When I lost my brother, I got a lot of piercings. When I lost my other brother, I got a tattoo and more piercings. But when I lost my dad, I got lost. 💔 A piece of me died the day he did.
I tried to find my solace in alcohol, sleeping pills, anxiety pills, and depression pills. I tried grief counseling, but I was even more lost.
Six months down the line, I figured I needed to honor him better. I needed to do something that he would be proud of. I needed to do something I would not have dared to do when he was alive. That’s when I started my hiking journey; my goal was to summit Mt. Kenya as an honor to my dad.
I set to the summit on August 14. The 4km walk from 0230hrs was one of the most peaceful moments since I lost him. He became part of that journey, and we had some interesting conversations along the way, made a few jokes—I even found myself smiling in between catching my breath and using my hands to walk.
At that moment, I realized he will always be with me and always be in my life. ❤
I will always have my journey up Mt. Kenya to remember him by.