In this movie, a young man dies while backpacking the “Camino de Santiago.” His dad decides to finish the pilgrimage for him. All along “the way” the influence of his son is felt when the dad sporadically sees him. He looks back each time and the son is gone.
In a similar manner I see the face of my dad and hundreds of caregivers all along “the way.” I look back and they are always gone.
When I drove to the place “Joseph Bell” died, I saw Joe and his cart, and it was intact. He was standing off the road and he gave me a thumbs up, and thanked me for coming to say goodbye and pay my respects. When I glanced back, he was gone.
When I walked through Chickamauga Battlefield in North Georgia I saw confederate troops standing beside trees. They looked with curiosity. They looked tired and worn. When I glanced back, they were gone.
The thoughts of all of these folks has been a driving force for me and kept me going.
I am supposed to be doing this. Alzheimer’s disease is mean and ruthless and is doing great harm to us.
Struggles. Some of us die in them and are not allowed to finish. We know that may be the case from the start, but we begin anyway. Even in starting something, their is a certain amount of satisfaction. Maybe we hope someone will finish for us, or at least acknowledge we were there.