Day 43

At overnight camp, a day feels like a week, a week feels like a month, and a month, one long year.

43 days at camp is a lifetime.

We spoke to Eli via FaceTime the morning of July 15, 2021.

Day 43.

I happened to be watching old videos of my Dad, who had died seven months earlier, and was feeling sad when he called. I tried to hide it, but when he saw my face, he immediately knew something was wrong.

When I admitted how I was feeling at that moment, he said, “Dad, we’re friends, you don’t have to hide your sadness from me.”

He really saw me, us, you.

We talked a few minutes more, about his campers, his day off plans, the NBA Finals and the status of his mustache.

We hung up and that was it.

If you’re lucky, at a certain point in your relationship with your kids, you become both a parent and a friend. The truth is, Eli always knew we were friends. He’d say it all the time.

It took that phone call, that last phone call, for me to realize it, too.

The photos below were in Eli’s camera roll and capture his 43 days at Tawonga, from his perspective.

Of the hundreds of photos on his phone, these hurt the most, because we know what he was going through, and we know how it ends.

He was grieving the death of his friend Ross and trying to process it, which in retrospect, is impossible in the early days, weeks and months of a shocking tragedy.

He looks different in these photos. Not quite himself. You can see the sadness in his eyes. Or, maybe it’s just my reflection I see.

Either way, he was working hard to lean into joy and be present for his campers, while seeking out support from his friends, who he loved, and who loved him back.

He was becoming a different version of himself.

An even better Eli.

The first photo was taken on June 3, 2021 in Groveland, CA.

The last photo was taken by Eli at Cherry Creek River on July 15 at 11:45am.

An hour later, he jumped in a waterfall, like he’d done many times that summer. This time he was pulled under by a river hydraulic or a current or something that wasn’t there before. What was it? Why? What was he thinking?

Was he careless, or carefree? It doesn’t matter.

It feels like forever, and at the same time, he was just here.

And everyday, I’m still shocked he’s not living his life.

Can’t bring him forward.

Don’t know who he would be.

His life is done.

Only know who he was.

A good person. Our sweet oldest son.

Jesse’s brother and role model.

A bright light.

My friend.

November 2023