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His Fatal Choice Taught Me the Meaning of Life
In love and death, what truly matters becomes clear
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When I knocked on Alex’s door, a woman who was not his wife answered.
“Hello,” I said, “Is Alex in?”
She stepped out of the house and pulled the door to the darkness behind her.
“Unfortunately, Alex has passed away.”
I frowned, my head recoiling in disbelief. He was completely healthy when I stayed with him and his wife a week earlier. I was going to stay that night.
“Did you see on the news?” she said, “The climbing accident?”
He fell? That didn’t make any sense. He was one of Scotland’s most proficient mountain guides with a lifetime of professional experience.
But as I learned the details, I couldn’t shake the feeling he had endangered himself because he cared about the wrong things, choosing those over what really mattered.
Somewhere behind the blinds upstairs, Alex’s wife Saoirse was in insurmountable pain. I left her to grieve, knowing I couldn’t comfort her. I only met her and Alex a week earlier, about to meet the love of my life.
