The more I walk the more space there seems to be in my head/life to remember , to laugh and to cry.
✍️ Day 3 – Blog Post
🗓️ 1 July 2025
Title: Day 3 – Grief in Motion
Subtitle: Some things can only be healed on foot
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I’ve always believed that walking is thinking, just slower.
Since Angé died, the grief hasn’t stayed in one place.
It moves. It weaves its way through memories and moments.
It rises in the supermarket aisle. Falls in the silence of an empty bed.
It stiffens my back, weighs my legs, steals my breath.
But when I walk — something shifts.
Grief gets tangable
And that seems to make space to breath a little. Smile a little
Yesterday I spent the whole day walking through Amsterdam. Visiting some of the places we visited, having coffee at the same places. Painful but therapeutic.
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🌻 The Camino as a Vessel
People think walking is just physical. But on the Camino,
Each step says:
“I’m still here.”
Each breath says:
“She still matters.”
Each kilometre says:
“This love doesn’t end.”
I’m not walking to get away from the pain.
I’m walking so the pain can stretch out and soften.
So it doesn’t sit like a stone in my chest.
So it becomes something I embrace with love, not try and overcome it
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🌻 What I Carry
I carry sunflower seeds to grow a movement
I carry a bit of Angé to leave along the path with the sunflowers
I carry her memory in every step.
The quiet mornings. The hospital nights. The laughter in the middle of a storm.
I carry all of it.
But the Camino doesn’t just ask what you carry.
It asks how.
It teaches you to lighten the load.
To carry with intention.
To honour the weight without letting it break you.
And so I walk.
Not to fix anything.
Not to outrun the ache.
But to move with it.
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🌻 For Everyone Walking Their Own Camino
Grief is its own Camino.
You may never lace up hiking boots or fly to Lisbon, but I know — you’re walking, too. Through memories. Through loss. Through days you never asked for.
Maybe your grief is fresh. Maybe it’s buried deep.
Maybe you’re holding it together for others. Or maybe you’re falling apart and hiding it well.
Whatever your walk looks like, know this:
You’re not alone.
There’s power in movement — even if it’s just a walk around the block.
Even if it’s a walk through old photos.
Even if it’s a walk across your own living room, one heavy foot at a time.
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🌻 Let’s Walk Together
If you’ve lost someone — to cancer, to time, to circumstance — you’re invited to join me in a simple act of remembrance:
🌻 Plant a sunflower.
📸 Capture the moment.
📝 Share your story.
👉 angeforsunflowers.com
You don’t have to walk far. Just walk honestly.
With love. With memory. With motion.
Sharing certainly makes the pain bearable
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🌻 Tomorrow: “The Soul of the Camino”
What is it that draws so many to this ancient route?
What does it mean to walk a sacred path with strangers who become family?
Tomorrow, we look at the soul of this trail — and the unexpected grace it gives.
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Buen Camino.
Ian 🌻👣
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