Conquering Kilimanjaro: A Journey with Joseph
Grief is a mountain unlike any other — steep, unpredictable, and often shrouded in silence. For Evan and Marie Pucillo, that mountain began on February 9, 2021 — the day they met and lost their son, Joseph Angelo.
Joseph was born prematurely and lived for only a few hours. That same night, Evan nearly lost his wife, Marie, as she underwent emergency surgery following a traumatic hemorrhage. Though doctors were able to save her life, the emotional wounds cut deep, and the journey forward was anything but clear.
In the years since, Evan and Marie have taken life one step at a time, raising their two living children — Elena Rose (7) and Giovanni (2) — while carrying the memory of Joseph in every heartbeat. Through the pain, they’ve discovered that healing isn't linear. It takes shape in the stories we share, the connections we foster, and the mountains we dare to climb.
A Mountain Worth Climbing
Now, nearly five years later, Evan is preparing to climb a different kind of mountain — Mount Kilimanjaro.
At 19,341 feet above sea level, Kilimanjaro is the tallest free-standing mountain in the world. It’s a fitting metaphor for the path of grief Evan and Marie have walked: daunting, exhausting, yet navigated with courage and determination.
In February, 2026 — what would have been Joseph’s 5th birthday — Evan will begin a 7-day ascent to the summit in honor of their son.
This climb isn’t just about the physical challenge. It’s about presence. Memory. Love. It's a way of saying: We remember you, Joseph. And we carry you with us — always.
Why RTZ HOPE
In the darkest hours after Joseph’s passing, Marie found solace and support through RTZ HOPE — an organization dedicated to helping families survive the unimaginable loss of a child. During a time when the world felt especially isolated due to the pandemic, RTZ provided a space for connection, compassion, and healing.
Now, Evan and Marie want to give back.
They’ve launched “Conquering Kilimanjaro: A Journey with Joseph” — a fundraising campaign benefiting RTZ Hope. Through this campaign, they hope to raise awareness and funds so that other families navigating similar heartbreak will have access to the same care, support, and community that carried them through.
How You Can Help
You can support Evan’s climb — and Joseph’s memory — by donating to RTZ HOPE in honor of each mile he hikes (approximately 42 miles in total). Whether it’s $1, $5, or $10 per mile, or a one-time gift of any amount, every donation brings them one step closer to their $10,000 goal.
Your support doesn’t just honor Joseph — it offers hope, healing, and resources to families navigating the most heartbreaking loss imaginable.
Join the Journey
This isn’t just a climb. It’s a story of resilience, remembrance, and love. It’s about finding purpose in pain, strength in sorrow, and hope on the horizon.
Join Evan and his community as he takes each step up Kilimanjaro — for Joseph, for healing, and for the many families who still need to know they’re not alone.
Updates & Press Coverage
view evan’s journey in real-time
A post-climb message from Evan
To all our supporters,
Our hearts are overcome with gratitude from the outpouring of support in our efforts to raise funds and awareness for RTZ Hope. We were able to raise over $11,000 for this wonderful organization in honor of our son, Joseph Angelo. Our quest on Kilimanjaro was a smashing success – but the journey is far from complete.
Yes, we summitted the tallest free-standing mountain in the world; Yes, we achieved our fundraising goal; Yes, we honored all the families who have suffered the tragic death of their child. However, thousands of families are impacted by infant loss each year. These losses shred the deepest parts of our souls and impact us in ways we could never imagine. Families need continued support, compassionate care, and a place to seek healing. RTZ Hope is one such place, and your donations to our Kilimanjaro campaign have made that possible – Thank you!
Climbing Kilimanjaro was a deeply emotional and cathartic journey – it challenged every ounce of my being. In reflection, I am still touched by the overwhelming complexity of emotions even months after the journey. From Day 1 at the starting gate of Kilimanjaro National Park Tanzania at around 9,000ft above sea level, the mountain appeared enormous and consumed the entire horizon. Kilimanjaro truly seemed insurmountable, much like our grief after losing Joseph. I often stared up at the summit with bewilderment and questioned my ability to conquer what lay ahead – it was an all too familiar feeling.
Slowly, for the next five days, our team of expeditioners took one step after another closer toward the summit. There were times filled with sorrow when tears inexplicably streamed down my face, and times filled with elation when all I could do was smile and wonder at the beauty. Our team consisted of some of my best friends, men who would help carry me emotionally up that mountain. The mountain was unpredictable and ever-changing, and the terrain was constantly challenging our forward progress. It was steep uphill, steep downhill, rocky, cloudy, sunny, windy, slippery at times, and the altitude…well, breathing was always a task.
We finally reached Barafu base camp on day 5 at 15,000ft, and we were thoroughly exhausted. At midnight, we set out for the summit on just three hours of sleep. For the next 7 hours, we hiked in the pitch-black darkness with 0-degree temperatures and 10-20mph winds. Any skin that was exposed would be frostbitten – our toes were numb, fingers frozen, and spirits humbled. I wanted to quit at least twice on that 4,000ft night ascent – but I knew that I had already conquered the most difficult thing in the world.
We lost all sense of time and space in the dark of that night attempting to summit – akin to the months after losing our child. In the year after Joseph’s death, Marie and I were shattered. I was a robot, and a shell of a man. I was an absent father and a distant husband. There were nightmares and disturbing thoughts. I wished I could just quit on life – our baby had died in my arms, and I watched helplessly as Marie lay bleeding to death as a result. I was paralyzed with grief, stricken with sadness, and taken by the trauma.
I wrestled and reconciled all those horrors on the side of a cold, dark volcano in Africa. Yet, just like our lives, we kept moving…we kept stepping forward. During the summit hike, we were borderline delusional and catatonic, only able to place one foot in front of the other in a robotic manner. We snaked our way up the steep and narrow trail in a single file line. We were led by our guide in the front setting our pace, and a guide in the rear ensuring nobody fell behind. Our only light was provided by a dim headlamp, and we were entranced by the cadence of footsteps. We studied in detail every stitching on the boots of the teammate in front of us for hours. It was painfully slow, and painfully cold – it felt like an eternity.
One team, One Dream! Hakuna Matata!
Then, slowly, out of nowhere amidst the darkness, the horizon began to illuminate. At first, it was a faint easing of black and fading of the sparkling stars in the milky way overhead. Then, bright oranges and pinks and purples slowly climbed up over the clouds rising like warm steam from a boiling pot. In those moments, our team became rejuvenated with hope. We could now see the mountain, we could feel the warmth, and we could appreciate the hour as we approached the summit – the rising sun was our savior. Finally, seven long hours after we started, we took our final steps toward the true summit of Africa at 19,341 ft above sea level – Uhuru Peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro! We did it! Our entire team made the summit, and we made it together. Much like overcoming our grief in losing a child, we could have only done it together.
The journey up the mountain was full of similarities and valuable lessons. For example, gratitude and a deeper appreciation for all that we’re afforded in this life – try to never take anything for granted. Humility, respect for limitations, and knowing when to get help, and when to be a helper. Adaptability and resilience to be able to respond positively to change and bounce back when you crumble. Happiness and sorrow, because even our most joyous times can be filled with sadness, and our saddest times can be filled with joy.
Our family greatly appreciates your support on this mission. Future families of infant loss will, too – RTZ Hope is now sustained for their benefit. If anyone you ever know loses a pregnancy or infant, please feel free to direct them to RTZ Hope and the Sad Dads Club. These losses are unique, and impact mothers and fathers in very different ways. Remember to be kind, be sensitive, and know that sometimes you don’t need to say anything – just be present for those you love. Thank you!
All our love,
The Pucillo Family
