The BEAUTIFUL TRAGEDY OF LIFE: A TRIBUTE TO A GREAT MAN

Believe it or not, at the center of functional medicine, is spirituality. Lately, I’ve been feeling the grief and existential questions arising as I remember the life and death of my Uncle Bob, who died tragically on June 17, 2012, while kayaking Lake Superior. It’s interesting to me that 13 years later, the grief can still hit so hard.

The tragedy of loss is part of life, and I oftentimes ask myself, “How do I live freely knowing that everything I have will eventually be lost?” Impermanence is, fortunately and unfortunately, a truth of life, and when we lose loved ones, this reality can feel jolting.

I’m not a religious person, but I consider myself a seeker of truth. It’s a spiritual journey filled with many questions, awe, fear, and joy - well, it’s a rollercoaster! The loss of my Uncle Bob has impacted me much more deeply than I ever would have imagined, and intermittently guides me into a deeper spiritual inquiry about life, death, and the meaning of it all.

This post is a more personal one, but I feel moved to share my own journey of spirituality in the light of my late Uncle Bob. One aspect of my spirituality is the interconnected nature of everything, including how we live on through each other. Uncle Bob was a soulful man. I feel his soul still lives on through us all, through all of the ways he touched our lives: music, laughter, adventure, beauty, stories, and so much more. Reflecting on his life and death is moving me away from the question of, “How do I live freely knowing that everything I have will eventually be lost,” to “How can the truth of interconnection guide me in living freely knowing that everything I am will live on through others.”

Let me start by sharing some of Uncle Bob’s story...

A Look at the Life of Robert Weitzel, aka “Uncle Bob”

Uncle Bob was born in 1954 and was the second of what would be seven children. When Uncle Bob was seven years old, his younger brother, Greggy, died at the age of 18 months with pneumonia. This loss created a gaping hole within the family unit, understandably so. My mom (Bob’s little sister), was only three years old when she lost her little brother. All of the surviving children (along with those yet to be born) were left with the unanswered question of “why” and the unresolved trauma that pierced everyone in the family.

As Bob grew up, he carried the spirit of Greggy with him and had a yearning to share his adventures with his little brother, who never got to experience this wild ride of life. Bob was an adventurer! He was so deeply connected to nature and loved pushing his limits within the beauty of the wild. He never had children of his own, but he became a guidance counselor at a high school in Wisconsin, and became truly beloved by his students.

He always wanted to serve those who were underserved. He never let a child believe they were “less than” because of disability, socioeconomic status, or any label that we so often discriminate from. Every summer, he and his wife would take a class of kids to Crested Butte, CO, for the wildflower festival. He knew the healing power of connecting with nature, and he wanted to share this with as many kids as possible.

I’m not entirely sure what drew him to Lake Superior, but he began embarking on adventures around this oceanic lake. One summer, he set out to ride his recumbent bicycle around the perimeter, only to be cut short when he was hit by a car. Thank god he survived, but it’s very “Uncle Bob-like” to not be deterred by something like that. His next dream was to kayak around Lake Superior.

He took years of lessons and set his sights on raising money for at-risk youth, while also dedicating the trip in Greggy’s honor. Here’s a look at his goal for “Soloing Lake Superior”…

The Tragedy on Lake Superior

When I heard he was going to kayak around Lake Superior back in 2012, I envisioned a peaceful little jaunt around the perimeter of a serene lake. I had no clue the level of danger involved in this adventure, and, only until today, did I really see what he was up against. My aunt, his little sister of 13 years, posted a bittersweet article about his death, and in it was a link to this video that I never had the chance to see because I didn’t know it existed.

Uncle Bob was ahead of his time vlogging! These are the types of videos that go viral these days, but Bob didn’t care about that. He was dedicated to his worldwide mission of supporting at-risk kids and giving them a second chance at life along with his deep internal mission of integrating the tragic loss of his brother, Greggy,.

The following video, uploaded four days before his death, documented the first 10 days of his trip. I couldn’t stop crying as I watched it, remembering all of his mannerisms, the sound of his voice, and his subtle sense of humor. I found myself asking, “What made him so moved to do something so dangerous?” He had a wife, his siblings, friends, health, nieces and nephews, students…he had a lot to lose, and if you watch to the end of the video, it’s apparent he knew the dangers as well.

I recall June 17, 2012 so vividly. It was Father’s Day, and we were out at the golf course with my dad in Colorado Springs. My mom called and asked if we could come by afterwards because she didn’t want to cut our time short with our dad on his special day. As we stepped foot in the door, the awful words came out of my mom’s mouth, “Uncle Bob died.”

It felt as if every ounce of energy was drained from my body, and I just dropped to the floor sobbing. We held each other for a while, trying to process the death, which is just something that none of us will ever fully process as living humans. We mourned together, and then we celebrated his life together.

Uncle Bob was cremated, and we made it a point to visit every place he loved and sprinkle some of his ashes in those special spots. We went to Crested Butte, CO, where he and his wife would take students every year for the wildflower festival. We sprinkled them atop Pikes Peak where we had hiked, enjoyed his one-of-a-kind “GORP” (i.e. he made it primarily M&Ms), laughed about poop and farts, and spent 26 miles and the whole day together on “The Pike” (as Bob called it). Bob was a free spirit, and it felt appropriate to let his bodily remains fly free in the wild places that he loved.

Integrating Beauty and Tragedy

Last night, I was sitting outside and feeling the heavy grief of his death. As I looked around, there were hundreds of fireflies twinkling in the dusk light. It was the epitome of life, marked by both its beauty and tragedy. I think this was part of Bob’s mission on Lake Superior, to integrate these aspects of life: the awe, beauty, and vastness of the natural world and the impermanent nature of it all.

We were able to pull up an archive of his website, “Soloing Superior Inside-Out,” and I found it very fitting what was posted at the bottom of the home page:

Uncle Bob lived his life to the fullest, and he did go out on his own terms. Although it felt like a tragedy, it was a calling for him. I will never understand the full extent of his motivation, but I do find moments of peace knowing that he was doing something he loved within the great spirit of nature. So, although his physical body is no longer in the form we’re familiar with, the spirit of nature—that spirit that eternally connects us all—has transformed him in a way that will forever keep us connected.

My Spiritual Reflections

When I contemplate how to balance the beauty and tragedy of life, it’s easy to try and solve this puzzle. In “solving” it (whatever that means!), it might give me some sort of peace and understanding. In many ways, I wish I were religious so that my mind could believe in something that would give me solid ground. Religion, when used appropriately, can serve as a sense of safety within a somewhat unpredictable world.

But because I’m just not wired to believe in a religion, I continue to seek a truth that feels authentic to me and that might allow me to more fully live life with a reverence for both the beauty and the tragedy of life. My Uncle Bob’s life and passing can serve as a reminder of how to do that.

We might learn from him:

  1. How to live life to the fullest.

  2. How to share our gifts with the world while we still have time to do it.

  3. How to ponder and reflect and find solace in the great mystery of life without having to figure it all out.

  4. How to ensure that when we are no longer here in our physical form, that our loving spirit lives on in all of those we touched.

I’m forever grateful to the man, Uncle Bob, and to his eternal soul that continues to bless our lives in mysterious and awe-inspiring ways.

Things to Ponder

I imagine we all have our “Uncle Bob” who left us too soon on this Earthly plane but who still lives on through us. How do they still live on through you?

What is it like to feel this interconnection?

I would love to know what allows you to integrate the beauty and the tragedy of life.

In remembering how deeply interconnected we all are—across time, space, and even life itself—how might that awareness inspire us to live with greater care, intention, and compassion for ourselves and those around us?


I would love to hear your thoughts and reflections. You can comment below or send me an email here. Looking for support on your own spiritual path? Book a free Discovery Call!

Theresa Kulikowski-Gillespie

Theresa Kulikowski-Gillespie is a functional medicine physician assistant, mindfulness meditation teacher, author, Army veteran, mother, military spouse, and former elite gymnast. As a gymnast, she was a member of the 1995 World Championship Team, the 1996 Olympic alternate, a 14-time All-American and an all-around and 2xNCAA champion at the University of Utah. After her gymnastics career, she became a physician assistant and served in the Army, deploying to Tikrit, Iraq, before leaving service in 2012.

Her own decade-long healing journey through complex health challenges led her to functional medicine and mindfulness. She completed the ADAPT Functional Medicine Practitioner Program, has completed all required trainings with the Institute for Functional Medicine, and earned a mindfulness teacher certification through Tara Brach and Jack Kornfield’s program in 2021.

Theresa has authored Beyond the Battlefield and Beyond the Chalk Box. 

She is dedicated to empowering retired athletes, veterans, and chronic illness warriors on their path of self-discovery, health, and optimal performance through functional medicine, introspective practices, nurturing community, and fierce compassion. 

https://www.mymindfulmedicine.com
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