A Love that Climbed Mountains

Rolf and I met at a graduate international student picnic at Devil’s Lake, on the outskirts of Madison, Wisconsin. It was a magical place — a lake carved by glaciers, surrounded by forests and cliffs.

His eye caught mine. There was some talk of oriental philosophy… and we clicked.

A year and a half later, we got married. Three years after that, our first baby, Stefan, was born. And then came Mattias.

Our boys quickly became the most important thing in the world for us. And nature — nature was the thread that connected our family.

Rolf insisted we take a short hike when Stefan was between 2 and 3 weeks old. We sat by a creek, and Stefan was mesmerized by the running water. Both of our boys became “wild goats,” climbing rocks from an early age. It was nerve-wracking for me sometimes — but I always knew he was doing the right thing.

Patience was not Rolf’s strong suit… but when it came to putting his kids to sleep, he would pace in the middle of the night, holding them in his arms, singing “Yesterday” by the Beatles. He didn’t know any lullabies — but it didn’t matter. It worked.

Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but there was true love and commitment.

I’ve always been a social butterfly. Rolf, on the other hand, avoided most social gatherings. But we agreed on the most important things in life.

I knew I had found an extraordinary diamond in the rough.

Our boys had a luxury father — someone who taught them so much. And I had the best outdoor companion I could have dreamed of.

Our love was profound. We had good chemistry, a shared spirituality, and a vision of what mattered most.

As a child, I dreamt of wild paradises — but grew up in a suburb with some nice trees and little access to real wilderness. I had the seed of a connection to nature. Rolf watered that seed carefully and made it grow into a giant tree.

I am so grateful to him for guiding me, for encouraging me to climb high — literally and metaphorically — to see the big picture.

On our latest trip to Patagonia, we both admitted something:

He wouldn’t have made it to the end of the world if it weren’t for me… and I wouldn’t have made it either if it weren’t for him.

That trip was a dream come true. Rolf climbed all the way to the base of Mt. Fitz Roy — an 8-mile uphill feat — and he made it. He was so proud of himself. And I was too.

We spent almost 39 years together. We accepted our differences and lived full lives with love, respect, and mutual admiration.

It is so deeply sad that it ended so abruptly and unexpectedly.

But as a family, we made him a promise:

We will honor his memory by remembering his teachings — and by staying united and supportive of each other.

I am profoundly grateful for all the support we have received from family and friends.

Community matters.

And we will stay strong — because of it, and because of him.

Thank you all for being here and for being part of Rolf’s journey. We carry him forward in our steps, our memories, and our love.