To Doug, who I will never climb with again

I am sorry that you had to leave. I am sorry that you were taken from us. I will never forget watching you deck in your mom's harness. I will never forget. I cannot buy you a beer when you get home now. I cannot tell you about the glory of God, now. I will never get to belay you again. I will never get to see you climb again. I will never get to see you fall again. I will never get to see you get back up again. I cried when I listened to the voice-mail from Liza. I cried a lot more when I was by the ocean in Boston. The waves kept crashing on the shore as the tide came in in the dark night. I wanted to be mad at God. But He was not the one. I wanted to be mad at someone- but looking for some scapegoat seemed so hollow. "Why did you have to go?" I asked myself. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away- may the name of the Lord be praised. I miss you Doug. I miss you. Goodbye Doug.