Page 57 of A Thousand Broken Pieces

“WOW,” LILI MURMURED FROM BESIDE ME.THE SIMPLE WORD ECHOED HOWI felt inside, awestruck at the magnitude of this stunning building. One that I had seen thousands of times on TV and in books. That I now stood before. It felt like a dream.

The morning sun cast the white marble under a burnt-orange glow. Cael’s hand tightened on my own as the vast wonder stretched before us.

“The Taj Mahal,” our guide, Fatima, said, “was built to honor a great, lost love.” Goose bumps broke out along my body. “Shah Jahan built this in honor of the wife he adored. Mumtaz Mahal died in childbirth in 1631. Shah Jahan was distraught. She had been his entire world, and now she was gone. He wanted to immortalize the woman who had been a constant by his side, so he built this tomb to show the world just how much she was cherished.”

Fatima turned to face us all. “The Taj Mahal has become one of the seven wonders of the world. Yes, because of its stunning architecture, but also because in life, we will all experience loss. And we will all honor our loved ones in some personal way.” Fatima smiled. “The Taj Mahal is a place wherebeauty meets death. Where loss meets eternity. Where grief meets honor. It is truly a wonder to behold.”

As we toured the famous building, Fatima told us of the domes, the history of how it was built. “White marble was specifically used so that the light changes the hue of the tomb throughout the day. Sunrise brings a visual symphony of oranges and reds; evening creates a masterpiece of the blue and silver of the moon. All the world’s natural beauty encapsulated in one single day.

“If you’ll follow me,” Fatima said and guided us to the inside of the tomb. The decoration, the detail, the wealth that had been poured into this building were flawless. Next came the gardens. Water features and plush greenery made a garden of Eden from the landscape. All I thought as I passed through every inch of this vast memorial, was how much Shah Jahan must have loved his wife. Like our paintings in Goa, this was a tangible representation of what she had meant to him. He made the woman he adored known to the entire world.

The power of his love had done that. It was almost too much to comprehend.

We walked around this living testament to soulmates in awe, necks aching from how much there was to see. And all the time Cael held my hand. The boy I loved held me close as we toured a building where every morsel of marble and stone was pulsing with love. A feeling of contentment settled over me.

After walking for hours, we then watched the day fade to night and the Taj Mahal absorb the blue-silver hue of the moon.

It wasn’t lost on me that it was the exact color of Cael’s eyes.

Back at the hotel, at dinner that night, Mia said, “We brought you here—a quick pitstop on our trip to our next destination—to talk about honoring those who have died.” She gave an encouraging smile. “A huge part of coping with loss is to try to find positives, though they feel few and far between. But placing your energy into remembering the person or people we lost fondly is healthy—it’s progress. Lots of religions and cultures have ceremonies and festivals where they do this. But it’s important to honor your loved ones personally too. In your own way.”

“Does anyone want to touch on how they’ve honored, or maybe plan to honor, their loved ones?” Leo asked.

We were dining on local curry dishes and naan and rice, made with spices I’d never tasted before. This wasn’t like our typical sessions. This was relaxed and comforting, a group of friends sharing a meal and feelings.

“We sit shiva,” Lili said. She placed down her food. “It’s a Jewish tradition where immediate family of the deceased sit for seven days after the person or people they lost have been buried. It is a time to try to face the initial loss, then remember them fondly, and accept the death.” Lili smiled. “It did help me. I sat with my grandparents and aunts and uncles. They held me up when I was falling.”

“That’s beautiful,” Mia said.

“We haveel Día de los Muertos,or the Day of the Dead in English,” Jade said. “I’m Mexican, and this is one of our main traditions. It’s a joyful celebration of those we have lost. We remember them fondly and celebrate the life they lived. It’s meant to be uplifting. And it is. It helps take the ache of grief and turn it into a celebration of the lives of the people we loved most. It’s one of my favorite holidays.”

“I’d love to see that one day,” Lili said and embraced Jade in a hug. They were fast becoming best friends, and I hoped they held on to one another even after this trip was done. I was quickly realizing that having people to talk to, people who had traveled the same rocky road of grief as me, was immeasurable. They just understood. You didn’t need to explain that a part of your soul was missing, because theirs was too.

“I headed up a fundraiser to place a memorial plaque in our town,” Travis said. “A place where my friends and classmates will always be remembered. A place where we, who have lost them, can go and just feel them around us again.”

“That was beautiful,” Leo said.

I felt my heart beat faster. I was still not great with sharing, but I said, “I’m going to Harvard. Pre-med.” Cael looked over at me and I could see the interest in his face. “My sister, Poppy. She died of Hodgkin lymphoma. She was seventeen. My dream is to become a pediatric oncologist.” I met Cael’s eyes when I said, “I want to help children just like her. I want to honorher memory by helping beat or treat this disease in whatever way I can.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Or even just help those who can’t be saved pass pain-free and in the most dignified way possible.”

“Baby,” Cael said and kissed my lips. Since the night Cael had told me about his brother, we had become even more inseparable, like that night had fused us together permanently, two halves of soulmates made whole. We carried each other through our pain. We talked about whatever was on our minds. Sometimes that was our siblings, but other times it was any number of things. He’d even spoken more about his love of hockey, which I knew was a huge step for him. It hadn’t occurred to me to share what I wanted to do at college.

“That’s such a noble way to honor Poppy, Savannah,” Mia said and I felt my cheeks blaze at her compliment.

“Cael?” Leo said. Cael’s hand went rigid in mine. He never participated in these sessions. He was doing better, spoke to Leo more in one-on-one sessions, but there was still a dark cloud that hovered over his head. I worried about him a lot. All our grief journeys were roller-coaster rides. But I felt his was more tumultuous than most.

Cael was silent as always. Leo went to move on to Dylan, when Cael said in a rasped voice, “I wanted to keep playing hockey. Like we had intended to do together. In his honor, but …” He trailed off and shook his head, a clear sign that he was done.

But he hadspoken. He had contributed to the group and spoken of his brother to the others.

I was so proud of him I could burst.

“One day at a time, son,” Leo said, and I caught the emotion lacing his voice too.

I leaned in close to Cael and said, “I’m so proud of you. I love you.” Cael wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I felt him trembling slightly, but I wouldn’t mention it. That admission had cost him dearly. But he haddoneit.

“Dylan?” Mia said, and there was silence from beside me. Dylan shook his head. I frowned at my friend. He was normally forthcoming about losing Jose. Though I thought back to what Cael had said about his brother.Hiding his pain with loud laughs and wide smiles. I wondered if Dylan was the same.

A flare of panic sparked in my chest for my friend. Not long afterward, the table split to head to bed. Cael was walking me to my room when I caught sight of Dylan in the courtyard of our hotel, looking at a conceptual marble statue in the center of a huge water feature. He was alone. He was curled inward. And he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

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