“I can, ever so hesitantly, every once in a while, sit across from a friend and let them in on a sliver of my life. But I can't turn my head on the pillow at night and talk to the person who knows me as much as I have ever let anyone know me.”
“WIDOW. WINDOW. I am not trying to be clever. I'm saying that widowhood is a window. Looking through it, you can view, assess, learn from, cry over, laugh about, regret, celebrate - everything - a marriage that was, the relationship that helped define you for decades. Falling in love is easy. A long marriage is hard.”
Referring to her husband and their children: “I have a past that does not include him. They do not.”
“…so much a part of who I am, and who I will ever be. I am walking through the world with them and without them. There is no denouement. The story continues.”
Kessler intersperses flashbacks about her family and feelings with the story of her walk along the Camino Francés, an ancient 500-mile pilgrimage route between Spain and France. At times a physically challenging route, this endeavor (requiring about a month to complete) allowed her to spend time alone, to observe nature, visit picturesque villages, and meet new people – essentially an opportunity to reflect on her life before and in the future. Kessler writes about “a lesson of the Camino that translates directly to life: that occasionally and gloriously, there are true aha moments, but mostly there is the long slog toward making sense of who you are.” Along the way, she quotes Mary Oliver (“When Death Comes…”) and comedian George Carlin (“I want to live my life backwards…”).
I would also highly recommend The Salt Path by Raynor Winn and Memorial Days by Geraldine Brooks; these, too, deal with time spent in nature and self-reflection while facing the loss of a spouse.
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