Kenneil Mitchell: Spirit of Sunset--In Remembrance of Grandpa

Death is the final sunset people see before they fade into the darkness. It’s a cold feeling to deal with for the living; a feeling as cold and harsh as the wind I was walking through during my night in Finisterre. I wasn’t walking alone on the empty streets of Finisterre as I was with my newfound group that I met earlier at the lighthouse. We arrived at a seafood restaurant near the harbor that made the wind colder. It was at this restaurant where I talked to Marian, a pilgrim from Ireland about encountering death on the Camino. She explained with a quivering voice and quiet tone about seeing a dead pilgrim, a victim of a hit and run.

She remembered the police spreading a sheet over the body as if the curtains of a one man show closed, with no chance for an encore. Death was a natural occurrence for Marian it seemed as she explained that she often thinks of her father, who died in 1979 when she was young. She looked at me with sincerity and sadness and said, “I cry a lot on the Camino.”

 I nodded at her to show that I understood why she would constantly cry, but inside, I started debating on why I went on the Camino. It came to me while eating with Marian that I thought about someone close to me that died while I was walking. On this day, I realized that I was thinking about my grandfather, who died before I embarked on the Camino and that I was walking for his memory.

It was hard to get him out of my mind while I was walking to Finisterre that day. I was coming up near the end of the Camino with my classmates. The Camino is a pilgrimage that people take for spiritual cleansing, a physical challenge, or in my case, a sense of understanding. I wanted to understand why my grandfather was taken from me from stroke complications at this stage of my life. During my walk in Finisterre, I thought about all of the farms I walked passed throughout the Camino. I remember the smells of the fields, cows, chickens, and hogs. It reminded me of going to my grandfather’s house at his farm. I felt his spirit through the course of my journey, a spirit that carried me all the way to Finisterre.

As I walked that day to Finisterre, I came across the crashing sounds of waves breaking on the rocks in the ocean. The sun was beaming down on me, cooking me to a crisp while the ocean provided me with a nice breeze. After what seemed like hours of walking in the sun, I finally arrived in Finisterre where I met up with my professor Dr. Mentley at the local hostel, Albergue Arasolis.

After talking to Dr. Mentley, he led me to the road that takes me to the lighthouse. Before leaving, I remembered the rock that I found on my journey on the Camino. Pilgrims usually obtain a rock before they go on the Camino and leave it anywhere on the Camino, whether they are on the stone markers or big crosses scattered throughout the Camino. The rock is a symbol for the burden that they have to carry with them from home throughout the Camino until they are ready to leave it behind. Some people go to Finisterre and throw it at the end of the world. That was what I was planning to do.

While walking up to the lighthouse, the wind was picking up really fast and it was getting cold. As I walked the long, curved road leading to the gigantic lighthouse, I noticed a stone on the left side of the lighthouse that read 0,00 km to signify that I made it to the end of the world. I met up with a couple of pilgrims I saw that day, including Marian. While conversing with my new found group for the day, I stood in awe at what I saw in front of me. The slowly setting sun radiated its warm orange glow on the bright blue ocean with a blue mist of clouds in the distance.

I couldn’t believe I was here, on the edge of the end of the world. I felt my pocket to see that I still had my rock, not knowing what burden it would stand for. After isolating myself from my group of friends to go to the right side of the mountain, overlooking the distant city of Finisterre light up like a Christmas tree, I decided that my rock/burden would be the burden of worthlessness.

Throughout my life, I have always been hard on myself, in school and in my personal life. I always wanted to achieve at the highest standards and not be left behind the others in school or in the job market. Whenever I didn’t meet those goals, I would call myself worthless and hang my head in shame for my mistakes. While standing near the edge of the mountain, I thought about what my grandpa always said to me when I was about to leave. He always looked me in the eyes and said, “Son, don’t let those kids at school ever pressure you to do things you ain’t supposed to be doing.” He would also say, “You make sure you take care of your mother now.” I would always nod my head, smile and kiss his stubbly cheek as I left his house.

With those impactful words, I vowed to never fit in the crowd or to be normal. I decided to stand out and be weird so I can unlock my full potential. There’s no joy in fitting into the crowd as you will become just like everybody else. I knew that by going on this Camino, I would discover more about myself than I would on other trips offered to me. Thinking about that while I was holding my rock, I looked into the distance and spoke from the heart to myself and my grandfather. I took a deep breath, released it with the wind and let my words out.

“I throw away this stone of worthlessness. I will no longer call myself worthless. I will try to become the best role model I can be for my family” I said while looking at the strong waves in the vast ocean. I looked up in the sky, nodded my head and spoke to my grandfather. “Hey grandpa, thank you. For everything. For making me into a better man” I said as the wind was picking up more and more. I gripped the rock in my right hand, cocked my arm back and threw it into the ocean. As I saw the rock shatter into pieces and falling into the depths of the ocean, I felt relieved that I let that burden go after 21 years of carrying it with me.

After Marian confessed to me at dinner that she cries a lot on the Camino while having dinner near the ice cold harbor, she gave me a warm smile. She followed up the warm smile by stating that she “Loves meeting new people from all over the world and loves the fact that they’re so nice.” I said that I agreed with her on that aspect of the Camino but I didn’t tell her that I understood why she cries on the Camino. It was the same reason why I walked in silence most of the time. I walked in memory of my grandfather and all of the lessons he taught me while I was graced with his presence. What I didn’t express through tears, I expressed through silence and confusion.

After dinner ended and the group parted ways, I walked back to the hostel on the dark cobblestone streets happy that I had that conversation with Marian. I learned that death can be a challenging obstacle to overcome, especially when you lose someone you love. I walked the streets with acceptance that my grandfather was resting peacefully and that he would always be there to guide me in life. Even though the sun set for my grandfather, I held the memories and love I had for him in my heart to make my days on the Camino so much brighter.

Finisterre sunset. Photo by Stephen Sanders.

Kenneil Mitchell was an Honors Mass Communications major from Lander University. He studied abroad on the Camino de Santiago (a medieval pilgrimage) in Spain and Portugal in summer 2015. He graduated in 2016 and plans to attend graduate school. He can be contacted at kenneil.mitchell93@gmail.com.