THE DAY - September 26, 2015

The was the final day in what has been the journey of a lifetime for me. A journey which I shared with my old friend Nancy. It has been a privilege.

I am humbled and ever so grateful for your generous, kind, encouraging and all too laudatory comments, as I near the end of my pilgrimage.   Thank you, merci, gracias, obrigado, grazie, danke schön!

Nancy and I left at 8:15 -  our last of everything; putting on our boots and grabbing our walking sticks.  It was our last roadside stop for a second café before getting into Santiago. It was our last sunrise, our last sun saluation, our last hill to climb, our last times to say Buen Camino... I could go on and on.

We left with our new friend, 80 year old Barb, but we ate her dust. She was gone by midmorning.

We walked slowly, reminiscing and reliving our last 35 days.

The number of pilgrims increased as we approached Santiago, on a PERFECT day.  What transpired was magical, because we had no idea whether we would make it into Santiago in time for the high mass at noon.  We did! We walked, walked, walked, and walked right up the steps into the Cathedral at 11:55.

There were no seats, but I quickly found a spot in the centre where I could see the nun speaking to the congregation.  I had my stick in hand, my backpack on, and I was a true Peregrino, because I smelled!  (Walking 10 km on a humid morning will do it!)

It was standing room only.  The nun stopped speaking, doors opened to my left, and a procession of eight priests passed right in front of me. I could have touched their robes.  I turned, and for an hour stood there, listening to the mass said in Spanish, and responding when I could be fast enough to recognize where we were, in English or in French.  Sometimes I leaned my head and hands on my stick.  I listened and understood much of what the priest said, and the words of a young Syrian woman, who did what we call in French, a "témoinage". Elle venait de finir son Compostelle, comme nous.  Elle nous a demandé de prier et d'aider les Chrétiens dans le monde, qui sont victimes de torture, et sont tués, sont massacrés, comme le sont les Chrétiens dans son pays de Syrie.  Elle a parlé de sa famille, de son frère qu'elle n'a pas vu depuis six mois. Elle ne sait pas s'il est vivant.  Ses grandsparents sont morts dans cette guerre en Syrie. The priest's sermon was in response to her testimonial.

At the end of the mass, the priest blessed all the pilgrims.  He asked us to go in peace and practice peace. It was only when the procession passed in front of me again, that I felt the tears run down my cheeks. Don't ask me why. Je n'ai aucune idée.  Perhaps I had found comfort and solace, after this long journey, in the rituals and traditions of mass in the Catholic Church.  These traditions and rituals are universal. They transcend all boundaries of language and culture.

I felt a lightness as we descended the steps of this beautiful Cathedral.  We took a few pictures, stood in line for an hour and a half to get our "Credencial" validated. I paid 5 Euros, made a donation and received my two certificates, one attesting to my being a real Peregrina, and the other attesting to the distance I walked.

We had a very late lunch in the Plaza Quintana right outside the Cathedral, meeting up again with our German friend Barbel from Day 1. How apropos! We saw other Peregrinos we had met along the way. We stopped to hug, congratulate each other and just be genuinely happy and grateful for this journey, this "grand périple".

There is always, always so much more that I want to write. However, that is enough for today. In a day or two I will write a reflective piece.

I leave you with this quote, - a spiritual maxim.

"I am not a human being on a spiritual journey.
I am a spiritual being on a human journey.

This journey has ended for me today, but another has begun.

With love and infinite gratitude from Santiago de Compostella, Spain.

Marie Marjolaine Joanne Duguay