The picture above is my late grandson, Pete. He died in a horrible accident in the early hours of July 5, 2010 at age 21. He’d been celebrating July 4th with a group of buddies on a wide ledge three miles up a mountain road. Dropping a powerful lit firework, he jumped backwards and fell 100 feet to the canyon floor. He died instantly from a skull fracture and part of my heart died with him.
Since his death, we keep two 5×7 photos of him on an antique dresser in our dining area. In the picture above, his eyes follow you wherever you are. That happened to me this morning as I passed by and it grabbed tightly at my heart strings. That’s not the norm because I pass that picture a thousand times a day. Therefore, I stopped to look at it and was overcome with a powerful need to go up where he fell, which has become his memorial site. I grabbed a little pumpkin that I always buy for him each fall, filled a small bag with candy corn, grabbed my camera and my husband and we headed out.
It didn’t take long to notice the magnificent fall colors we were surrounded by as we climbed up the mountain road. This is the prettiest fall we’ve ever seen in the 33 years that we’ve lived in these beautiful mountains. It was absolutely breath taking all the way there and all the way back.
It was only 44 degrees at Pete’s Place and it is snowing there as I write this, which means the leaves will now be gone. So I am grateful for that little tug at my heart strings this morning. It ended my tears, got me outside, lightened my heart and brightened my day.
If you’d like to know more about Pete and his story, click on the “about” button at the top of this page.