“…I set myself to learn by your going, knowing across death’s wide ocean, the ultimate parallel to friendship.” – David Whyte, The Wave from The Pilgrim

The day came when I woke up ready to walk again, knowing it was my last. A rush of relief and sadness washed over me. Throughout the camino, I had been waiting to see a place – or more accurately, to feel a place – to lay more of Dad to rest. More of my grief to rest.

In the moment the monument appeared, I was alone, having walked on ahead of the group some miles back. It was stone with the word “Santiago” carved at the top, reminding me I was near the end. It called out to me with its ancient wisdom, the many memories laid at its feet in the form of rocks and photos, letters and momentos.

This was another place I would scatter my Dad’s ashes, another piece of my life he didn’t see but is experiencing with me in a different way. I felt it was going to be all right, because I felt lighter, though the ashes weighed almost nothing.

Another ounce of grief was released into the woods on the dirt path. “Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust…” – I finally understood the meaning.

[Photo: I scattered some of my Dad’s ashes to the side of this monument; coincidentally, my friends stopped at the same monument some 30 minute later and saw the exact spot I had done so, marked by the freshness of the white dust.]