I am a former ice and rock climber, and expedition mountaineer.
It was an exhilarating pursuit and, though I came close to death a couple times, I enjoyed every moment I spent in the mountains, ascending a frozen vertical waterfall, and clawing my way up sheer rock faces.
I also had several friends who didn’t just come close to death, they lost their lives; and I had the pleasure of meeting some remarkable alpinists, though never climbing with them, who lost theirs as well.
The adage is “the mountain never gives up her dead” but in eras gone by, and more frequently in the last ten or so years, occasionally circumstances happen that allow grieving survivors a rarity in the world of climbers. They get the chance to experience closure and put loved ones to rest, though the clear majority will never have that chance.
They will, as anybody who is close to a climber knows they may, simply be left to look up at the mountain and remember because memories are all that are generally left behind.