As the sun set over the Pyrenees mountains on my first day walking the Camino de Santiago, we gazed into deeply carved shadows and serene pastoral settings. Apropos of nothing, a fellow pilgrim reminded me, “They say the Camino doesn’t always give you what you want, but it will always give you what God knows you need.” That turned out to be a prescient remark–one that I found to be true, both to my joy and to my disappointment.

I am back home significantly earlier than I expected. I will not be celebrating my 70th birthday this weekend in Spain as expected. I will not mark the one-year anniversary of Janet’s passing at the Spanish coast, releasing her ashes into the Atlantic Ocean.

Yet I had already discovered a better place to release her ashes, much earlier in my journey. I likewise found a better location than I’d planned to place her memory stone. These were deeply moving moments of release that I’ll write more about in future reflections, along with other key experiences from my pilgrimage. These moments made me realize I’d already accomplished most of my goals quite early in my journey. At the same time, I was hounded daily by heat exhaustion and myriad health issues, including my heart and a final ignominious discovery of Covid after I’d begun my journey home.

So now, I will instead be celebrating my birthday weekend here with my beloved family, and I will be marking the anniversary of Janet’s death on September 5th with more beloved family. That’s a sweet and holy trade-off, and probably what Janet would have preferred for me anyway.

I certainly got what I needed – – and more – – from my Camino. And I’ve left the remainder of it (600km more) to perhaps discover in future years.

I got what I needed, but I didn’t get what I thought I wanted: a journey of near-epic proportion traversing most of the length of Spain, though my 200 kilometers (120 miles) was still a significant trek. I did not intend for this to be a journey of lugging a heavy burden, but it did feel that way. Focusing on the 47 days of Janet’s illness and death was not easy, and a fellow widower I met along the journey was emphatic from his own experience that some of my health issues must surely be from bearing a cross of grief.  Like the ‘hero’ in Pilgrim’s Progress, I felt a heavier burden on me than simply my backpack, which seemed heavier by the day.

Remembering Janet and our wonderful life together was no burden at all; re-reading our journals from Janet’s 47-day journey to eternity last year definitely was a burden. I realize now that there was a choice that could be made – – to focus on her death, or to focus on her life. I didn’t need to wallow in each day’s challenges of last year, day-by-day, all over again. That doesn’t honor the bright light that Janet was for so long to so many.

I’ve been reminded of that this week: Now that I am back, I discovered the energy to finally read through again the many condolence cards and notes that I received, and the notes of encouragement sent to Janet over those intervening weeks.  In those notes, except for mentioning the incredible peace and grace that Janet exuded during her final ordeal, no one focused on her illness. Instead, they were pouring out their hearts with gratitude for who she was to them and how she ministered to so many over the full 68 years of her life!  I should have listened to St. Paul, who exhorts us: “Whatever is true, whatever is lovely, whatever is pure… think on these things.” Lesson learned.

I have a great deal more to reflect on from my pilgrimage, truncated as it was. 

So, like that famous Spaniard Don Quixote, was I simply chasing windmills and pipe dreams of unrealized glory? No way. Thanks be to God, the Camino gave me exactly what I needed: the chance to honor Janet and celebrate our wonderful marriage, and it gave me the freedom to set my face toward the future, just as Janet would expect me to do. I’m ready.

I can’t wait to tell you more as I continue to process and review my notes.

Cory

August 2024