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Nikolas,
I wanted to let you know how deeply you have touched me.
For nearly seven years, I have been living in an emotional pit. It is a tragedy to me that just as I have turned the corner, one of the people most responsible for helping me to do so has passed out of my life. I owe you inestimably. And it is a debt I can never repay.
I know that somewhere, you are shrugging, and saying “glad to help” or “cheers, mate”. I know that you have already forgiven my debt to you. But I will carry it all the rest of my days. Thanks to you, and a few others, those days will be longer than they might have. My BASE jumping is maturing, and you are in no small part responsible for that. I am turning away from the desperate struggle to fill the gaping wound in my soul with frantic, dangerous jumping, and discovering that I can instead fill it with the friendship and love I have found among BASE jumpers. I hope to one day record and share this journey, and dedicate the account to you (if no one wants to publish it, I can at least post it on the BASE board in serial installments, but I’ll miss the psilly responses I know you’d offer). If I’m lucky, perhaps I’ll get to be the second one to make such a dedication.
While I regret many things I have done during this time, I know that you were right, that they were necessary for my growth, that it was worth the cost to expunge my personal demons, and to help cure my need for the drug we call black death. I will never forget that afternoon when so many of our brothers walked away rather than witness my madness. I will never forget that it was you that stood by me, and accompanied me to the exit point for final gear checks. I will never forget that you were far more frightened for my safety than I had ever been. You may have disapproved, but you saw that I needed your loyalty, and it touches me still that your concern for me may have been the only thing strong enough to lead you into conflict with some of our mates.
It saddens me to have alienated so many during my personal struggle. I can still hear you telling me “I’m just doing this for me mates” as Yuri and I rode away from CP in your car. While I have expressed this to others, I doubt you ever knew that those words, so quickly forgotten by most, will echo in my soul forever. In future, I will aspire (imperfectly, as always) to jump with more of your spirit, more of your acceptance, more of your tolerance, more of your hospitality, less of my anger and, most importantly, less of my pain.
I am certain that I am not alone in thanking you for my life (even I have family who would be touched by my passing). I am equally certain that your influence is causing a collective sigh of relief in some BASE circles (I owe so many apologies, to so many jumpers, for inexcusable actions I will never be able to adequately explain, but which I know you, and a few others, understood). I will continue trying my flawed best to give back to our sport, and I will always jump, but I feel your hand guiding me away from the ill-conceived black death jumps I seem to be known for.
Knowing you infused me with your spirit. But it was an epic, frostbitten night, wrapped in our canopies, shaking off spindrift, trying (again) and failing (again) to reach the spiritual center of my BASE experience, it was that night that burned your indomitable spirit into my soul. That shared epic will forever be one of my fondest memories—and I will continue (unsuccessfully) trying to convince our friends that you never faltered (you were so unlike you, that night). I take some comfort in knowing that I could repay the support you offered me for so long, by offering some measure of reassurance during our snowbound epic. But I will regret, to the end of my days, never being able to share that site with you. In your honor, I hope to use my next jump there, made in your memory, to become closer to a new friend, who, tragically, it took your death for me to finally make time to meet in person. I know I swore not to return there until we did so together, and launched a two way. I think you would approve of my decision to break that promise, and share the jump.
Thank you for the lighthearted wisdom, the comradeship, and the constant support. I can still hear your weekly calls to make sure I wasn’t talking to the evil woman—“Thomas—It’s Nikolas!” Aside from you, only my parents call me Thomas. Somehow, it just seemed right to hear it from you. I’ll try to keep that last promise I made to you on the phone, and make the cut-away stick at last. Thank you, really, for just being you. You helped keep me alive in my darkest hours. I will never know how much your passing tipped the balance for me. It will be my enduring personal tragedy that I am certain that your death was a pivotal moment in my return to life.
I know, more than most, that you were never perfect. But the perfect part of your soul left an indelible mark where it touched mine.
I will never forget that you bought the last pint we shared, the day after our frostbitten epic, as well as the first. From now on, Nikolas, first pint and ground crew will be on me. And I will toast your spirit every time I raise a pint with new friends.
Cheers, Mate!
- Thomas
