Page 45 of A Thousand Broken Pieces

I felt like everything between was going at hyperspeed, like we were in a vacuum where we felt and experienced more than we ever would back home.Our emotions were high and we were grasping onto moments that lifted us and made us feel seen.

I felt more than seen by Cael than I had by anyone before. Being as introverted as I was, it was almost impossible for me to let people in. But he’d gently knocked on the door to my heart, and carefully stepped inside. He hadn’t barged in, hadn’t slammed it open. But softly, carefully, asked to be let in.

And I liked him being there. But it terrified me too.

Cael took hold of my hand and leaned against the bus seat’s headrest, oblivious to my affectionate thoughts about him. He closed his eyes, and it gave me license to really study him, unobserved. He was so much more than I’d given him credit for at the beginning of the trip. I’d seen his tattoos and gauges, his stormy eyes and clenched jaw, his cutting outbursts, and assumed he was cold and brash. Someone who didn’t want the company of others.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was kind and pure and sensitive. I wanted him to heal from his brother’s death as much as I did from Poppy’s. I’d still only received breadcrumb details over his brother’s death. And that was absolutely fine. Due to the nature of Cillian’s death, I expected it was almost impossible to speak about without breaking.

Since we’d been in Norway, I’d sensed more of a change in Cael. I wasn’t sure we could do what we’d set out to do—to forget our grief for a little while. But we were trying, and I did feel lighter. Without grief’s heavy weight pressing down on my neck, I was able to look up and see the sky. See the stars, the sun, and the moon.

I was about to see the Northern Lights.

I’d had a one-to-one session with Leo yesterday. We’d talked about CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy). It wasn’t the first time I’d tried it. It was a way to reframe my thoughts. Turn them on their head to find a deeper meaning within them. Back in Georgia, Rob had tried it with me too. The difference here was thatIwas willing to try. Back home, I’d been a veritable statue, soul-trapped inside of my frozen body, unable to break free from grief’s ice-cold fists.

Here … my body had begun to thaw, allowing me totry. And Iwastrying. Here in Norway, I’d been trying more than ever. Rune had tried thatapproach with me too. That instead of being sad that Poppy wasn’t here with me, I should experience this for her—for us both.

It wasn’t simple, and it wasn’t easy. And if I let my guard down for as short a time as just a few minutes, sadness tried to crash against me with the force of a tidal wave. But I was fighting back, at least for now. I was embracing the brief reprieve of peace.

As I stared at Cael, sleep taking him to safety for a while, I hoped that was true for him too. I stared back out of the window again. All that greeted me was snow. Miles and miles of snow, nothing else in sight. The bus crunched on the ice beneath its tires, and I laid my head on Cael and let the smell of sea salt and fresh air dance around me.

If someone had told me several weeks ago that I’d be here right now, with a boy I liked, in Norway, about to see the northern lights, I would have thought they were lying.

But if life had taught me anything, it’s that it can change on a dime.

It was nice for the universe to show me that it wasn’t always for the worse.

The sun began to lower in the distance, and I could already see lark-natured stars waking and casting their brightness into the not-yet-dark sky. It was as though they wanted front seats to the show we were all about to see.

Stars … they would always remind me of Poppy. When she passed and I was searching for a meaning to her loss, or when the urge to see her again became so overwhelming, I searched for anything to carry a sign. The stars became that for me. Space was vast and mostly unknown. It made sense to me that Poppy could have become a star after she passed. She’d shone bright enough in life that she would blaze in the heavens. For months after her death, when the wound was raw and disabling, seeing the stars had always brought me a small amount of comfort. At night, I would trick myself into believing I was seeing her again in the sky. Some nights I wouldn’t let myself sleep until dawn broke and the stars had disappeared.

Just so she wouldn’t have been up there, all alone.

I was younger then. Maybe it had been a silly fantasy, a way to cope. But even now, at seventeen years old and almost four years into her absence, I still stared at the stars and missed her.

I’d once read a book on the aurora borealis. Why it happened and the many myths and beliefs different cultures had given for its existence. The one that was standing out to me right now was that it was ancestors stepping through the celestial veil, showing their loved ones they were okay. Deceased souls appearing to our eyes to reassure us they were still living, in some fashion.

At that thought, a dart of sadness hit against the protective bubble I’d created around myself, trying to break in. But I held strong and pushed it away.

Then I felt two squeezes of my hand.

I tilted my chin up and saw Cael’s sleepy eyes searching my face. I gave him a watery smile, and he kissed me on my head. Tucking back into the padding of his coat, I took solace in the quiet of the bus.

A while later the bus came to a stop and our guides made themselves busy creating a viewing spot for us with chairs and cameras and hot drinks. As I stepped from the bus, the bitter coldness took away my breath. The breeze sailed into my lungs, and each breath I took felt like it was scalding ice-fire.

I pulled my scarf over my mouth and reached for the hot chocolate we’d been provided. As I held Cael’s hand, we took our seats—side by side—as dusk quickly fell over the land. I could see the faint flickering lights of Tromsø in the distance, but out here, we were isolated and witness to the eye-opening vastness of the sky that cities and towns often disguised.

Stars seemed to pop into the sky one by one in quickening succession. I was transfixed as constellation after constellation began to appear, looking clearer and more profound than ever before.

The entire group of us was silent, waiting for the burst of color that was expected. I gripped on to Cael’s hand so tightly I worried about hurting him. But he was gripping my hand tightly in return. Unified breaths were held as a flicker of green began to descend from the sky. I stayed stock-still, like any movement would disturb the shy thread of light and scare it away.

But then it flared again, only this time it had grown in strength, like it was stretching its arms and legs after a long sleep. Green neon began to shimmer and drop across the black sky like a glittering curtain.

Before long, the entire sky was filled with green light, the flares reflecting off the white of the snow, increasing its stunning effect. Stars were sprouting in the billions, sparkling like the most expensive of diamonds. It was the greatest show the earth had ever seen.

A sense of peace so profound chased through my every cell, and I felt tears begin to fall down my cheeks. Sitting here, underneath the endless sky, I could see why people believed it was the visiting spirits of our loved ones. Because seeing this felt like seeing Poppy again. My heart swelled, my soul singing with the beauty and grace the lights gave, dancing to a song only the sky could hear.

A sob slipped from my throat, one I couldn’t hold back. But it wasn’t a cry of sadness or loss; it was one of breathlessness and wonder and admiration so strong it seemed to radiate from me as brilliantly as the lights before my eyes. ItwasPoppy. This was all Poppy. She had been vibrant and bright and breathtaking. She had lived for only a glimmer of time, but she had lived it boldly. She had embraced every moment life had given her …

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