As I sit on the last bus from Whistler to Vancouver tonight, on the first leg of my pilgrimage to Teddy’s memorial day at Mt. Baker tomorrow…
I struggle for words.
Writing is a medium within which I’m usually able to express myself well, but for some intangible reason, I’m having an unusual amount of trouble with this. What’s all the more odd is that when it comes to Teddy… I have so much to say. We all have so much to say.
Where can I possibly begin? How can I do him justice?
Writing about all the people he’s touched? All the lives he’s blessed? All the friends that will never again see his smile? Never again grace us with those bright eyes? Never again receive his unconditional kindness, generosity, and understanding…
I can tell you that Teddy was one of the finest men I have ever known, and he will be missed dearly by many. Many people struggle through their whole lives trying to find the happiness Teddy found in skiing. There is some consolation in the fact that he passed doing what he loved the most. His future was in doing what he loved, and it’s tragic to see such brilliant potential taken from us so early. There are times in life when it feels like nothing makes sense.
There are no answers, only more difficult questions.
I have no more words.
So I will be brief.
I went painting last night.
Seeking a sense of closure.
Just trying to do my part.
It is but a small tribute to a great man.
If any of you are ever in Whistler.
Blackcomb base pedestrian underpass.
Drop off a candle.
His light shines on.
We love you Teddy.