A kid from our old neighborhood died over the weekend. He was the younger brother of a friend of my daughter Rachael’s, and the same age as Micah- eighteen, a high school senior. The fact that he fell to his death from a local mountain deepened my shock and empathy, because both of my sons love  climbing.

Micah and Jake are careful, in the context of an endeavor that requires one to pull oneself up rocks hundreds or even thousands of feet in the air using rope, cable, and grip strength. They have climbed Half-Dome in Yosemite and are planning a week-long boulder climbing trip next month. I know they are careful, but it’s hardly a sport that attracts the cautious, and mistakes happen.

Why can’t they feel the same affinity for golf or tennis? Sometimes I just want them to play it safe, but then, what’s to prevent a slow death from disease, or getting hit by a bus on your way to the convenience store?

So you tell your kids, live.

I actually went this young man’s Facebook page. I don’t know why. Maybe I was looking for something that distinguished him from Jake and Micah, so the commonalities would seem less disturbing.

He liked The Red Hot Chili Peppers and the movie Fight Club.

His final quote was Why give a fuck?

A climber should not be asking this question.

Even more than training, equipment, or ability, giving a fuck is the number one prerequisite for climbers, or for parents of climbers. You have to give a fuck, because you don’t fall alone. You take down everyone who loves you.

To my vast relief, my sons definitely give a fuck. And even though part of me would love for them to find a safer pastime, I can’t help but admire their joy and determination. The only thing I find myself wishing for is the absolute certainty that they will outlive me. But that’s not how it works.

So you tell your kids, live.