Journey 03 · Holbox, Mexico
A slower pace. A softer heart.
By the time we arrived on Holbox, we were exhausted. For years, our lives had revolved around hospitals, treatments, uncertainty and survival. After Eden passed away, the fight stopped but our bodies had not yet understood that.
Space to breathe
Holbox gave us stillness. We cycled slowly through sandy streets. We watched the Caribbean Sea change colour throughout the day. We stood in warm, shallow water and watched the horizon stretch endlessly in front of us. Life moved differently here. Slower. Softer. And somewhere inside that stillness, our bodies slowly started to understand that they no longer had to fight.
Remembering beauty
Grief has a way of taking over everything. For a long time, pain was so overwhelming that it was difficult to see anything beyond it. But Holbox reminded us of something we had almost forgotten: Life is not only about carrying what hurts. It is also about allowing yourself to see what remains beautiful. The calm sea. The warmth of the sun. Birds crossing the sky. Long sunsets. The sound of water moving gently onto the shore. Small things began reaching us again. Not because the sadness disappeared. It didn't. But beauty and grief started to exist next to each other. And that was new.
Just the three of us
One day, something happened that we will never forget. Three dolphins appeared in the water. Exactly three. They moved together across the horizon. For us, the number immediately meant something. Eden was three years old. And throughout our life together, we often spoke about ourselves in the simplest possible way: Just the three of us. Watching those three dolphins, it felt as if Eden was somehow travelling alongside us. We could not prove it. We did not need to. In that moment, it brought comfort. It allowed us to feel him close.
Three treasures for three years
A few days later, we went to the edge of the sea to perform a small ritual for Eden. We searched the beach for three natural treasures. One for every year of his life. We held them. We thought about him. And we cried. The emotions were heavy and almost impossible to contain. Then, one by one, we gave the three treasures back to the ocean. The waves carried them away. We were not letting Eden go. We never could. But perhaps we were beginning to release something else. A small part of the trauma. A small part of the fear. A small part of everything we had been holding inside our bodies for so long. Standing there beside the endless ocean, we felt the smallest amount of space open up inside the grief. Enough to breathe. We took one small anchor stone from the beach with us. A reminder that wherever we go, Eden travels with us.
The letter E
That evening, we returned to the beach for sunset. We sat quietly and watched the sky change. Then three clouds slowly shifted above the horizon. Together, they formed what looked unmistakably like the letter E. Again, there were three. And again, there was Eden. That morning we had cried from pain. That evening we cried differently. Tears of joy. Whether it was coincidence, nature or something beyond our understanding did not matter. We felt connected to our boy. We felt love. And for a few moments, love felt bigger than loss.
One million steps
It was also on Holbox, during those slow days of walking, cycling, thinking and talking, that another idea started to grow. What if we kept moving? What if walking could become more than something we were doing to survive our grief? What if every step could carry Eden's name forward? Slowly, the thought of one million steps with Eden began to take shape. A million steps to create awareness. A million steps to honour his life. A million steps to turn love, grief and movement into something that could reach beyond ourselves. We did not yet know exactly what it would become. But the seed had been planted. The pilgrimage that had started in the Făgăraș Mountains was beginning to find its direction.
The last sunset
On our final evening, Holbox gave us one last gift. The sun slowly dropped towards the horizon. The entire sky transformed into gold, orange, pink and purple. The sea became a mirror. Fishermen stood silently in the shallow water while rays of sunlight broke through the clouds. We stayed until the very end. Until the last light disappeared. There was something peaceful about watching it. A sunset is an ending. But endings can still contain beauty. Perhaps that was what Holbox had been trying to show us all along. We were learning that moving forward does not mean leaving Eden behind. It means carrying him differently. Holbox did not heal us. It gave us something more realistic. Room to breathe. Room to feel. Room to notice beauty again. And somewhere between the ocean, the dolphins, the sunsets and the endless sandy roads, the next part of our journey began. One million steps. With Eden. Always.
Holbox did not give us an answer. It gave us room.Back to all journeys →