The true impact of grief cannot be understood without being felt first hand. It's an entirely different ordeal experiencing grief yourself than it is watching someone else grieve. I've seen friends lose parents and thought how tragic that must be, but ultimately, and as awful as it sounds, I was still able to continue with my life as normal, albeit tinged with a deep sympathy. It's not until you face loss yourself that the true pain of it really hits you. Your entire world stops, and it's completely unfathomable and both mentally and physically incapacitating to watch the world tick on whilst your life has come to a standstill.
At the start of the lockdown, I lost my dad very suddenly and unexpectedly, and it absolutely knocked me clean off my feet. I was 25, had my own successful business, was getting ready to settle down and start a family, and suddenly I felt like a little kid again, reliant on my mum and dad to get me through life. I couldn't possibly have that taken away from me. I couldn't possibly have my dad taken away from me.
He was a very fit and healthy man, and had even been on a bike ride that very afternoon. But it took less than 2 seconds for him to be taken by a sudden, merciless cardiac arrest, and there was nothing that could be done. To say that I struggled would be an understatement. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and I hit every hurdle of grief for months after, from complete exhaustion that left me ill, to irrational behaviour that drove my loved ones away, to ongoing nightmares that still wake me up in fits of tears in the middle of the night now. But, the biggest thing that just kept replaying over and over in my head, and still does to this day, is the immense fear of my dad dying without having achieved what he wanted to. And I couldn't bear the thought of the same fear being applied to my life too.
I'm lucky enough to have been raised by people who have always valued important life experiences above anything materialistic. Every year, I make a conscious effort to learn something new and to visit somewhere in the world that I've never been to before, either with my family, or going it solo. So far, I've ticked off the Amazon rainforest, the Arctic Circle, and most of Europe. One of the next big things on my bucket list was Africa, to experience the desert and the bush. Me, mum and dad were due to fly there in March, but the newly-announced lockdown drew a big red cross through those plans. We lost dad less than a month later.
I'd always wanted to visit Africa after being so inspired by my late auntie Deina who spent a lot of her life working over there as a nurse/midwife for tribes who were too remote to have access to a hospital. She'd cycle for hours a day to treat those in need, often living without electricity, heating, or communication with the outside world. I lived with her after she retired and every night she'd tell me the most amazing stories of her adventures. After she passed, a book was published about her life in Africa, using excerpts of the diaries she kept, the letters she sent home, and the conversations she'd had with friends.
She was, and still is, the wisest woman I've ever met; she knew how to diffuse any argument with just one simple sentence, she always had a remedy for any illness or discomfort, she accomplished truly incredible things but remained humble and never once boasted or bragged, and quite simply, she just had the answer to any question. She's my greatest role model, and I've always vowed that I will try my best to live my life like she lived hers; always on an adventure, always helping people, and always demonstrating patience, perseverance and positivity. She unfortunately passed away in 2016, whilst I was away doing volunteer work in South America, a country in which she, too, had spent years of her life working to help people.
About a month or two after dad's passing, a family friend shared a post with me advertising an opportunity for three young women to head to Africa to participate in an all-female trek up Mount Kilimanjaro in aid of charity. In the midst of everything that I was dealing with (or failing to deal with), I was in desperate need of something to look forward to, something to give me purpose again and give my mind something else to focus on for a change. So, on a whim, I applied... And I was successful!
I've been more grateful than ever for finally having a reason not to sit at home moping and dwelling on everything that's terrible, and I've become tremendously determined to feel a sense of achievement in making my dad, my auntie, and myself very proud. However, despite being an adventurous soul, I can't say I've been very much of an active one. I love exploring, but at a leisurely pace. So, when we were given an intense fitness plan and immediately taken on our first training hike, the reality of the situation hit me. I'd gone from sitting on my backside for the past six months, to climbing a mountain twice a week and doing weight-training every other day, and it felt impossible.
I remember getting home from my first training walk and sitting in the bath crying my eyes out, telling myself I just couldn't do it. The other girls were sports players who practically ran up the mountain, and I'd never felt like more of a misfit or an outcast, scraping my feet miles behind them, puffing on my inhalers just to get up the next 10 meters. I'm not a quitter and never have been, but as I continued to struggle both mentally and physically for the first few weeks, I really did begin convincing myself that I just couldn't do it.
But then one day, it was like everything changed. We made it to the top of Snowdon in the middle of an amber weather warning, freezing cold and drenched to the bone, despite layers and layers of thick waterproofs. We sat at the top to recuperate, and as the wind and rain smashing against our skin, it reminded me of how I'd sat with dad at the top of a mountain in the Arctic Circle hoping to catch the Northern Lights, but instead we'd just caught ourselves in the middle of an Arctic blizzard and were both too stubborn to leave, adamant that we'd wait out the storm and eventually catch what we'd came for (unfortunately, my angry and freezing cold mother was far more sensible and ordered that we came down immediately!)
It was such an intense memory and it absolutely bowled me over with uncontrollable emotion. I completely burst out crying, probably much to the surprise of the other girls who were all feeling pretty chuffed with themselves for reaching the summit. I think it was a combination of a million overwhelming thoughts all happening at once; the memory of how funny me and dad had found it that we were suffering for our own stubbornness but were too busy laughing about it to even notice, coupled with the realisation that I wasn't laughing about anything this time around and was instead so overly-focused on the struggle rather than the journey and the incredible experience; the fact that that was also the last time that I saw my dad alive, and the sudden realisation that I'm now starting to do things in my life that he isn't around for, or won't ever get to see me accomplish; and also the overwhelming feeling of having reached the summit and finally achieving something that I'd found so hard and convinced myself that I couldn't do. But, I did it! And I'd done it without dad. Somehow.
Since then, I've tried my very best to reflect on my progress rather than focusing on my struggle, and I've had some of dad's ashes put into a ring that I wear every day, allowing dad to "come with me" on all of my hikes now, and share my accomplishments with me. And magically, I feel like I've got my determination back. I haven't shrugged off or doubted my capabilities, and I've learned to embrace the challenge. I'm now the fittest that I've ever been, and I've found a real connection with the girls that I was initially intimidated by, and together, we've completed Snowdon, Scafell Pike, Glyder Fawr, Garnedd Ugain, Glyder Fach, Blencathra, Great Gable, and many more in preparation for our Kilimanjaro adventure. Can you believe it?! I was a shell of a person only a few months ago, and now I'm conquering some of the highest peaks in the country and feeling more fulfilled than ever. Bring on Kili!
Our ascent up Kilimanjaro will take us six days, but rather surprisingly, only two days to come down. This is because on our way up, it is crucial that we acclimatise to the altitude. As we ascend, the air pressure will drop lower and lower and so will our oxygen levels, therefore, our pace will need to be much slower and it is important that we spend one full day remaining at the same altitude, fully acclimatising, if we want to make sure we are well enough to reach the summit. Any sign of sickness, and you're sent right back down again with one of the porters, with no hope of summitting. We will be doing all of the fitness training we can in approach to the climb, but unfortunately nothing will prepare us for the altitude, so it's just a case of keeping our fingers crossed and our morale high.
Our trek is in aid of a local youth club, and we are each doing all that we can to achieve sponsorships and donations to help support this amazing organisation. As someone who attended and was supported by a local youth group on a weekly basis as a teenager, I can truly appreciate first-hand the value and encouragement that a centre like this brings to young people's lives. It was my local youth group that gave me my first gigs as an aspiring musician, my first interviews, my first chance of organising my own events. Our charity, Warrington Youth Club, support young people’s development through an array of incredible opportunities and a wide range of programmes, enabling them to develop new skills, knowledge, and confidence, and giving young people aged 7 to 19 (up to aged 25 with additional needs) somewhere to go, something to do, and crucially, someone to talk to. The club operates seven days a week, 365 days a year, providing a safe, structured, and positive space for over 7,000 young people, and they also offer a range of targeted services for vulnerable and disadvantaged young people. The support and opportunities youth societies provide for thousands of young people is so important to their personal development, and even their career development, laying down the foundations for their future career goals and teaching them the skills they need in order to succeed at it.
