Open Mic is the series on BLISTER where we invite various people in the outdoor industry to say what they have to say, and share whatever it is they feel like sharing at this particular point in time.
Today, we hear from Angel Collinson:
I.
Do you ever wonder about, after you die, what people will say about you? What would they compliment, how did they actually view you, what stories would they tell?
I think about it often for some reason. Not in a morbid way — more in a self-check way: am I living a way I would want to be remembered for? Am I treating all the people in my life in such a way that what I leave behind would be pure reciprocated love?
In the days since Hilaree’s death I’ve noticed the trend that happens after a person passes: people write the most eloquent, beautiful tributes to them. Stories, memories, photos, complimenting the person’s heart, character, and light. It makes me cry seeing just how loved the person was. I always have the thought: I hope they can somehow hear all of it, even though they’re gone. That they can see and feel all of the flavors just how much and how deeply they were loved, by so many people! I imagine the words of love outpouring in their wake floating up and creating a breeze that carries them and fuels their angel’s wings to aid them in their crossing.
I believe the world could use so much more soul affirming words, reflections, praise, and encouragement in the here and now. I think we assume people know how great they are and we don’t take the time to tell them and list out all the ways. Until it’s too late.
I can’t speak for everyone, but my personal experience (and most others that I personally know) is that I focus much more on the shadow aspects of myself and assume that is how the world sees me. My interior world is often riddled with self-doubt, anxiety, self-criticism. I’m constantly working hard to love myself more and better. From the outside I get the reflections occasionally that I’m capable, adventurous, positive, inspiring. It lifts me up and buoys me every time I receive those words, yet if you were to ask me to describe myself, those aren’t the words I would use…. It feels good to have reflected our positive and admirable qualities, and it inspires me to be more loving, giving, selfless, and kind, to others and myself.
We all have our own experiences of each death. And since this one, I have been reflecting on one of the things that struck me about Hilaree: she was so damn good at this — she was always giving compliments and taking the time to remark on what she admired you for, encouraging you from her humble and extremely accomplished perspective. Hilaree was one of the rare people that took the time to make you feel seen, for who you really are, and she loved you for being that person.
Hilaree: I honor your heart and spirit by vowing to take a moment of each day and week to tell people just what I think of them, BEFORE they’re gone, be it a handwritten card, a voice note, a text, an email, a phone call. To let them know how DEEPLY I love them, and what I love them for. To take the time every week to connect and recount memorable stories that illustrate their light- to help them find their way home before they get lost or so they can bask in their own light before it goes out. And to enjoy making that act simply a part of what I do, who I am. To automate that habit like I automate all of the other habits I work on.
And yet, the true warriors of love are the ones still here, carrying the spirit of love in spite of the grief, in spite of the loss.
II.
When I was 20 I had my first close encounter with death. My boyfriend at the time, Ryan Hawks, and I were traveling around the Freeskiing World Tour circuit together, and we were head over heels in love. I was having a super successful season, winning many of the stops (as well as some on the other side of the pond at the FreeRide World Tour in Europe). We joked that maybe he’d get Dad’s approval as long as I kept up the winning streak.
On Cloud 9 life was dreamy. We had countless powder days together that season, at Revelstoke, Crested Butte, Snowbird, Kirkwood… He was from the East Coast, and I couldn’t even come close to keeping up with him in the trees: it always felt like a game of chase. He was the most positive person I’d ever met, and still to this day, the only person I know that truly loves skiing in the rain?!?!
We’d set our alarms early to watch the sunrise together, eat Willy Wonka candy at all hours of the day, and listen to Jim Morrison’s American Prayer spoken word album as we dove into all matters of the heart and life and dreams. It’s hard to sum up how you know when true love strikes, but it’s safe to say we were thunderstruck. It was the deepest and truest love I had known.
Until it came to an abrupt halt.
At the competition in Kirkwood, watching through my binoculars I saw him absolutely stomp this 50-foot backflip off a cliff…. And crumple to the ground. He got life-flighted out and died a day and a half later due to internal injuries: turned out he landed on some rocks under the snow that caused major internal bleeding.
There is no manual for us on how to grieve and how to process death. There is no one way. There is no “right” way.
What I quickly realized was just how uncomfortable we are talking about death…. How afraid of it we are — perhaps especially here in the U.S. Just talking about it feels taboo — which is crazy, because it’s going to happen to all of us!
What I learned through my own process was that not all cultures view death with as much sadness or fear as we do. And other cultures definitely talk way more about it.
Early in my grieving process, I learned that in some indigenous traditions they treat death as a celebration, as a graduation. That felt right to me somehow, and it was definitely the most helpful perspective I had come across to help my own healing. Why not think of death like that?
So I decided to approach it that way: that he had graduated, and it was worth celebrating him in all his splendor, and the beautiful life he led. And the grief was not his grief, it was mine, and mine alone to figure out how to deal with.
I’ve never experienced such an aching hole as the way you are ripped open by the loss of someone you love. It’s the absolute worst feeling by far I’ve ever encountered.
But knowing that it was my grief to own somehow felt empowering, even if it wasn’t a roadmap. In the moments I felt I was losing myself into the black hole of despair, I would think to myself, “What would Ryan think of me sobbing on the couch while it’s a powder day outside? Would he want me to be here feeling sad for myself, or would he want me to get outside if I could?” So I’d muster up the energy to put on my ski pants and head out the door (this is not a recommendation to bypass grief- more of a frame of how I would move forward when I couldn’t see a way through).
I know all of our experiences with death are different, but to me, the gifts that Ryan gave me even in his passing were the best gifts of my life.
He helped me learn how to talk about death in our culture, and that just talking openly about it more often is actually super healthy and can be healing for so many people.
He taught me to not be afraid of my own mortality and how to cultivate a better relationship with death. That death is hard on those left behind, but it doesn’t have to be so scary.
Looking my own mortality in the face helped me to really LIVE more. To lead a life I’m fulfilled by, and stoked on.
He opened the doors to my relationship with my own spirituality and my relationship to the depth of my own being, of my own life.
He taught me what it felt like to be really loved — and to not settle for less than how he made me feel. I was terrified I’d never find it again…. Nine years later I did.
He taught me (both from his passing and also when he was alive) the only things I have control over are my attitude and my effort.
And though it was the hardest thing I had to go through, it shaped me more than anything else I’ve experienced- shaped me into the resilient, positive, and compassionate person I am today. 11 years later, I like how I have grown.
I know not all deaths can be wrapped up with a neat bow and a silver lining. I’ve kept a relationship with his parents and sister and lifelong friends, and it’s different for them, and still much more painful. Sometimes I feel guilty that I still don’t grieve as much as they do. But when I sit with it, I know Ryan would want me to feel joy and love in this life. And so I try my best to do that.
Again, in the wake of Hilaree’s death, and each one we experience, I’m reminded of the importance death shows us of taking extra time to love hard on the ones you care about. To go out of our way and take time daily or weekly (like really, to automate this habit) of telling people WHY they are so awesome and WHAT we love about them, via voice note, text, hand-written card, email, phone call, etc (we are never too busy for a quick lovebomb and there has never been an easier time to connect/communicate!). Not waiting to say it in a post after they’re gone, but doing it to their face, all the time, just because.
To Jim and the rest of Hil’s family: I take time every day for you, in my prayers, heart, and being. It’s not enough, but it’s love from at least one Angel.
So much love to all of you reading this.
May love heal and light your way.
About Angel Collinson
As Angel puts it, she is a “skier of mountains, baby sailor of boats. Singer of songs, hounder of rocks. Haver of good times and lover of this planet.”.
Well said. Thank you for the prompt to take the time & say it now.
Well said. Work hard and play hard, and look to every morning with gratitude.
Very powerful! Thank you for reminding us how precious life is and how truly fragile we a
Your writing shines from love and affection for Hilaree, Ryan and all the people you hold dear. I will bring it with me as a reminder of telling friends and family, all the persons that touch, support and inspire, how important and loved they are before they become angels.
Thank you so much for this Angel, you are so wise beyond your years! Your honesty, openness, vulnerability inspire me every day.
Angel, Such deep beautiful words. Thank you for sharing. We recently lost my 22 yr old nephew Jack to cancer, a glioblastoma. I will share your thoughts with my brother Tim, my sister in law Nancy and nieces, Quinn & Jane. The void is so deep. Pushing thru to be grateful for Jack’s short 22 yrs of life and find a place in our heart for his “graduation” will help us all heal. Thank you for being open and vulnerable. Extremely helpful.
PS-I gave my 3 sons, Mikey, Billy and Tommy a framed copy of Ryan’s Core Principles of Living. What a special gift and legacy Ryan left us all.
Keep Living the special way you do,
Love
Jim
so, so very true.
Always inspiring ❤️
Thank you Angel
Thank you for this.
Very well said, and thank you for the motivation to lovebomb my loved ones more often.
Hi Angel,
What a beautiful expression of self and tribute to Ryan. I would add one thought to your perception of death. I would offer that grief is a privilege that is magnified by the depth of a meaningful relationship.
Because I believe that Ryan’s spirit is a current event I think of him and respect him in a current sense (sans body).
I accept the black hole of grief and treasure it as a privilege but I am not guided by it.
Every day I work to earn Ryan’s respect both as a person and as The moving force behind the Flyin Ryan foundation. There is no question that Ryan’s spirit has had a meaningful impact on thousands of people who never met him in life. It is a privilege to carry the torch on his behalf
My suspicion, Angel, is that you will be remembered in much the same fashion as Ryan. I count my relationship and that of the Hawks family with you as one of our lives most precious treasures. You are a very special person in every way and we love you
Thank you for this moving essay. It seems very much in line with Ryan’s principles of living.
Thanks
Great pertinent and heartfelt words from one who has traversed both sides
I am always amazed at how micg we pay tribute and celebrate after a tragic even such as a loss of life
She was wonderful and my age. So it hits me
I take solace in that she went doing something she loved, with the elements
And yes celebrate life. Whilst here
Namaste
Anna
I recently talked with a friend about the passing of her mother. She said “not many people want to talk about her, they just want to offer their condolences, but I want to talk about everything she was and still is too me”. We are connected to this earth, flora, fauna by the string of life and death.
Thank you for writing so eloquently about both life and death and the opportunity to tell people in our lives what they mean to us not after their passing but throughout their lives.
Beautiful, thank you Angel. I’m inspired now to write “why I love you so much” cards to all of my friends and family.
❤️
Love this.