As my Mom lay in the hospital bed, I wondered, once again, how much time she had left. All I could think of was how unfair it was. She had many health issues, including the fact that she was on dialysis. It was just temporary and would only give her a little more time. Time was running out.
Over the last several months, over my weekly visits, we talked about many things. She was only in her late fifties.
I asked her if she had any regrets. I wanted to know so maybe I could learn from them.
She didn’t hesitate when she answered.
“Yes, live life with no regrets. As long as your kids are taken care of, it doesn’t matter what others think. Do what you want with your life because you never know how much time you have left. You always think you have more time, but you don’t. Trust me, you don’t.” With that said, she gently grabbed my right hand. I sat on the edge of her hospital bed until she fell asleep.
That night as I lay in bed at home, I thought about what my Mom had said. The truth was, we hadn’t always had the greatest relationship, but once she got sick, we started spending more time together.
Solo trip?
Over the last year, I’d thought about taking a solo trip on my own. It was something I felt I needed to do in order to challenge myself and get out of the rut I’d been in for too many years.
I was a single Mom of four kids. I always felt as though I was running on empty. Lately, I noticed I was starting to become bitter at the rest of the world. I thought it wasn’t fair that other people had things that I wanted and craved. I was tired of struggling. I was tired of running through every day on automatic pilot. I was done. I’d been at the same job for too many years, but seemed stuck.
My kids were getting older. I knew I’d have to make some changes. The good news was, they didn’t need me nearly as much. On the flip side, I now felt more lost than ever. My youngest was now 16 and my oldest, 21.
I’d done some research on a trip I wanted to take. I’d only been on a plane once before, many years ago. In my mind, I wanted to take this solo trip and hike in Spain, a section of the trail to Santiago called the El Camino. I found the whole concept mesmerizing.
I talked to a few people about the trip, but they didn’t seem to think it was a good idea, because I had trouble just going to the grocery store alone sometimes. I’d get frustrated if they didn’t have what I needed, go home and order in. Maybe now wasn’t the right time for me to travel to another country, alone, where I didn’t speak the language and hike. In fact, I didn’t even have very much hiking experience, and to top it all off, I didn’t have a cent in my savings account.
Unsettling medical news
I mentioned my dream to my Mom, about travelling the El Camino solo. She laughed and reminded me of what she’d said. At first, my plan was to take the trip in two to three years. It would be good timing. The kids would be older, and it would give me time to plan and wrap my head around the entire challenge.
Shortly after the conversation with my Mom, I received some unsettling medical news regarding my own health. I was now on daily medication that I’d need for the rest of my life. I was having trouble accepting the news. My mom had been right. You always thought you had more time than you had. Things had to change, and I couldn’t wait. I was tired of watching life pass me by. I was tired of being scared. I was in charge of my life. It was up to me.
By the following week, I decided I was going to Spain to hike the El Camino trail. I’d leave in six months, at the end of September. I told my Mom I’d give myself three weeks. I’d travel from Leon to Santiago, just over 300 kilometres. I was aiming to arrive in Santiago on my Mom’s birthday, October 13.
Before I left, my mom and I had several good conversations about my trip. She couldn’t believe I was actually going. Neither could I. If I did this, it would be the biggest thing I ever attempted. It was completely out of my comfort zone.
Setting the plan into motion
Over the next several months, I kept reading more about the trail and started buying the supplies I’d need. I started saving money and I sold stuff I was no longer using. It was all coming together. Two weeks before I was scheduled to leave, my partner bought my plane ticket. My kids couldn’t believe I was actually going. The reality was starting to set in.
I left for the trip. I checked in with my Mom every couple of days to see how she was doing, and it made her feel better just hearing my voice. Once a week, I’d talk to each of my kids on the phone. I could’ve talked to them more, but it was taking all my physical and emotional strength to get through each day. My shortest day was nine kilometres, and my longest day was 25 kilometres.
Making it through self-doubt
To be honest, three or four days into the trip, I started doubting myself. I was wondering what had brought me to this point. I wanted to keep going, but I didn’t think I was strong enough, physically and mentally. I remember writing in my journal that it was hard, and I didn’t think I could do it.
I was thinking of just grabbing a hotel and exploring the city for the rest of the time I was scheduled to be in Spain. No one would know. Except for me. I knew that if I didn’t try to keep going, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
For me, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It had literally taken everything I had, in many different aspects, to bring me here. I had one shot, and I had to make it count.
And I did. So many times, I wanted to quit, but it was like I knew I had to go on. In order to move on with my life, I had to complete this journey. I had to make it by foot to Santiago.
My journey was officially complete. My name was written down on the special certificate and handed over to me. I’d done it!
I didn’t make it to Santiago on October 13 like I wanted to. I arrived on October 14, which was the anniversary of my Mom’s kidney transplant. In order to receive the certificate from the church for completing my journey, I had to stand in line for more than two hours and show my pilgrim’s passport. The passport contained stamps from all the hostels I’d stayed in as proof that I’d made the journey.
I ran into people who had seen me in the early days, and they were pleasantly surprised to see me. It was a good feeling.
My passport was looked over thoroughly before it was given the final stamp of approval from the church. My journey was officially complete. My name was written down on the special certificate and handed over to me. I’d done it!
I felt like a different person. I felt whole, alive and like a true person. This was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.
I’d bought a return plane ticket. My plane wasn’t scheduled to leave for a couple more days. I decided to hop on a bus and go to Braga, in Portugal. During my time there, I visited coffee shops and wrote in my journal. I reflected on my time on the trail.
Gratitude, wholeness and change
The last night before leaving, everything hit me at once while I was in the shower. I started crying uncontrollably. I felt overwhelmed by everything I’d experienced. I felt nothing but gratitude, whole, blessed and alive. I no longer felt broken.
That was nearly five years ago. Since then, I’ve changed jobs, am currently enrolled in college and have even hiked on Mount Everest!
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image 1: Wikimedia Commons; image 2: Wikimedia Commons
