Bernadette Kuiper the 20,000th pilgrim
Bernadette Kuiper is our 20,000th pilgrim. To mark this special moment, we decided to put her in the spotlight: we gave her two nights as a gift. When I called Bernadette, she hesitantly told me that she is a writer, has quit her job and that she wants to write a book about death. She wanted to invite her father and brother on her path to talk about her sister’s death. Something they had done too little, talking together about the death of her sister. Below is Bernadette’s story.
The arrow of my mouse hangs above the ‘register’ button. Well, no, well, no… Registering as a ‘pilgrim’ is the only way to get more information about the Walk of Wisdom walking route. But I don’t know yet if I want to walk the path. Am I going to voluntarily walk a pilgrimage route to contemplate the death of my sister, now twenty-five years ago? I hesitate for another three seconds and then I click, ‘register’ and ‘confirm’.
Two minutes later the phone rings. ‘With Manja from the Walk of Wisdom. You are the 20,000th pilgrim! We like to do some promotion around that, but then my question is when you want to go and whether you are going to walk the tour in one go?’ ‘Oh! Well Manja,’ I begin, ‘I don’t know yet. I share my considerations with her. ‘Twenty-five years ago, my sister died. I was eighteen, she was twenty-two. That’s how young we were and life went on so fast… On your site it says “If you don’t take the time to think about your experiences, you won’t get any wiser.” And so maybe it’s time to do that?’
I leave on the twentieth of September, after a special departure ceremony. When we are asked one by one why we are going to run, I don’t know what to say. I am helped by someone who says that she wants to ‘give loss a place’. What she said,’ I say with a sniffle. At a quarter past eleven I cross the Waal, my Rubicon. I am euphoric because finally on my way. The anticipation is over. I only have one task left, to keep going.
‘The fun is over,’ I write in my notebook at two o’clock in the afternoon. I am on the road for just under three hours, about twelve kilometers walked. Six and a half days and one hundred and thirty-five kilometers to go. My legs and my shoulders hurt. My backpack is too heavy. I read the note from my eleven-year-old daughter, which she put in my backpack and which I was only allowed to read when I am on the road. ‘Dear mom, good luck with your trip! Say hello to my aunt and don’t forget: “trust your journey, your speed douzind matter, forward is forward!” She is right.
“Ah, there she is! The 20,000th pilgrim! Sit down! Give that child a drink!’ For example, I am welcomed at hotel Sous Les Eglises, where I can spend the night for free as an anniversary pilgrim. This warm bath is at least equaled by camping de Zoete Aagt where the next day, after thirty kilometers of walking, I stumble onto the site. There are garlands hanging from the fantastic gypsy wagon where I can stay and there is a bottle of (non-alcoholic!) champagne ready. Gone are the tired legs and aching shoulders!
And so I continue my path. Way too many kilometers a day. Sometimes cursing, sometimes crying. But I feel cherished throughout the journey. Through garlands, beech cathedrals, the sun, ‘your speed douzind matter’, fellow pilgrims and of course the brown figure along the route that shows me the way. That cherishment is always there, even twenty-five years ago after my sister’s death. I had forgotten that. I had forgotten that in addition to the darkness, the pain and the crushing silence, there was also attention, love and happiness. This insight makes the memory softer, more nuanced. Death is not just loss. Thank you for this wonderful trip and for allowing me to be the 20,000th!
