To Be Continued

When I was young, at least five years ago, I almost died on a mountain in Colorado. I'm sure that I've been close to death before and since that moment, but this was the only time I've been actually conscious of death, in this case, able to see my death as I walked away legs still shaking.
We were on one of our last family vacations, visiting my Aunt and Uncle in Boulder. I don't remember if they had climbed the mountain with us. Thinking back now, I'm sure that my parents had wanted to visit the Rocky Mountains, the presence of family was only an excuse and a place to stay. They wouldn't have phrased it as coldly as I do, but I'm trying to view this from my parents' eyes, and I find parts of my own calculations intruding on what should be their thoughts.