Echoes from the Wild: What Loss Taught Me About Living

Sep 10

Words & Images by Lona Downs

For those who might one day walk this path…

The wild has always been my refuge. Out there among mountains, rivers, and open skies, I am reminded how fragile and fleeting life truly is—and how beautiful. That is why I lift my camera: to hold on to what matters, to find light in the shadows, and to tell stories that keep me grounded in gratitude.

Today, September 10, 2025, I want to share a reflection I wrote a few years back, born out of loss but carried forward with love.

Snow-covered Antarctic mountain peak rising through soft clouds, symbolizing endurance and the weight of loss. — *“The weight of loss endures, yet like these Antarctic peaks, it also teaches us how to stand tall.”*

*(Image captured March 4, 2024 off Half Moon Island in the Antarctica Peninsula)*

On this day, 9/10/2009—sixteen years ago—the worst news a mother could ever hear knocked on my front door. The two formally dressed men didn’t have to say a word—I already knew. It was only the confirmation of the horrible, sick feeling I had carried all day. You see, a mother knows. Once that bond is there, it’s always there. No matter the age, no matter the thousands of miles, it’s there.

It takes time to process the finality of death—especially the death of your child. In those early days, I used to ask God “Why?” while walking in what felt like a black hole. I wanted to scream, to run from the pain. The world was upside down, and nothing made sense.

Over the years, the sharp edges of grief have softened. The ache is still there, but it no longer swallows me whole. Time has not erased the pain, but it has given me space to breathe, to carry it differently.

And today, I don’t ask why anymore. Now, I say, “God, thank you.” Thank you for the time I had with him. Thank you for allowing me to love and care for him. To watch him grow in his short time here—to witness his zest for life and the enormous growth he made in becoming the man he was at his death—and in all of this, he taught me everything I need to know about life.

He taught me that life is meant…

to be lived fully, without fear or shame.
for love.
for growing, for pushing yourself to the limits to discover who you really are.
for caring and compassion.
for joy and laughter.
for forgiveness—of others and of yourself.
for standing on principle.
for teaching.
for dancing like no one is watching—and not caring if they are.
for going to bed each night knowing you gave your true best, and waking up ready to do it all again.

And most of all—he taught me that life, no matter how brief, is meant to be embraced with gratitude.

And… this is why I create through photography.

Through my lens, I continue searching for the beauty of life—in the sweep of a wild landscape, in the fragile light across a mountain ridge, in the fleeting glance of a wild creature. Each photograph is my way of honoring what he taught me: that even in loss, there is still light, still love, and still life worth carrying forward.

For those who might one day walk this path, may you find that light, too—out in the wild places, where life’s echoes remind us to keep living.