Cruz de Ferro

Today is the day. The day I’ve thought about more than Santiago. The day I talked about to others when I talked about the Camino. The day I lay my burden down before the cross.

Today, July 10, is the day my father died, and today I give my burden to the Father who died for me. There is probably significance in that. But frankly, if I think about it too much I’ll cry, and I don’t want to cry.

I have my rock in my pocket. So many times I’ve checked on that rock. Do I have it? Has it fallen out? I’m sending my pack on today, and I’ve worried time and again I’d forget to take out the rock first. Yep, that almost happened. But it didn’t. It is with me, a solid weight against my right thigh.

At first I put the rock in my day pack, but I moved it to my pocket. I want it with me today. I’ve got at least 10 miles before I reach the cross, and about 7 more after. I don’t know what they’ll be like, but I need to get started.

I’m going to separate what happened today other than the Cruz de Ferro into its own entry.

As I walked this am, I thought about my dad. I thought about the man he was before he became a sad, sick, self-absorbed shell of a man. And I found myself saying, “You let me down, Dad. You were supposed to love me, and you let me down. You weren’t who I needed you to be. Maybe you couldn’t be other than you were, but it didn’t feel like you tried. And I’m mad about that.

I’ve lived with the name of a man I don’t love for ten years because I didn’t want yours and I didn’t have another. I didn’t want you honored. I didn’t want you REMEMBERED. How could I honor what you became?”

The tears flowed down my cheeks as I walked, and I was so glad I was alone. Some Italian cyclists probably thought I was crazy but who cares. And I realized that the man my father became was not the only man he was.

He was intelligent and capable, becoming a supervisor at the post office. He won B.B. gun championships for 10 years. He was a beta-tester for Daisy BB gun and he trained as a judge for the Olympics, making it through several elimination rounds. THAT was also who he was, as real as the other who slowly rotted before my eyes.

And I decided THAT man I could remember. THAT man I could honor by retaking his name. And so I have decided that, after 10 years of kind of …erasing my father altogether, I have let in a man who existed until 1982. The other I have discarded. Maybe, after another Camino, I can integrate the two. Or maybe not. But this is good for now.

Around 10 I met Judy, and we stayed together most of the day. She took my picture at the Cruz de Ferro. Maybe when it’s not so late and I’m not so tired tomorrow I can put in some of what i wrote Webb Elementary. But now I’m falling asleep as I type. Goodnight.

Here is what I wrote to Webb.

Dear Webb Family, 

Today I placed our rock at the Cruz de Ferro. I cried as I saw the cross in the distance, raised on a hill as Calvary must have been raised. The mound of stones is huge, 50 ft high at least. It was sobering and yet heartwarming to think of the centuries of pilgrims (at least nine, it was placed here in the 11th century) who said, “Here, God, Here is my burden.” Literally millions of people over 1,000 years, all turning to the One who can carry them.

And I was part of them.

But carrying the rock meant so much more, was so much more.

That rock kept me going the first day. Walking 16 miles up and over a 4,200 ft mountain was hard. Very, very hard, especially for a 53 year old with bad knees who lives 400 ft above sea level. 

As I scrambled over rocks and slogged through mud, I wanted to give up. Just say, “I can’t do this,” take my money and bum around Italy for a month. But I couldn’t. 

You had trusted me. Given me the symbol of your burdens and I had promised to carry them for you. How could I go back and say, “Your burden was too heavy.” “I wasn’t equal to the task.” “I gave up the first day.”

So I kept on that day, 10 hours of walking up and over the mountain. And on a few other occasions, when the sun was hot, when my feet and knees ached, when I was tired and hungry and thirsty, I thought of this day, and I went on. 

I am telling you this not so you will honor me, but so you will better understand and honor the One who did the same for us and so much more. 

After I laid the rock down I kept my hand on it and prayed that each of you might be relieved of the burdens for which this rock was a symbol.

 But while that rock may have been a weight in my backpack, to carry it was not a burden but a blessing. Thank you. 

Now on to Santiago!

Since I’m not limited on pictures here, I’ll post the rest.