My Heart is in Tanzania

I made it through today, I worked out, ran some errands and was able to have plenty of laughs with my friend, McNeil, along the way. Overall, today was a good day. As I was wrapping the day up, my phone buzzed. I checked to see who messaged me but instead of finding a text or voicemail notification, I found a Facebook notification. I click on it, thinking that somebody must have commented on my photo of the day. Nobody commented on my photo. It was Facebook reminding me what I was doing on this day last year, two years ago and three years ago. This is where I stop. The tears begin to roll down my face as I scan these images. My tears are hot and slow moving, almost as if they are magma, slowly rolling down the side of a volcano.

 

 

One of these images is of Tommy and I with Mt. Kilimanjaro majestically resting in the background, his arm proudly wrapped around me. . . Facebook says that I had a life event on this day. This day three years ago, Tommy and I got engaged. I close my eyes as the puddles continue to form in my eyes. I attempt to view the other photos from that day; however, the images are distorted, my vision blurry. No matter how hard I try to hold back the tears, they come. I continue to attempt to view the images. I am able to make out Tommy and I at the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the tallest peak in Africa.

 



At 19,341 feet is where Tommy decided to tell me how much I meant to him, how much he loved me and how we were perfect together. I recall asking him what he was talking about...maybe the elevation was affecting him! And then he dropped down to one knee, pulled out a mahogany square box, opened it and asked, "Alison Ann Ashby, will you marry me? You are perfect." I wrapped my arms around him, in the perfect lovers embrace and said, "Of course! I would be honored!"

 

 

He slipped the most elegant ring I have ever seen onto my left hand ring finger and we shared the most sensual kisses of all time. We were frozen in time! For a moment we thought we were the only one's on the summit, which is far from the truth! Next, we decided to pose for the standard summit photo with our two guides. We couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear...infected with both excitement about summiting the tallest peak in Africa but also for the excitement and anticipation of our lives together...as a kick ass team.

 

 

Once we got back down to high camp and we were taking a nap together, he told me to make sure I looked carefully at the ring, that there was something special about it. Most women might automatically assume that there might be an engraving on the inside, but I am not most women. I had no idea! I could blame it on the altitude, but it just never crossed my mind. I also didn't want to take the ring off to inspect it...it was too perfect, yet the idea of a secret being somewhere on the ring was eating me alive! It took me awhile but when I saw what he was talking about, it made me love him even more. On the inside of the band was a simple engraving, "you are perfect." He loved me for exactly who I was and I loved him for exactly who he was, not what we were to become. We were a beautiful match. We were perfect.

 

 

 

Unfortunately, once we returned home, I had to have the ring resized. Tommy planned everything to the very detail. He knew that while hiking, especially at higher elevation, your fingers tend to swell; therefore, he intentionally bought the ring two sizes too big. He said it was really important that he could put the ring on during the proposal - to make it feel more real and to make it the perfect proposal. Sadly, during the resizing, the engraving was lost.



After making the descent back down the mountain, we spent the next five days or so on a private safari. We spent nights in fancy tent cabins as lovers. Monkeys could be heard pitter-pattering across the canvas roof. We stayed in high end resorts some of the nights because, why not? We just got engaged! Time to celebrate! We spent other nights in more affordable accommodations but we always made the best out of it. Nothing could go wrong because we were so in love. That uncontainable, make other people sick kind of love. The funny thing is...we never fell out of that sickening phase of love, that was just us.

So...at this point, I would like to say, thank you Facebook for reminding me of this event and for breaking me down. It has caused much pain, heartache, and tears tonight as I lay in my bed, alone, with Tommy's ashes on his nightstand next to me. Despite the amount of pain these memories have caused, by writing my story of that day and of that trip, it has also brought me much joy. it was such an amazing and surreal day...for a few minutes while writing this down, I was able to escape the reality of widowhood and return to the "Roof of Africa." Tanzania will always have a special place in my heart; however, Tommy will always have my whole heart.

I love you, Tommy. You are my favorite.

I miss you immensely.

A Walk With Nature

 

 I woke up with little ambition for the day, until I saw that gorgeous blue sky and bountiful sunshine booming through the window (this has been a rare sight around here). It was as if the day was calling my name. I quickly gathered my newly acquired local guide books and while choking down a protein shake, skimmed through the worn pages. I was bouncing ideas off  of my dear friend who has been staying with me. “We could go to the coastal range and maybe get a view of the ocean?” “We could go to the gorge.” “How about Mary’s Peak again?” All of these ideas led to the discovery that my friend was going to tap out of the hike for today as she was still recovering from our snowshoe adventure from the previous day. I set the books down…looked out of the window again…and began to get dressed. I rearranged a few appointments, grabbed my big dog, loaded up my gear, and I was off to the mountains.

Did I just make a mistake?

I wondered this over and over during my two hour drive to the mountains. I have not been alone with my own thoughts for this long since the night of November 29^th.  I have been surrounded my loved ones for every moment of every day since I stepped out of that Blackhawk helicopter on November 30^th. Am I strong enough to be left alone with my own thoughts like this?

What did I just do?

I know I could always turn the car around and return to what is known and what is comfortable. But then again, how will I know if I don’t attempt the uncomfortable. Am I merely afraid of my own thoughts? Do I want to avoid the sadness? What am I afraid of? I am asking myself all these questions, while continuing to drive toward my destination, Maxwell Butte. Some may say that matters were made even worse during this drive for my poor car doesn’t even have a radio. It was purely me, myself, and I…oh, and  my dog, Ingrid, too but she’s not much of a talker.

What have I gotten myself into?

I finally make it out of the city and start weaving  and winding into the mountains. Ahead, in the distance, Mt. Jefferson appears. It is stark white against a cloudless blue sky. It is enchanting. I cannot take my eyes off of it. It has me, my everything. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, Mt Jefferson has ducked behind another ridgeline. I continue my trek, passing small towns along the way. Small towns that have so many memories for me. Tommy and I stopped to use a bathroom at this gas station on our way to Bend. Tommy and I stumbled into this food mart on blistered feet just shy of midnight after our first Mt. Jefferson attempt looking for anything with salt and water. Tommy and I ate lunch here with his best friend and new wife the day after their wedding. Tommy and I rented jet skis and frolicked on this lake…showing me all of his favorite spots from childhood, all the while Mt. Jefferson looked over us from a distance. Tommy and I got our last coffee and breakfast at this coffee shop…some of the last people to have seen us together alive and well. Tommy and I have shared many a meals at this diner and amazing bread sticks from this pizza parlor. Oh, and remember the weird clam bake they were advertising for at that convenience store out in the middle of nowhere? And the time we seriously contemplated moving out to help run that cute little restaurant?

Oh, Why have I decided to come out here alone?

Back on the mission….Maxwell Butte, here we come! I know what is coming ahead in the very near future. It is the road that will take me to the trailhead where Tommy and I started our hike together. The road looks clear. Just a few weeks ago, this road was covered in snow, making it impossible to reach the trailhead by vehicle. Without thinking, my hand flicks my blinker on. I turn. Maxwell Butte is still up ahead on the highway. I put Maxwell Butte to the back of my mind. I know have blinders on…and they are focused on getting to the trailhead. If I can get to the trailhead, maybe today’s hike in the glorious sunshine can lead me to my tent. My tent…where I spent the last night with my husband as a lovingly wedded couple. Maybe I could return home with that sacred tent of mine. Oh the possibilities! Four miles in to a seven mile road, I halt. The snow has become too thick on the road for me to safely continue. I slowly back up and turn around. Yet another let down.

Why am I here?

“That’s okay,” I tell myself, “there is always the other approach trail.” That’s right! I could always go up the Pamelia Lake Trail and connect with the PCT from there. I start doing calculations in my head. Mileage. Time. Elevation. Based off of the elevation of the two trailheads, I should be able to reach Pamelia Lake Trailhead by vehicle and then I will march on from there with Ingrid as my trusty sidekick. HOPE. Not even one mile up the road, I run into snow too thick for me to challenge. DESPAIR. I back up, turn around and park the car. I will just hike from hear then. I gear up and Ingrid and I are off.

 

I am amongst the very forest, the very path that I have once walked with the love of my life. All the while telling stories to one another, laughing, loving, hugging, and stopping every once in awhile for a quick kiss. This time it is just me and our dog. Tears roll down my cheek. My heart hurts. I take a few deep breaths and find the beauty that surrounds me, the beauty that envelopes me like one of Tommy’s hugs. I am okay. I can do this. One foot in front of the other. I got this. The tears come and go. That heaviness in my chest returns as if it were an old friend and I continue to put one foot in front of the other.

I did not recover my tent today. I did not make it to Maxwell Butte. I did find my inner strength. Strength to face the unknown. Strength to face the pain. Strength to allow myself the tears and to accept them.  Strength to realize that I am loved. Strength to realize that I am never truly alone.

 

P.S. I love you, Tommy.

To My Love

Dear Tommy, my love,

First of all, I love you and miss you immensely. I wish you were here, my love.

I am trying to be strong. I know you wouldn't want it any other way. My love for you remains as deeply and as passionately as it was before that fateful day. I sleep with your shirt next to me...thankfully we didn't wash all of our laundry before heading up to the mountain that weekend. Your smell has brought me much comfort since I have returned home. I often cry the hardest when holding your shirt and pillows up to my face. These are not bad tears though, lover...they are tears of great memories, shared adventures and the love of a lifetime.

Lover...I am trying so hard to be strong.

As I take a big deep breath in while burying my face amongst your shirt, I have noticed something different. I take another big deep inhale, expanding my lungs to their maximum capacity. I can feel the air traveling in through my nose, down into my chest. I notice something different still. I am losing your smell. It is beginning to fade. My heart sinks. It is painful to think that I may never smell you again. I do not want you to be slowly erased out of my life. I cannot and will not stand for that. I just want to be able to smell your sweetness next to me in bed.

I am trying so hard to be strong for us, lover.

As your smell begins to fade next to me, my wound seems to be opening wider again. I have noticed that I tend to place my back toward your side of the bed. Almost in an effort to ignore the fact that you are not and will not physically be there. I don't like that I am doing this - it feels  weak, like I am a coward, running and hiding from the reality of my new life. I do not want to turn my back on you, my love. You remain the most important person in my life. I don't mean to turn on you.

Lover, my hugsband, I am trying so incredibly hard to be strong.

I have been sharing our story, Tommy. I hope you are okay with that. You and I both know our love was different than most....truly a once in a lifetime type of love. Soul mates if not twin flames. Sharing our story, both the love story and your physical passing has been bringing me some peace. With it bringing me peace, it tells me that you are cheering me on. Everyone says I am so amazing and strong and brave but baby, I feel like the weakest and most vulnerable person at times.

Lover, I am trying with every ounce of my being to be strong.

And then I think of you and your unconditional love and how you supported me in my endeavors, cheered me on, bragged about me. I think of your voice, those eyes that would get me down to my soul, your infectious spirit and the gentleness of your touch. All of that and more, keeps me going. The best way I can think of honoring you and us is to keep going. So, my love, that is why am trying to be so strong. I want you to be proud of me as I am so damned proud of you.

I love you with every tear in my eye, every cell in my body, my whole heart, and every molecule of my being...and I miss you so incredibly much.

All my heart,
your wife, Alison

Strength in Sharing

      

Since the day I was airlifted off of Mt. Jefferson, leaving my husband’s body behind, I have been approached by many reporters. Some sent me FaceBook messages, some called my cell phone, and others showed up on my door step just hours after being airlifted off of Mt. Jefferson. At first, I wanted them to all just disappear and eventually they did. The next big story hit just days after my safe return to my residence…another mass shooting. Eyes were diverted from a mountain rescue in Oregon to Southern California. I had silence and space. Silence and space to attempt to wrap my head around what just happened. Silence and space to realize that my beloved husband was never to return home. Silence and space to try to grasp the concept that my love, Tommy, was dead. Silence and space to try to understand what my life was now. Meanwhile, Tommy’s body remains on Mt. Jefferson. His recovery was thwarted by foul weather coming in and the safety of the rescue team had to be a priority. They secured him to the mountain with hopes of returning the next day. As we await the news regarding his recovery, I have to face the facts and give a statement to the Sheriff. I am sitting on a couch in my sister in laws boyfriends house. I am surrounded by my father in law, both sister in laws, my brother and his girlfriend. I feel as if the entire room is blackened except for this one small and very direct spot light on me. I must recount the events not just for the Sheriff but for the entire family…all at the same time. It is painful. There are tremendous amounts of tears. I stumble over the simplest of words. My chest is heavy. Breathing, let alone talking, seems like an impossible task. What very well could have been mere minutes seemed like an eternity. I was able to get through the retelling. In a way, it literally felt like there was a weight lifted off of my body. I got through the first retelling. I did it. I was comforted by loved ones, pulling strength from each and every one of them. In a weird way, I also wanted to be strong for them. I didn’t want anyone worrying about me in this time where we have lost such an amazing and beautiful part of our family.

After I made it through what happened, making sure not to skip any detail (for this was my police statement), and all the tissues in the house were depleted, it was time to sit and wait for Tommy’s recovery mission. The Sheriff sat amongst us, almost as if he were an old friend. He provided us with updates on the recovery mission, what was delaying the helicopter and such. And then we got the amazing news…it was go time! The Blackhawk was headed back up to Mt. Jefferson to recover Tommy and bring him back home. We were all elated in the darkest of ways. I don’t think anyone was truly ready for what was next. I know I sure wasn’t. The Sheriff kept us informed…even though Tommy was going to physically be in Salem and then taken to the Funeral Chapel in Keizer, we still could not go see him for a few more hours due to the medical examiner having to officially declare cause of death. So again, we hurried up to wait. The waiting game made for an impatient group of people. We seemed to all disperse once we knew the timeline. Some went to other family members houses closer to the Funeral Chapel, some went to grab a bite to eat…and me…I was just along for the ride. I climbed back into my brother’s truck and we went to get lunch. It seemed like eating was one of the most strenuous tasks I have ever had to attempt. Each swallow of soup was beyond difficult. Then it was time. The few hours that the medical examiner needed had passed. It was time to yet again, clamor into the back of brother’s truck for another solemn drive across town to the Funeral Chapel. I remember needing that closure…I needed to know that he wasn’t alone on the mountain anymore, that he was home with those that loved him so dearly. However, I also remember not wanting to get out of the truck, almost like I was safe from reality if I didn’t move. My brother held me as we walked toward the door of the Funeral Chapel. Half way to the door, we were met by the Sheriff who calmly and kindly reported to us that they were going to need more time before we could see him – they were going to need to complete an autopsy before releasing him to us. At the sound of this, I almost collapsed. Again, my already heavy heart, sank to my feet, that heaviness in my chest again, those hot tears rolling down my face. Why? Why do they have to do that to Tommy? Hasn’t he already been through enough? I couldn’t allow them to cut into him like a science project. I had been there when he passed…I saw the progression of the head injury… I witnessed his deterioration…it was classic signs! Why? Being in emergency medicine myself, I know they had protocols, but I just couldn’t allow it. I also realize that Tommy’s spirit was no longer in that body and that he would not be harmed but I couldn’t allow it. I felt extremely protective over him. I wanted him to have just an ounce of dignity left. The Sheriff left me with my brother and his girlfriend, Christina, while he went to talk to the medical examiner. A few minutes later, minutes that felt like eternity, he returned with the news that the medical examiner agreed to speak with me due to my experience as a trauma flight nurse to explore the potential of avoiding the autopsy.

At this point I am escorted into a small room, my brother, Dalen, accompanied me, and we sit around a small table. Around this table is myself, Dalen, the Sheriff, and the medical examiner. Both the Sheriff and the medical examiner have pens and paper out before them. The medical examiner was amazingly kind and was a person first. What I mean by that is, she came into the room, expressed her condolences and gave me the most genuine hug I have ever received from a stranger. Then she proceeds to business. I am faced with having to tell the story…again. This time in even more detail. The details I left out for my police statement actually matter for the medical examiner. She allows me to talk in my nurse jargon. I tell her everything. I do not skip on any details. Those small details that I do forget, Dalen was able to provide me with gentle reminders. “Tell her about the pills, Alison.” “What about him biting his fingers, Alison.” Many wet tissues later, I successfully told the story yet again. At the end of my recap of the events, the medical examiner concludes that she does not have to do an autopsy…that it is clear, based off of clinical presentation, that the cause of death was, indeed, a traumatic head injury. I never thought, that in this moment, that I could actually experience relief…but that brought a small feeling of relief for me. Tommy was released back to me.

I had asked several times about Tommy’s wedding band. Once while on the mountain; unfortunately his hands were frozen and the rescuers were unable to get the ring. The other time was upon arrival at the Funeral Chapel. The Sheriff said that I would get it after the medical examiner was finished. She is finished. The Sheriff asks me, with a great deal of kindness in his voice, “You put the ring on his hand, would you like to slide it off or would you like me to do it?” I was too weak…too scared…too not ready to face reality, so I had the Sheriff recover Tommy’s wedding band for me. He returned a few moments later and handed me a small, black velvet bag and in it, I could feel the ring. My heart sank yet again and that all too familiar heaviness in my chest returned. Yet at the same time, with that ring in my hand I felt as if I was a little closer to my husband, to my love.

 

 

Another milestone was about to occur. It was now my opportunity to be reunited with my lover. It was not a fancy, official viewing where your loved one is cleaned up and make up on. This was a quick and dirty clean up, to make Tommy presentable. Although I had already seen him after he passed away…I did spend 15 hours with his body on the mountain, it was still one of the most difficult things I had to do. Those 20 feet from the lobby to the viewing room seemed as if they would never end. I didn’t want to go alone. Dalen grabbed my arm and made the somber march into the room with me. I would like to report that he looked so peaceful and maybe he did. But in my eyes, all I saw was those last few moments on earth for him. His struggling to breathe. The lack of his spirit in his eyes during those last few moments. I can honestly say, he did not look like he was in pain. And he was still handsome as hell. There was relief…relief that he was home, I was able to get him off the mountain. I remember stroking his hair…his glorious hair and kissing his cold, frozen lips. I remember hugging him and telling him how much I love him. I remember how cold he was…he wasn’t just lifeless cold, he was literally still frozen. I remember seeing some of his wounds and some of his injuries and I remember the immense pain I felt for what he, my love, had been through. Such a beautiful man, both inside and out. My best friend. The love of my life. My twin flame. I couldn’t believe what he had been through. I just wanted to take it all away. I gave him one last kiss…first on his lips, then on his forehead and whispered to him, “I will love you forever, Tommy. I love you.” I left the room, returning to the lobby where I was surrounded by Tommy’s family. I gave a few hugs, said a few good byes but it was time. I had to go…I did not want to stay there any longer. I remember just wanting a hug from my mom but she was still another 12 hours of driving away. I just wanted her to hold me and cry with me. 

 

 My brother drove me from my home in Oregon to my mother’s house in California. After 12 hours in the car, just replaying the accident, watching Tommy take his last breath, the night in the crevasse, the rescue, I was delivered safely to my mom. Once home, surrounded by family and friends, the questions began. Everyone was super understanding and loving and supportive and never wanted to ask anything that would hurt or upset me. I knew that they needed to know. For their own process, they had to know. I was okay with that. Me telling my story had already given his family a little peace…knowing that he didn’t die alone. Me telling my story had saved him from an autopsy. Time to tell friends and family. Details of the incident trickled out to various people throughout the week I spent in California. In most ways, it was beyond painful. In other ways, it was helping me process the event. Long story short, I began finding that telling people about what happened was helping me…that progressed to blogging. A dear friend of mine suggested that I could write out the more intimate details and just save those on a word document, that I didn’t have to post them. I thought that sounded like an amazing idea, so I wrote what I was feeling and saved it to word, turned off the computer and attempted to sleep. The weird thing was, was that this gave me great anxiety! Knowing that it was just sitting on my computer drove me crazy. I woke up and posted it to the blog. Once posted, there was an immediate release of that tension. I cannot explain it.

Throughout this journey, I have met two other young widows in particular that have opened their hearts and lives to me. They have shared their stories with me and have been a driving force for me every day. If they can make it with such beauty and grace, I know I can too. Knowing how much they have helped me makes me want to share my story even more. Maybe some good can come out of this extremely sensitive and vulnerable time for me. I would love to help someone else in the future walk down this path. I would love to be able to inspire someone to chase their dreams, to live a life full of love and passion. I would love to! So that’s what I did, I blogged my story and put my heart out there for the world. Along the road, my HR representative suggested talking to this outdoors writer out of a nearby town. She spoke of him as if I was supposed to know who he was already. I suppose it was the familiar way she spoke of him that spurred me to reach out to him. Zach, from the Satesman Journal in Salem, OR, and I chatted back and forth via email for awhile before agreeing to sit down together for a retelling of the story. He told me what he had in mind – he had a vision of capturing our crazy love story and intertwining the events on Mt. Jefferson. The way he delicately explained his vision gave me a sense of comfort. We met at my house for the retelling of the story. I sat on the couch with a childhood friend of mine. Across from us, Zach and another journalist, Carol, both taking notes and asking questions. I laughed, I cried, I spoke of Tommy fondly, I reminisced, I went through all of those crazy emotions in the span of 3 hours or so. They departed the house and went to work. Zach kept me informed of the progress of the story. We met again to clarify some questions. He went back to work on it. More clarification through texts and then a final phone call to go over the article and its contents. I gave him my blessing and then waited for the outcome. I knew it was to be published Sunday. However, Saturday seemed like a day that would never end. The anticipation was painful. Then I got a message, the link to the online version. http://www.statesmanjournal.com/story/news/2016/01/17/love-and-loss-mount-jefferson/78367928/

It is beautiful.

Selfishly, I am so glad I told my story. I will forever have a small, professionally written novella of my life with Tommy…he captured the beauty of our love and the beauty of that tragic day.

Selflessly, I am glad I told my story. I hope that my vulnerabilities can help or inspire someone. Just one person and this was all worth it.

 

P.S. I love you, husband.

I Went Skiing

 

Tommy, my love, I finally made it out to go skiing. A few girlfriends and I went up to HooDoo for the day and I thought of you often. I thought of our crazy ideas of skinning up peaks just to ski down. I thought of you only wanting to buy the best of the best gear for alpine touring. I thought of us learning to ski together. I thought of you teaching me the basics. Pizza and French Fries! Pizza is still my favorite because that means I can slow down! I thought of you so damn often that day. While being out in the mountains was so cleansing and healing for the soul, being amongst those familiar peaks, where we shared so many memories, was also extremely painful. From the top of the ski lift, off in the distance, Sisters and Bend could be seen....Oh, the stories we have from Sisters and Bend!

 

While about to start my run, I stand still looking around me at this great landscape before me...soaking it all in, breathing in that fresh mountain air. I begin to notice that just about every peak is visible to me from the Sisters to Mt. Washington. Every peak except for Mt. Jefferson. Mt Jefferson lay in the clouds, hidden from my eye. It was almost as if you wanted me to remember the good times and not the end.

 

Throughout the day I could hear your voice, providing me with gentle guidance while on my runs. You gave me that extra boost of confidence at those moments when I started questioning if I was capable of the task at hand. You have always possessed that ability; the ability to bestow confidence in me. The funny thing is, you never did anything except to allow me to realize my abilities and to be proud of them. I love you, Tommy.

 

 

Though I was able to smile and laugh on this day, my heart remains incredibly broken and shattered into pieces. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I have not ceased being your wife, Tommy. You remain my husband...and I remain deeply and madly in love with you. I am trying my best to continue to live the life we have always imagined. To live a life full of energy, adventure, the outdoors, love and laughter. I am trying, lover...I am trying.

 

I hope you are okay with me sharing our story. It is a beautiful story, my love. A beautifully tragic story. Sharing our story is bringing me a little peace...hopefully that is you giving me your blessing. You and I are both typically private people but I jest cannot keep it in. I want everyone to know our love, to experience it, to know you and who you are and what you stand for. What we had was so very special. It was so special that not many will every experience a love like ours. I know that is true.

I love you, sleep well.

Your wife,
Alison Fountain

A Graceful Journey

 



Merriam-Webster defines grace as "a controlled, polite and pleasant way of behaving and as a disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency."

Per Wikipedia, "Divine grace has been defined as the divine influence which operates in humans to regenerate and sanctify, to inspire virtuous impulses, and to impart strength to endure trial and resist temptation; and as an individual virtue or excellence of divine origin."

I am now one month and 11 days into my journey. Yes, the loss of Tommy is still a fresh wound. In fact, some days it feels closer to dismemberment than a wound. There are other days when I can begin to see that healthy, pink fleshy tissue beginning to form around the borders of the wound - an excellent sign of proper wound healing. Then there are other days when all that I see in the wound is black, dead tissue lingering about in the middle - not the black stuff that will just slough off with a little soap and water but the stuff that will need surgical debridement before it has the slightest chance of healing. Then there are still other days when it feels like there is salt being rubbed in those wounds, opening them up until they are gaping and bleeding yet again. This journey will eventually lead to a substantial scar - one that never truly disappears but is always there as a reminder of what was.

Back to grace...For any that has experienced loss before, whether loss of a loved one, a pet, a job or a loss of confidence, you know that the stages of grieving are not always gorgeous. There are a lot of emotions, ranging from nostalgia to sadness to anger to acceptance. Those emotions and different stages of grief don't necessarily go in that order and just because you may accept the loss one day doesn't mean you won't slip back into anger or a sadness the next. Sometimes you may experience all of these emotions in a single day, leaving you emotionally and physically drained and beat up. Despite the emotional battle and struggle, all I can hope for is that I move about this journey of grief in a graceful fashion.

In my short one month and eleven day path, I have already encountered many obstacles on my journey, attempting to distract me and guide me away from grace. I have experienced the backlash from unknown individuals for being on a mountain in the first place. I have fought the feeling of needing to protect Tommy's name. I have experienced others that try to make grieving a competition. I have dealt with inappropriate questions. I have had to deal with financial decisions - which, by the way, stress me out more than anything. I have yelled, hollered even - reverting back to that hormonal teenager Alison that would periodically reach banshee mode. I have dealt with other's insecurities and insensitivities. I have had to tell other's that I am not ready to let go of ashes or belongings. I have had to jump through countless hoops on the business side of death. I have experienced all of these situations and countless more...all in one short month and eleven days and I know there will be many more obstacles down the road.

It is when these obstacles arise and I can feel myself steering away from a graceful journey and down a dark, negative, and low path...it is then that I must take a step back and regain focus on that five letter word, grace. Grace...control...polite...pleasant...kindness...courtesy...strength...endure...GRACE. Others may try to deter me from this quest; however, it is I who is in charge of my destiny and my journey. My only goal is to make this a graceful journey. My only hope is that my journey may help or inspire at least one person...making all of my vulnerabilities well worth it.

Again, as always, I love you Tommy Fountain...my best friend, my light, my husband, my smile, my world.

Here is to one graceful journey!

Much love,

Alison Fountain

The Longest Night

 

“I am so grateful to each and every one of you. You guys were definitely beacons of hope for me from the time I saw your headlamps at 1 am in the treeline to the moment you crested over into the crevasse to the hot cocoa and warm gear. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am glad you are all safe as well” – Alison Fountain in regards to the Corvallis Mountain Rescue

 

After that fateful second, the second in time that changed everything, that second in which Tommy slipped and fell, tumbling down a slope until he landed in a crevasse, things would never be the same. Once Tommy slipped, in the back of my head I knew we were in a bad spot. I did everything in my power to not slip as well. I would put my ice axe in and in then toe in with my crampons for three steps down, then ice axe again and then toe in. With my ice axe still embedded in the ice and my right hand gripping that ice axe so tightly, I would try to reach in to my pocket to grab the cell phone and check the status on any communications with my mother regarding search and rescue attempts. When I got her message about needing to confirm, my heart sank. It felt like I just had a big empty hole in my chest where my heart should have been. What else do you do in this situation? Well, I kept going. Ice axe, toe in. Everything was racing in my mind from dropping my gear, to trying to traverse to be faster to even sliding down on my butt, like glacial glissading. I knew these were all bad ideas. So the slow process of my safe descent remained in effect.

Once I made my way to Tommy, an hour and a half after the fall, I was torn. A huge piece of me knew we weren’t in a good spot but another part of me thought that we both just might make it through this. I was tearful in panic and adrenaline that I went into survival mode with a flair of trauma nurse mode. At one point, I even started thinking of ways to decrease the pressure in his head. We carry vicodin with us in the event of a minor injury and thought that could be beneficial to him. I went into the top of his backpack where the pills were and instantly broke down. Everything in the hood of his back pack was demolished. The pill bottle broken, the pills pulverized into powder, headlamp in pieces. I lost it. To see the force that could cause all of that....to understand what my poor husband had just been through, it crushed me.

 

I also moved him from the center of the crevasse, where we were still in harms way from falling ice boulders from higher up on the mountain. I tried to keep him as safe as I could and as warm as I could. Constantly checking in with him, “Tommy, are you still with me? I love you. Help is on the way.” His responses were always, “I’m here. I’m with you.”

 

Once the first helicopter came at 7pm, I was ecstatic, crying with the thought of help arriving. I was elated that Tommy was going to get help, I could care less if they would’ve left me up there over night. I just knew that he needed to get to a hospital and get help. I remember running over to the opening of the crevasse, jumping up and down, flagging my arms, and flashing my head lamp at them. When the spot lighted me, I dropped to my knees because I knew Tommy was going to be okay. He was going to survive. Then, they disappeared into the darkness of the night.  I couldn’t stop yelling at them to come back. Sobbing and yelling. Now I had to return from the opening of the crevasse and tell Tommy that they left and that we must now prepare to spend the night up here.  I remember telling him that if we were going to make it, we had to make sure to keep each other warm. At this point, he still had the majority of my clothes on including an extra pair of pants that I found in one of our packs. I had to help him put the pants on, he wasn’t able to do hardly anything. After the first helicopter left, my brother sent a text saying they were trying to get the national guard out there that night...again, I had hope. I knew they were stationed in Salem and I know their capabilities (They have helped down in southern oregon with quite a few long line extrications that we then rendezvous with them to get the patient). I knew if anyone could get Tommy off the mountain, it would be them. I told Tommy everything that was going on, his confusion was increasing so I had to frequently reorient him and tell him that they are working on getting the national guard out and they will be here soon. I knew they weren’t coming...I just knew but I didn’t have the heart to tell Tommy.

As the night and his confusion progressed so did his difficulty breathing. I sat him up, leaning him against the side of the glacial wall to help him breathe. He was beginning to have signs of respiratory failure, so I tried the only thing I could think of to assist his airway. I tried to open his airway by performing a basic jaw thrust maneuver; however, he was too agitated and mildly combative that it was causing him more agitation that it was doing good for his airway. Increasing his agitation level would just make the swelling in his brain even worse. It was then that I did my next reassessment and told him to look me in the eyes, that’s when I saw  what I was dreading to see. His left pupil was “blown” which means it is completely dilated and it was unresponsive to light. His brain was swelling too much that it was impinging on the brainstem. At this point, I knew Tommy’s death was impending. His breathing continued to worsen. He couldn’t speak but garbled mumbling. I straddled him and just held him in my arms and couldn’t stop saying, “I love you Tommy. You are so strong. I love you. I am so sorry. I love you so much. You are my soul mate. I love you baby. I am so glad we met. You are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you honey. ” Within minutes, he took his last breath while in my arms. I held him and kissed him, uncontrollably crying. The finality of what had just happened was beyond devastating. The time: 8:44 pm. A time and date that will never be forgotten, forever burned into my memory.

After that dreadful moment in time, I texted my brother to let him know that Tommy didn’t make it. Minutes after that, I texted him to “please come and get me. I can’t be on this mountain anymore.” The messages never went through.  I knew I now had to prepare for the longest night of my life. What kept me going? Tommy. Tommy wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He was always so proud of how strong I was and how determined I could be. I just knew I had to make it. I survived to keep living the life Tommy and I always imagined. He wouldn’t want both of us to go. I did it for Tommy and I plan to continue to honor Tommy in all that I do. I set up my beacon at the opening of the crevasse. I laid out gear at the mouth of the crevasse so rescuers could see a debris field in case I couldn’t run out there fast enough. I tried to prop myself off of the snow as best as I could. I used both pairs of our snowshoes to create a platform for my legs. Used his backpack as a makeshift bivy, placing my legs in the pack and then tightening up the drawstring around my knees. I would lay with my head on Tommy’s chest and lap, knowing it would be my last chance to do so. I would always tell Tommy that my favorite place in the world was when I was laying on him, where his arm meets his chest. I just wanted to lay in that spot as long as I could but then the reality of everything would set in and the cold would force me away from my favorite spot. To the laps I went. I would walk laps from Tommy to the opening of the crevasse to not only keep warm but to also look for signs of rescuers.

 

Once the ground crew was on their way, I would frequently check their progress and then return to Tommy and lay back down with my head on his chest. I would still speak to him, tell him what was going on and also tell him when I was too cold and that I would be right back. I knew I should’ve tried to save my headlamp batteries but I also couldn’t tolerate the darkness and the isolation of being alone in this crevasse. It almost felt like I wasn’t alone as long as that light was on. I remember going out to check on the rescuers when it was still night fall and I recall them flashing their light at me. They saw me! They were headed in the right direction. Watching their headlamps and their progression served as beacons of hope for me throughout the worst night of my life. Then back to Tommy I would go. I did this routine from midnight until morning. Once dawn was upon us, I knew my flashing headlamp was of no good anymore, so I tied a red bag that we had in our packs onto my ice axe and left that at the opening of the crevasse. I needed to ensure that the rescue team still had some sort of visual point to aim for. At one point, I stopped going out to check on the rescuers because they were one crevasse below me and I just wanted to get all the time I could with Tommy before we were taken off of the mountain. I remember the first rescuer cresting over into the opening of our crevasse and he said, “Hi, my name’s Tyler, I’m from Corvallis Mountain Rescue. I will be down in just a few minutes with hot food and drinks for you both.” That’s when I lost it yet again. I looked up from Tommy’s chest and cried out, “He’s dead!” Tyler  turned back to say something to the rest of his team, something I did not hear but can only imagine what it was. He then immediately unclipped himself from his roped team and ran down to me. He gave me the most genuine hug and condolences that I ever could have imagined. He stayed with me until the National Guard was able to air lift me off of the glacier. In our time together, I had mentioned to Nate that there were a few items that were very special to me and that I had to have them. He told me I couldn’t take anything with me during the air lift but he would make sure I got them. He helped me pack my bags, paying special attention to those special items. I got my bags back when they recovered Tommy’s body off the mountain. I couldn’t look through my stuff, it was too raw. But the next day, I was left to my own devices for a moment and I started looking for a few of the items that I just had to have...they were gone! They weren’t in my bag where Nate and I packed them...I lost my mind! My brother called the Sheriff and they called the rescue team. The rescuers personally took my prized possessions to ensure that they did not get lost. They boxed them up and I was able to retrieve them later on. Everything about the Corvallis Mountain Rescue is amazing and special. I cannot thank them enough. They were truly my knights with shiny ice axes and headlamps. There will always be a special place in my heart for the 5 rescuers that day; not because they assisted me off of the mountain but for their kindness and sincerity and amazing spirits.