I want to share with you who the Angé was that I loved.
🗓️ 3 July 2025
Title: This Is Who Angé Was — And Why I Need to Honour Her
Subtitle: Before I walk, I want you to know who I’m walking for.
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Three days from now, I’ll lace up my shoes, sling a backpack over my shoulder, and take the first steps of the Camino.
But before I do that, I want to tell you about Angé.
Not just about her cancer. Not just about her dying.
About who she was.
Because that’s why I walk — not to escape her death, but to carry her life.
She was light.
She was fierce and slow, somehow at the same time.
She’d stop mid-sentence to marvel at a flower, and hours later, have a sharp comeback that made everyone laugh.
She wasn’t loud, but she was present — fully, deeply. When she listened, it was like the world paused. When she loved, it was without condition. And when she laughed, it cracked open the air.
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🌻 She noticed everything.
She’d point out a sunflower growing between two paving stones.
She’d remember a child’s name from a conversation a year ago.
She’d see the good in people who couldn’t see it in themselves.
She moved through life slowly, but with purpose. Never rushed. Never scattered. And while I sometimes found her pace frustrating — “Come on, Angé!” — now I’d give anything to slow down beside her again.
Angé didn’t demand attention.
She earned it.
With kindness. With gentleness. With that steady strength that doesn’t need to prove itself.
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🌻 She was a warrior — not in armour, but in presence.
When the cancer came, she didn’t fight in the traditional sense. She didn’t shout “I’m going to beat this.” She didn’t rage.
She made choices.
She asked hard questions.
She refused to be reduced to a diagnosis.
She found power in the tiny things — holding someone’s hand, sitting in the sun, letting her hair grow back on her own terms.
She still made space for other people’s pain, even when she was drowning in her own. That was Angé. Always others-first. Always love-first.
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🌻 Why I Walk
I walk because Angé never got the chance.
We talked about it — the Camino. One day, she said. Maybe when life slowed down. Maybe after this or that. But that “one day” never came.
So now I walk for her.
With her.
And maybe, a little bit, as her.
I carry her photo. I carry her words.
I carry a sunflower sewn into my pack and a QR code on my sleeve that leads people to her story.
This isn’t just my Camino.
It’s ours.
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🌻 This is not closure. This is continuation.
People keep asking if this walk will bring closure. It won’t.
Angé doesn’t need to be “closed.” She needs to be carried. Celebrated.
Remembered for her wild grace and sunflower heart.
This Camino is how I start doing that, step by step.
Not to get over the loss — but to live with it.
And to invite others to do the same.
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🌻 If you knew her, you know why. If you didn’t — now you do.
She was kindness in motion.
She was grace under pressure.
She was sunflowers and sea breeze and open-hearted wonder.
She saw life clearly and chose beauty anyway.
And so, as I walk through Portugal and Spain in her name, I invite you to do something with me.
🌻 Plant a sunflower.
📸 Capture the moment.
📝 Tell your story.
👉 angeforsunflowers.com
This isn’t just about Angé.
It’s about your person too. The one you carry. The one you miss.
Let’s remember them with sunflowers. With stories. With movement.
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Three days to go.
And every step forward from here is for her.
Buen Camino.
Ian 🌻👣
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