It appear that something important happened at some point.
Anger for the loss and pain felt dissipated and was replaced with acknowledgement of the greatness of one man. He live by a simple moral code, but never deviated from it and never compromised it by his actions.
The inevitable sadness still remains, although it is now shared with a slight selfish hope that maybe I am on the right course to live up to his example. It would be foolish to think that I can in anyway do this in the same way as he did.
The stone that was destined to be thrown became the embodiment of that anger. So what exactly did I imagine was going to happen at the end?
I would take off my pack, remove the pebble, all without slowing my pace. The length of my stride would increase and I would accelerate toward the coast line and on reaching it, launch the stone towards the sky. I imaged roaring at the waves in defiance and anger, releasing the rage I felt. Fists clenched and held at my sides with all my muscles tensed.
This would have been wrong. There was no anger at the end and once the final few days arrived, I had set my mind on finishing on the 38th day regardless of what happened.
The stone now is amongst the other stones at the base of the fingerpost marking the end of my journey. If you look, you will see it and not how it is completely different to all the other stones there. It stands out from the rest like my grandfather did, but at the same time, it blends in and doesn’t make a show of its presence or the journey it was part of to get there.
I carry your name and will continue to live one adventure at a time, trying simply to live up to your memory.