Is there no greater teacher in life than death?
According to Ernest Becker, the large majority of us live in denial of it.
But what if you couldn’t live in that denial?
My friend Kyle was diagnosed with brain cancer in his early 20s and wasn’t given long to live. His time was so short, his father bought him a small house in the Rocky Mountains to live his remaining days in tranquility. Those remaining days turned out to be 20 years. And what an adventurous 20 years they turned out to be.
Kyle approached life with a curious attitude. Kindness and generosity were his second skin. He was intellectual and humorous. And the life of every party.
I met Kyle late one night at Laffin’s apartment in Boulder. We’d been out drinking somewhere on the Pearl Street Mall. Laffin had some marijuana back at his place, so our small motley crew of MFA students stumbled over to twist a few up. While passing joints around Laffin’s living room, I found myself occupying a wall and felt someone staring at me. Across the room next to the window was this bearded hippie, wearing a multi-colored knitted beanie with tassels. He was looking at me with a goofy, wide-eyed expression. Chalk it up to my inebriated senses, but Kyle looked like he wandered off the set of The Dark Crystal. We started cracking up at each other. Instant friends, or friends reunited from a past life, it’s hard to tell—but for the next 3 years, Kyle and I started hiking and camping all over Colorado.
Kyle’s enthusiasm for life was infectious and unmatched. That was our vibe—a zeal for life, for experience, for stories to tell around campfires.
Kyle was there for a couple of firsts of mine. He was at Keystone when I finally learned to snowboard. He was there when I summited my first 14er. Kyle was the first of my friends to meet Aspen at our log cabin in Buffalo River country. He was there when I got the call that my sister Betina died. He convinced me to summit another 14er in her honor.
When Kyle and I first started to hang, he was strong, healthy—it seemed his cancer was a thing of the past. It wasn’t until 2017 that I truly realized otherwise. That’s when he came out to visit my family and me in the Arkansas Ozarks.
He was on a big road trip coming back from Florida on his way home to Colorado. He was with us for a couple days, spent most of it in Buffalo River country. He was doing a round of chemotherapy and was a bit physically shaken, but his spirit was as positive as ever. We had a blast.
I didn’t see Kyle after I returned to Colorado. He was really struggling and was immunocompromised during the times we planned a rendezvous. It saddened me to follow Kyle’s decline on YouTube.
I’m grateful for the memories I have of our adventures, conversations, and the good times we had. He was one of my most profound teachers, and I’ll always remember him for the bodhisattva he was.
