Goodbye to the Sea

Yesterday I sat on one of the last shorelines I’ll touch on the Camino Norte. I watched in the distance as a pilgrim sat on the sand, looking towards the sea. He stood up, walked towards the water and carefully folded each item of clothing as he stood near the water. Naked, he walked into the surf with arms raised, then suddenly plunged into the foam, swimming and splashing in the waves. I thought of Javi Yela’s passing, and the evening I spent at Samblismo, with the Italians and Manon. I thought about Tom’s father, who passed away recently. I thought about my own mother, who passed away so, so many years ago. All the colors of the water mixed with the tears. This is what I think dying must be - or maybe what I hope it will be - to neatly fold your clothes, enter a blue sea and swim away.

How do I bottle up this feeling and carry it home? Can I put it in a jar like so many grains of sand and swallow it once a day to keep it part of me? Perhaps it is as simple as caring for those around us, kindness, compassion, empathy. Perhaps it is as simple as preparing a meal for others, giving advice on a safe path, providing a place to sit and rest. Perhaps it is as simple as serving.