Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Cael’s eyes were haunted, and like me, I knew he’d been here before too. I imagined we all had. The triggers were awful. How a seemingly okay day could turn into a nightmare just by a familiar scent passing by, a memory resurfacing, or a million other things that made you remember your loved one was gone.
Grief was walking through a minefield with no protection or guide.
So we walked. With my arm through Dylan’s, and Cael staying close by, we walked. We scrambled up gravel paths and carefully navigated a treacherous route called Striding Edge. We ate our lunch overlooking breathtaking views, then descended what had originally felt like an impossible climb.
When we reached the bottom, red faced, chill-slapped, and breathless, Leo said, “Turn around, guys.” We did, seeing Helvellyn lording above us once more, looking both majestic and domineering. “Look what you’ve just accomplished,” he said, and his words penetrated deep. “You climbed this. Even when I’m sure you didn’t think you could.” I exhaled a long breath and felt a bloom of pride burst in my heart. We had done it. I had. “Now, let’s get back to the hostel and warm up.”
I sat beside Dylan on the bus home, my arm again linked through his, hands held tightly. He didn’t talk again that evening, but he held my hand in his like a vice. Cael sat on the seat across the aisle, his headphones firmly in place. But like he felt my gaze, he turned my way. “Thank you,” I mouthed. Cael’s nostrils flared, and he curtly nodded his head in acknowledgement. Then he turned away, posture once again rigid and sealed off.
As night fell, I stared out of the window. We had done it. We were broken, and exhausted, and emotionally drained. But when we returned to the hostel, something inside of me had calmed. The oxygen that gave my grief life, like it was some living thing that existed inside of me, had been extinguished … for a little while, at least.
And I fell asleep. No nightmares. No insomnia. Just sleep.
I’d never been more thankful for a night of complete and utter silence.
* * *
“How did you all find yesterday?” Mia asked. Leo and Mia had gathered us in the living room for a group session. I wrung my hands together. I understood the premise of group sessions, but I never felt they worked for me.
“It was good,” Travis said.
“I enjoyed it,” Lili tacked on.
Mia smiled. “Good. Soon, we take on peak two: Scafell Pike.”
Leo leaned forward in his seat. “But today we have our group sessions, and soon we’ll start some one-on-ones. The rest of the day is yours. Maybe, for some of you, a chance to start your journals.” Leo carefully regarded Cael, who was sitting, arms crossed and staring outside of the window. I was pretty sure he hadn’t been given another one. It was obvious it wouldn’t be welcome.
I blanched at the thought of the journal. I was still unsure if I actually could do it.
“Right now, we want to do some breathing techniques,” Mia said. “For many, when going through grief, bouts of anxiety can be a common experience.” I stared at my fingers, at the clear nail polish that was now starting to chip. “Anger can also be a heady emotion to deal with,” Mia continued. “So we want to equip you with some tools to help cope if and when those times arise.”
“They are also good for mindfulness,” Leo added. “So, please, sit up straight in your seat and close your eyes.” I did as they said, straightening my spine. “I want you to inhale through your nose for eight seconds,” Leo instructed and counted out loud. “Now, hold that breath for four seconds. Listen to your heart beat. Hear its rhythm in your ears. Then, breathe out for four seconds.” My shoulders relaxed a little. “When you panic or are stressed, this can be a great tool to help refocus and control what you feel is uncontrollable.”
I placed my hand over my heart and felt it beating underneath my palm. “Sometimes,” Leo said. I kept my eyes shut. “When we think of the ones we lost, we can feel powerless, out of control. This exercise can help you feel grounded.” At his words, I automatically saw Poppy on her deathbed. Saw her in her casket, laid out in the front room of our house, Mama and Daddy rarely leaving her side, Rune sleeping on the floor beside where she lay. Refusing to leave her until she was lowered to the ground … where he just took up residence instead.
My heart fired off into a sprint at that memory. I could feel anxiety’s talons begin to stretch inside of me, ready to take me in their hold, but then I breathed in for eight and held my breath for four. A ghost of a smile pulled on my lips when I heard the pace of my heart and felt it begin to slow, my panic subsiding until I could exhale a normal four-second breath. I had been taught this technique before, of course. But here, it was working. Maybe it was distance from Georgia where I lost Poppy or the peaceful ambiance of the Lakes that made this time help. Maybe I was subconsciously opening myself up to healing. I wanted so badly for that to be true.