10/15/2026
Five years ago today, my dear friend Olan Martin took his own life.
The following evening, I found myself watching the sun set over Wilson Peak from a distant viewpoint, trying to make sense of a world that suddenly felt so much emptier. I remember watching the last light disappear behind those mountains, wondering how something so beautiful could exist in a world that could be so cruel.
I’ve returned to this mountain many times since then, and it’s always an emotional experience. This photograph was taken on a quiet morning, from a different viewpoint than the one I stood at five years ago. But the feelings remain the same. The grief, the helplessness, and all the things I wish I’d had the chance to say.
I’ve struggled with my own darkness over the years, and I know how cruel the human mind can be. How difficult it can be to recognize the beauty of being alive when simply existing feels like more than you can bear. I wish I could’ve shown him all the beautiful things that were still waiting for him.
Five years of seasons changing, of snow falling and melting, of the earth carrying on as though nothing happened. And perhaps that’s the cruelest thing about grief. The world doesn’t stop when yours falls apart. The sun still rises, the flowers still bloom, and you grow older while someone you love remains forever the age they were when they left.
I don’t think grief is something we ever leave behind. I think love simply has nowhere else to go, so it follows us into everything we find beautiful.
I wish you’d gotten another five years, Olan. I wish you’d known that whatever darkness you were carrying, there was still so much light left in this world for you. More than anything, I wish you were still here to see it.
Until we meet again. I’ll keep finding you in the morning light. This one’s for you, bud.
