I Lost a Friend This Weekend
I need to talk about a true story
My friend Tommy fell from a cliff on Saturday night.
I want to talk about what happened.
He was staying at my house for the last several weeks. I’ve known him since I was a kid. His dad built my childhood home.
Tommy went hiking up a nearby mountain. We were texting throughout the day, sharing jokes and pictures. He summited the mountain and started down the other side. He sent me a message around 6:45pm. He could see the fee station in the canyon below. He sent me this picture:
“Can you pick me up it 45 minutes?” it said.
I usually talk about story development and science fiction, fantasy, and games with you all. But sometimes I need to talk about drama that’s real.
Today, this post is about a true story.
Nobody Knew What Was Going to Happen
I got to the fee station 55 minutes later. Tommy wasn’t there. I scanned the mountain.
I waited, then got worried and drove back home to get Gatorade and flashlights.
I scrambled up the steep, loose rock as far as I could go before it got dark. I blew my whistle and shouted his name. There was no response.
My wife called search & rescue. We were up until 1am with the Sheriff, scanning the mountainside with spotlights.
I got up again at first light and went back up the mountain.
Surely Tommy was just recouping from dehydration and decided to spend the night. Or maybe he’d broken a leg and needed to be airlifted out.
The chopper arrived shortly thereafter. The Sergeant running the operation asked me to come down so we could talk.
The many possibilities were collapsing into one.
He told me that Tommy didn’t make it.
Why
I wasn’t sure if I should share this today. I’m still not sure. But at the risk of sharing something too personal, I’m taking a chance for a couple of reasons:
We share stories — whether true ones or fiction — to learn from each other. That’s the power of stories. They contribute to a collected consciousness.
I want to know why Frodo would take the Ring to Mordor.
I want to know why Luke would face Vader.
I want to share Tommy’s story, how it affected everyone close to him that day, and who he was.
Maybe it will affect you.
He built a treehouse in our backyard. He was my roommate for a year. We would hold "Science Councils,” which is what we called it when we’d sit around discussing life, eternity, and the cosmos. My kids loved him. His nieces and nephews thought he was hilarious. He made people laugh. He had a deep belief in God. He’s part of an extended network of friends and family that love him. He was always helping. Tommy would show up when you needed him most.
He mattered. He still matters.
In fact, we all matter. We’re all part of one big family. We’re all children of God. Never forget that.
We are living a story, and that story is true.
You are the protagonist. It’s up to you to be the magnificent.
I’ll try my hardest if you will.
Thanks for all the laughs Tommy. See you soon.
Adam Sidwell
Creative Director
Future House Publishing & Future House Studios
Adam - First and foremost, I am deeply saddened to hear about Tommy. It sounds like you were lucky to have him as a friend, and he, you. It takes a lot of courage to share one's feelings about a traumatic, unexpected passing so soon after it occurs. Our thoughts and emotions are not always perhaps where we would want them to be. The coming days will be hard for you. If I may, I'd like to share some things I learned myself when coping with an untimely loss in my family some years ago.
Losing someone like this will make us ask ourselves certain questions. It will make us question our sense of self: What is left of me, now that this person who mattered so much is gone? It will make us question what we really believe: What does my belief structure have to say in the face of such a context-shattering disaster? And it will make us question our sense of control: What can I really do in this world when I could not prevent this awful thing that has happened. If you have not asked yourself those questions yet, you probably will. It is a natural part of grief. Give yourself time to answer them.
I will also offer this. It sounds cheesy, and it kind of is, but it helped me a great deal. It was told to me by the same grief counselor who shared with me the three questions I mentioned above. Grieving is like launching a boat into the ocean from the beach. At first, the waves are so big and they toss your boat, threatening to overturn it. But the farther out you get, the less the waves rock you, and the more steady the boat becomes. A rogue wave may occur, but you have been on the water long enough to handle it. The water will never be fully still, but it will feel still when you have been on it long enough. You are the boat. The ocean is your grief. Your distance from shore is time.
Much love and strength to you in the days ahead, Adam. They will not be easy, but your love for Tommy will be with you every step of the way.
I am so sorry to hear about your friend. It takes a lot of vulnerability to reach out when grieving and it's difficult to know how to process. I lost a friend this last spring and it leaves a mark. I hope you and those who knew Tommy can find healing.