For forty-two days, life was reduced to essentials. Get up. Walk. Eat. Wash the clothes. Sleep. No grand plan for how it would end. I never worked out what the end would look like, and this morning I still couldn't picture it.
We woke with excitement and anticipation. As we walked the final trail, the markers counted down, and with every one of them we got a little louder and a little faster.
I had always assumed we would see the cathedral from a long way off, just like most every other city and destination on The Camino. That isn't how it went. The city keeps the cathedral hidden.
Then we turned a corner, and it was in front of us. All of it, all at once.
Forty-two days. 755 kilometers.
I have to admit; it multiplied the experience. I felt accomplishment and triumph.
Then my thoughts turned to the people I had lost along the way.
Life at home did not stop while I walked.
To Leonardo - my travel companion and a lover of good wine and good food. You gave me and my family amazing memories in South Africa and Italy. The next time I'm in Italy, I will raise a limoncello to you.
To Meg - who was small and a force to be reckoned with. You were selfless, and you spent your life giving to other people.
Finally, to Nicolas - the son of my friend and colleague Gus. I never met you, but I am so sorry we lost you so soon.
Prayer was easy at first. I prayed for health, for success, and for intentions.
But it became so very hard at the end. At the end I prayed for those who we've lost. For addictions, for sickness, for things I can't understand.
Dear Lord. Help me understand.
I carried Leonardo, Meg, and Nicolas to Santiago. May the Lord bless their souls.
I thought this pilgrimage was about me. But it turns out it was about everything except me.
