2015 i texted you that i was moving to LA to which you responded, “yeah right. see ya never.”
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may 2017 i heard you were going through some lows so i invited you to visit me in maine while i prepared to make the move west. you agreed to a one way ticket, saying you’d probably only stay a couple days.
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three weeks later you were convinced that rock climbing is cool
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june 2017 arrived in LA on my motorcycle. you had scouted out climbing gyms and reported that @strongholdclimb was the gym for us, citing that it was the only gym where people didn’t act like they were too cool to be there
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it became our home — daily sessions to fill our dangerous surplus of downtime. we made the staff our family. i started working there in october of 2017 and we would regularly spend 12+ hours at the gym — you making music on your laptop as i worked the front desk and then climbing together when i clocked out
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the world was being introduced to you via your new music project i_o, and behind the scenes we were being introduced to the joys of outdoor climbing
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we’d roll into joshua tree looking like we were ready to play a late night warehouse party
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you’d return from a tour at 1am only to roll into my car at 5am and sleep in the front seat as i drove us up to the needles for the weekend. i’d pack your climbing gear and leave it by the door so you saw it when you got home — my way of telling you the plan
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2020 the pandemic hit. isolation. uncertainty. global shutdown. internal shutdown..
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5 years ago today i got the worst phone call of my life. as the closest kin in proximity, i was asked to come and identify your body.
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we climbed at the gym a couple weeks earlier. it was closed due to the pandemic so we were the only people in there. it felt surreal, like we were the last people on earth. it was the last last moments we’d spend together on earth.
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5 years later, i’ve got a daughter you’ll never meet, grown in ways you’ll never know. but she will get to know you through me, and there is no part of my growth, no part of who i am that is not connected back to you. i am forever grateful.
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i love you forever, g
River Lockhart Eroen.
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Born at 4:06pm PST on February 21st, 2025.
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you are a milk monster, very in touch with your feelings, obsessed with boobs, you hate transitions and you love cuddles.
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I have been learning and practicing my whole life to be the best version of me I can be for you. I love you forever and always.
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#river
while the world lines up to get through locked doors, you skipped the line and walked through walls
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some think inside the box. some think outside the box. but for you, there was no box at all.
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i love you, g. infinitely one. whether you want to or not, you live on through me.
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🖤
Waking up Sunday morning after the run was the scariest and most painful moment of this whole experience. I couldn’t straighten my legs. I couldn’t stand up. My thoughts were dark and blue.
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It took me most of Sunday to come to terms with the reality of what recovery was going to look and feel like. Minimum of a week off my feet - legs elevated - oscillating between heat and ice. Patience. Deep breaths. Stillness.
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Similar to the gusting wind on the trail, the pain and slow pace of recovery is non-negotiable. In the wise words of my dear late cousin, “yelling at the rain won’t get you anything but wet.”
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Monday I surrendered and began to move through the darkness with (a little) less resistance. Thursday marked a big shift and I was able lightly stretch and move. By the following Monday I was pain free. And today, very gently, amidst the wind and rain, I did a little running. Only a couple miles. Moving slow. Listening to my body. I felt fragile and capable and free.
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Tomorrow is the winter solstice. The longest night. I am wishing you all a resistance free journey through the darkness to the light. Feel what there is to feel. Let it all in. Connect with community. Together we can make it to the other side.
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#gobeyond #recovery #darkness #light #surrender #breathe #move #wintersolstice #longnight #newday
