My Brother Pete

I live in the house I was raised in, the longest constant in my life. Almost as long a constant has been the house here in Olympia, the house of my brother Pete. I lived here for a year after high school, my first attempt at finding myself. I’ve come back for many notable events in my life: the lumberjack misadventure; resupplying during my first PCT journey; a vacation while Cindy was pregnant with our first child Noah; our family’s thru-hike of the Wonderland Trail. Now We’ve spent the last few days here regrouping and preparing for another PCT journey, the one that will give Cindy the Triple Crown.

Another constant in my life has been the influence of my brother Pete. Nineteen years older than me, I looked up to him almost as one might father, in large part due to his accomplishments as a mountain climber. Pete has a first ascent up Denali, headed up the rescue team of rangers at the Grand Tetons for eight years, was invited on the first American Everest Expedition in 1963, led one climbing rescue that was written up in Sports Illustrated and another rescue that earned his team the Congressional Medal of Valor. I wanted to be a mountain climber just like my big brother until I fell in love with long distance backpacking instead.

When I first saw Pete a couple days ago, my sister-in-law Connie claimed he recognized me and had tears. We saw him at the group home where he now resides, wheelchair bound and in the final stage of Alzheimer’s. We saw him again last night at the home of his daughter Melanie as we joined his whole clan for a belated Father’s Day gathering and a viewing of The Grand Rescue, a documentary about his Medal of Valor climb.

The assessment of everyone there was that Pete enjoyed himself, more for being surrounded by family than for being lauded in a documentary, which he may or may not have absorbed. For my part I was grateful for being able to give my brother a parting embrace. Chances are I will not see him again.

On both occasions that we saw Pete I was concerned as to how Cindy would react. She is well on her way towards that final stage, yet is so much more vibrant than her wheelchair bound brother-in-law. Would seeing Pete be a gruesome reminder to her of what is to be? Mostly she appears to be imbued with the aura of Hope we’ve been creating for her, though she did seem a little subdued at bed time.

Slowly, I witness the constants in my life fade around me. All things must pass. I just wish we could have more control in the manner of their passing.