The Dedication

Yesterday Nick received some deeply significant news. This is his post.

On Monday morning I was awoken with a 6:30am phone call from my Dad in France. 

He'd just recieved a call from the police in Adelaide advising of my Grandmother's death earlier that day.

By all accounts she died peacefully in her sleep, and was found by a staff member at her retirement village on a regular check-in round.

The shock, denial, anger, sorrow and guilt of this news is still coursing through my veins.

Partly because I didn't return her voicemail she left on my birthday while we were in Bali. Partly because 6 days ago I sent her a postcard from Switzerland excitedly sharing our adventures that she now won't receive. But mostly because Liz and I are on the other side of the world, so far away, and at the start of a life changing pilgrimage.

The big question now is what do we do? Do we go back to Australia for the funeral and start the walk later on? Do we continue, and pay our respects in another way?

The way we dealt with this yesterday was to lace up our boots and walk 22km from Chatillon to Issogne. I don't think I could have coped sitting around in a strange hostel on an enforced "rest" day.

In retrospect it was the right decision to make. However Liz's feet didn't seem to think so. 

Today we spent the day resting in Issogne, reducing our weight by posting our sleeping bags and surplus clothes to Anna in Switzerland, stocking up on blister care supplies, and letting Liz thread her blisters with betadine. This should hopefully make her a happy camper. Or happier at least.

The question about what to do is still up in the air. My Granny was not an overly sentimental woman, never wanting a fuss to be made of her. 

All I know is that her strength and tenacity, illustrated by her training as a Doctor during WW2 (a feat for a woman in those days), emigrating from England to Australia in the 1960's and then teaching medicine at Flinders University late in her career, laid the foundation for my attitude to life. And one never to suffer fools, she always listened and offered advice to her frequently naive ( read foolish) grandson, Nicholas.

Her love of both France and Italy was what in part inspired this whole journey, and it may be only fitting to continue on our quest, and honour her with a lighted candle at St Peters in Rome.

    Vale Marjorie Dubberley

    Semper in corde meo.

    To you we dedicate our walk!