25 Warm Winds and Heartfelt Words

Warm Winds and Heartfelt Words

Savannah

ōtsuchi, Japan

The next day

I STARED AT THE GARDEN WE'D BEEN brOUGHT TO AND THE PHONE BOOTH that sat within it. The sea lay over a busy road, but here we stood, in among a patch of wild greenery, looking at a simple white phone booth. It was old-fashioned English in style. There were benches scattered around, but this phone booth just stood here, rather alone and out of place.

"Years back, this town, Japan, endured a tsunami," Leo said, and my heart skipped a beat. I cast my eyes around the small town. It must have been devastated. "This coastal town, in particular, was severely impacted. Many people died. The townspeople lost many members of their families in that single disaster." Cael's hand clutched me tighter.

"This phone booth was constructed a year before." Leo walked up to it. "It is known as the Wind Phone. Inside of it is a disconnected wired phone." I saw the black phone inside. Like something you saw in an older movie, before cell phones existed.

"The man who created it lost a cousin to cancer. And he missed him. He missed him so much that he didn't know how to process it." Those words were a stab in the chest. I knew what that felt like. "He felt that he needed a place to put his feelings into words. And needed a place to express them. So the gentleman built this phone booth in his garden as a way to speak to him." I frowned in confusion. "This phone was designed to help with grief. It is a direct line to the afterworld and those who have passed over."

"To understand why this phone booth is significant, it is important to note a few things here about Japan and the beliefs that many people here carry," Mia said gently. "Japan is mostly Buddhist. And within Buddhism, people believe that the line between this life and the next is thin. They believe that everything in the world, in life , is connected, and that includes those who have passed away."

I liked that notion. It reminded me of what I believed about the universe and stardust and the idea that we would eventually take our place back among the stars where we all originated. About our energies surviving beyond the grave, remaining in this life just in a new form. Never leaving.

"In households across Japan, many people will have altars in their living rooms dedicated to their deceased loved ones," Mia continued. I couldn't take my eyes off her, hanging on her every word. "They are filled with photographs and mementos of those passed, and fruit and rice and other such offerings are placed before them. People believe that although dead, the loved ones are still tied to their families and must be honored."

Like the journal Leo and Mia gave us , I thought. It had kept me connected to Poppy. And I knew that even after this trip ended, I would continue to talk to her through the pages. I couldn't see myself ever stopping. I didn't know if that was healthy, but being here, hearing this about Buddhism and the Japanese culture, told me that it was okay. It was okay to stay connected to the sister I had lost. Through the journal, I had found her voice again.

"This phone booth is an extension of the home altars. It bridges that thin line between life and death in a healthy and personal way," Leo said. He pointed at the simple white phone booth. "The phone inside is not connected to anything on this earth, but rather the afterworld. The man who built this, knew there was no direct line to his lost cousin, but liked to think that his words to him, rather than being carried down a connected line, were instead being carried on the wind. It is why it's called ‘The Wind Telephone.'"

My hands shook as I fixed my gaze upon that phone, and that phone booth. Shivers ran down my spine as a timely gust of wind blew around us. Cael squeezed my hand twice. I squeezed his hand twice in return—I felt him shaking too.

"Another part of the Buddhist belief system, one not too dissimilar to what we learned in Varanasi, is that because our loved ones are still connected to us, we also must let them go. Within Buddhist thought, if we cannot let go of our loved ones, cannot shed the pain of losing them, then they cannot be set free, and instead become suspended in a kind of no man's land in the afterworld," Leo said. "So one of the most common phrases used within this phone booth are, "Don't worry about us" and "I'm doing my very best". People believe that it helps reassure those we love that we are okay, even if we are not, and helps them pass onto the afterworld and the next part of their journey."

Cael was stiff as a board beside me. It was the hardest part of everything for him, letting his brother go. Letting go of the candle representing Cillian on the Ganges truly hurt him. This, I knew, would be no different. I leaned my head against his arm just trying to offer him some comfort.

"After the tsunami," Mia picked up where Leo had left off. "Many of the townspeople began randomly turning up at this garden, to the phone booth to say the goodbyes they were robbed of. Just like so many of us are. Fatal accidents, quick illnesses … suicides …" Mia said, kindly and carefully. "There are no goodbyes. No chance to say all that we wanted to say to our loved ones."

In that moment I felt lucky. Because I had held Poppy's hand and said my farewell. I had said all I needed to say to my sister. But Cael … many of my friends here, they didn't get that goodbye. Didn't get that closure.

"Not everyone will want to do this, and that is okay. But we have found, that especially for those who haven't had their goodbye, speaking into the phone is beneficial to their healing. It can really help you say what you need to say to your lost loved ones, alone, and in total privacy," Leo said. He smiled at us all. "We have brought you here today, on our very last exercise of our trip, so you can all say whatever you need to, to those you loved most." I heard the sound of sobbing, of sniffling and gut-wrenching cries from my friends. But my gaze was locked on the phone booth. My hand gripped onto Cael like a lifeline. When I dared to look up at his face, he was ashen. His silver-blue eyes were wide and afraid.

I laid my head back upon his arm. He was cold, and his body trembled. "We will give each of you time to enter the phone booth," Mia said. "Leo and I come here often with our groups. We have been fortunate enough to secure some private time away from the public for you to do this." Mia moved to the side. "So please, if you want to and feel ready, enter the phone booth."

Leo came over to Cael and said quietly enough for only us to hear, "You don't have to do this if you aren't there yet, son." Cael nodded numbly. I honestly didn't know what he would do.

A hand clutched onto my free hand. It was Dylan. When I looked down the line, I saw we were all connected. Lili, to Jade, to Travis, to Dylan, to me, to Cael. We had gotten here. Through tears and pain and agony and opening our shattered hearts to one another, we six had gotten here to this final exercise.

"We've gotten this far," Dylan said to us all. We had. Together we had held one another up. We had done this side by side, wiping away one another's tears and comforting each other when we broke. We had a bond forged in both grief and love. I knew I would be fused to these people forever.

Lili walked forward first, releasing her hand from Jade's. I watched her, breath held, as she climbed the steps to the phone booth and walked inside. I lowered my head when she picked up the phone, knowing my friends were giving her the same grace.

The wind blew around the trees. Birds sang up ahead; the sound of slow waves hitting the shore and cars whizzing by on the busy road behind us created the ambient soundtrack. More importantly, it gave the person on the phone total privacy.

One by one my friends made their calls. Each coming out sad and drenched in tears … but seeming different somehow. Cleansed, revived—a cocktail of emotions. We retook hands to give ever-flowing support. And when Dylan returned to the line, cheeks red and eyes wet, it was my turn.

I glanced up at Cael, who tore his eyes from the phone booth to meet mine. "You can do this, Peaches," he said, voice raw and hoarse.

I nodded, then released his hand. It was a metaphor, I thought. We could hold one another up, support and dry one another's tears, but when it came down to it, our journeys with grief were our own. We were on our own. And we had to heal alone too.

Each step to the phone booth was a marathon. The heaviness of the door felt like it weighed ten tons. But when I was inside, the black phone staring back at me, everything grew quiet, and a sense of peace enveloped me where I stood.

With a shaking hand, I lifted the phone and brought it to my ear. Only silence met me.

But I knew she was there, waiting in the wind.

"Poppy …" I said, my voice sounding so loud in the silent space. "I know you can hear me," I said. I squeezed my eyes shut. "I read your final notebook entry last night." I hitched a breath, and my eyes filled with tears. "It was so beautiful. You were so beautiful. I hope you know that." I smiled through my quiet cries. "You said goodbye to me last night, so it is only right that it is my turn to say goodbye to you today." I clutched the phone tighter. "Only I don't want to. Because, if this trip and your notebook have taught me anything, it's that I believe, with my entire heart and soul, is that you are with me." I sniffed and took a deep breath. My chest felt raw and sore.

"When you died, my entire world imploded. But now I feel you around me. I see you in the stars. I see you in my dreams. And now I'm talking to you on this phone."

I wiped my cheeks and stilled as a butterfly landed on a flower outside of the phone booth. It was once a caterpillar, transformed into a butterfly. That butterfly, as beautiful as it was, would only have a short life. But its beauty would remain in the memories of all who saw it.

"I love you more than all the stars in the sky, Poppy. I will never not grieve for all the time that you are missing for my life, yet I will cherish the blessings you gave to me while you were here." My cries ebbed and my breathing steadied. "Don't worry about us," I whispered, wanting her to be free. "Take care, my beloved sister. I adore you. I love you. And I will miss you every minute of every day," I said and then placed the phone back onto the holder.

The butterfly took flight, and I watched it soar on the breeze toward the sky until it had vanished out of sight. I closed my eyes and smiled, even more so when I smelled the sweet scent of vanilla taking up the space around me.

Then I opened the door to outside, seeing my friends, and the love of my life, all waiting, holding hands, proud expressions upon their faces. And I just knew, could feel it deep in my heart …

… I was going to be okay.