Since then I have been asked many times if I, too, am a climber.  The only mountain I've attempted is this one called "Grief," a treacherous, unpredictable peak which has drained my mental and spiritual resources, as well as my physical strength.  Many times, when I thought I had reached the summit, I discovered I still had some distance to go.

During that time of struggle, my first act each morning was to "count my blessings."  Yet despite the fact the list was long, I found it difficult to tell God "thank you" for them because I knew he was aware only part of me was grateful.

Then why did I put myself through that each day?  Because I was frightened by my own diminishing love of life and I didn't want my son to lose his.  My objective became showing Heath the need to appreciate all of life's experiences, holding them close and acknowledging in a positive way the beauty and the brittleness of life.

In an attempt to accomplish that I came up with a small but powerful prayer which we said each day:  "Thank you, Lord, for your gift of life and all the experiences it offers."  And out of that struggle came the victory of the summit, for eventually I meant those words.

Again and again, I thank you, Lord, for your gift of life and all the experiences it offers.