The moment my partner died; I knew my life would radically be changed. Some of these changes I anticipated, others came as surprises. One of these unexpected moments came on a rooftop overlooking the Athabasca Icefield in Alberta, Canada.

I was co-leading a group trip to the area – a week of camping, hiking and exploring the Canadian Rockies. One afternoon, after a glacier trek, our group was having lunch atop the local museum. After the meal, most of the group dispersed to poke around the exhibits and peruse the gift shop. The women at my table, however, lingered. They had known Ian had passed away, and asked me about him. I opened up and offered more about his death and how I was processing it than I had to anyone else who wasn’t an immediate family member or close friend. It poured out, a waterfall of words. Gushing and flowing, cascading out of my mouth and flowing out of my eyes. And then I was quiet. They filled the silence with stories of their own. My vulnerability offered a crack in the doorway that they willingly & eagerly pushed through, offering pieces of their own grief journeys. Hours passed in minutes. We all left that table better for sharing our experiences. Our faces may have been tear stained, but we were lighter, closer and more present than before we sat down.  

It was a beautiful trip full of new, exciting adventures. But those hours on the rooftop were by far the most impactful and memorable. Those hours serve as the foundation for this retreat. I wanted to re-create that experience on a larger scale, and offer the space and time for the grieving to come together to share their stories, have meaningful conversations and move through grief in community.