Awful, scary. My son loves climbing things. I enjoy a bit of indoor bouldering, I'd love to get him into it, but I'm terrified of him deciding to do silly shit like free soloing.
I've been climbing on and off for 30 years. Most people are not "free" soloing as it's called in the US (just soloing in the UK). If he's the sort of person that's attracted to those kinds of things he'll find other dangerous stuff to do anyway like sky diving, riding motorbikes. Most climbing is relatively safe although accidents do happen from time to time often due to complacency.
I'm sorry to hear this much loved person has died. RIP
I know this terror as a parent now, and recognize just how scary it must have been for mine. I was one of these kids growing up; I didn't free solo but I found plenty of cliffs to jump, steep hills to bomb, and difficult dangerous things to do in the ocean beyond the watchful eyes of my parents. I don't believe there was anything they could have done to prevent this. I also think that they recognized this, because while they always cautioned me to be careful, instead of trying to prevent my adventuring they consistently prepared me with training, information and opportunities to (semi-)safely test my limits.
I recognize myself in my son now, and while I also am sometimes terrified of what that might mean, I think my parents took the right tack and I'm trying my best to do the same. I'd rather he's a strong swimmer, a trained climber, a confident adventurer, than an adolescent just taking risks in defiance.
I used to climb up in the roof of my parents terraced house and walk along the steep roof towards my neighbours. The drop was 3 floors on both sides and I would do this in the middle of the night as a teenager (I was "inspired" by Daredevil comic books).
Looking back on those moments now as an adult, the hair on my skin stands up just at how incredibly stupid and dangerous it was.
I sometimes think of my parallel selves in other worlds, and wonder how many of them are dead and how my family progressed through the grief, from this action alone