him so maybe it didn’t hurt as much. Julia was a good friend of my friends and Quinn didn’t die but her life is changed forever. Iñaki died on a wall I would have loved to be on. All those guys in Patagonia las season. Certainly I have forgotten both friends and acquaintances because I can’t keep it all straight anymore.

Of course, how could I forget about Hayden Kennedy and his lovely girlfriend Inge. A great friend who would be outraged and frustrated right now. It is so hard to keep track. It's beginning to feel like an empty room, photos and memories taken for granted are all that are left of friends, future plans, goals and ambitions.

More than once this tragic news has come at a time where I personally felt I was functioning in high gear. Fit, ready to strike, my whole life wrapped up in climbing, big walls, rocks and mountains. So much to do, so little time, not enough money and too many places to go.

My sails are full of wind these days, I have momentum and opportunities and a desire to see things through. But what now? Again? Each time this happens a creeping, sinking feeling sets in that I am next. What other option is there when this many people die in places I could have been, doing things I also do. I am left wondering if there is any other option than dying in the mountains. It seems inevitable, no matter how little I want it to be.