Ski Trip Leads to Tragic Goodbye

It was a rainy day in the Sierras, perfect for a quick breakfast rather than skiing. With the ski season nearing its end, the damp weather made warm coffee and a hearty meal the ideal choice. Not wanting to take up a whole table in the busy restaurant, I spotted another solo diner looking for a place to sit and invited him over.

He came to the table with a monstrous breakfast burrito, a huge piece of coffee cake, and a cold drink that looked like it belonged at a beach party. I made room, assuming he’d have company for all that food, but he quietly mentioned, “I’m alone — just hungry.”

My partner and I were on our spring ski and biking trip from Colorado to the Sierras, while Ellie stayed back in our camper, soaking up the Wi-Fi. I expected a quiet meal where I could scroll through the news uninterrupted, but my new friend didn’t seem to mind the quiet either.

After a while of silence, I decided to break the ice with some casual chit-chat about where he was from and the weather. I concluded by noting, «With a breakfast like that, you must have a big day planned.» He smiled, then revealed that he wasn’t hitting the slopes; instead, he was catching a bus home shortly.

«This whole trip has made me so stressed that I’m eating everything in sight,» he shared. The man was chaperoning a large group of students from a Christian high school on their ski trip, and that pressure was full-on.

I commented on the difficulty of managing a bunch of teenagers in a ski town, to which he agreed, saying, «Christian kids are still kids.» He then informed me about the heartbreak they experienced during the trip.

“We lost one of our kids,” he said, and the news hit me hard. It turned out that the student had an accident and fell down a flight of stairs.

Sitting there across from him, what can you really say? I offered my condolences and asked how the rest of the group was handling the loss. Surprisingly, he said they were coping pretty well. Their strong faith in the belief that their friend was in a better place seemed to provide them some comfort.

The notion of believing in an afterlife came up, and I wondered how much solace that provides to people in tough situations. I didn’t want to press too hard, but I eventually asked if he was absolutely sure that the young man was in fact in a better place.

He confidently replied he was as sure as he was that we were having this conversation. He mentioned that once he moved past his skepticism, life became much more fulfilling for him and that his belief helps him find meaning amidst life’s unfairness.

As he prepped to leave, he turned the question back to me. I confessed that though I’d love to have that certainty, I shared more of a skeptic’s perspective, much like the apostle Thomas.

As the conversation wrapped up, he graciously thanked me for sharing the breakfast table and expressed his hope that someday I might share his conviction. Before leaving, he placed his untouched coffee cake in front of me and smiled with a kind of peace that was infectious, reminding me that belief, true or not, can indeed offer comfort.