A Pilgrimage

I have started to think of my frequent trips to Switzerland as a pilgrimage, which sets it apart from travelling. A pilgrimage is a quest to renew faith, to discover self and the sacred. Such a journey is deeply sentimental.

For the last 10 years I have tried to see my father's sister in Switzerland every year. Our visits quickly became deeply moving for both of us. Every family has a person that holds the history, the teller of the stories, and my Aunt was such a person. She was the one that could put a name to all the people in the blurry black and white photographs, and each photo would bring a memory about that person to share. She was also my father's confidante and thus has been able to give me insights into my own family. Through her I have a better understanding of my father, what motivated him, his worries and dreams. I am very thankful that she wrote some of these reflections down for me as they serve to affirm my past, our family's place on the farm and the deep love and respect he had for my husband and I.

My Aunt Michele visiting her brother at his home on the Ranch, the summer before he passed away, 1999.

 The end of life brings an intensity of emotions and memories, and I did have the honor to share this time with my family in Switzerland. My Aunt had not been well since soon after Christmas, and as spring came I made my way to her home in Hermance.   It was a true honor to be with her and the rest of her family as she passed. I am so happy that my Aunt was able to stay in her home until her final breath. She loved her house and the village of Hermance. I have become very attached to the village as well, feeling a sense of home as I wander around the cobbled streets. I liked to think of my father and grandmother walking the same paths and gazing upon the same vistas.

One of my Aunt's favorite views of Hermance.

Hermance is surrounded by forest trails as well as a beautiful walk along a river. This is part of the river trail walk.

There will be changes to come as we all adjust to the loss of my Aunt although my pilgrimage to her home will not end with her passing.  I will still be drawn there to reconnect with family and place.

The day of my Aunt's funeral I spend a few minutes napping with one of my second cousins.

It was as if I held my hand on everything at once,

my Goddaughter’s hand, my Aunt’s arm,

the stone where my father’s foot once fell.

The village under that hazy light I love so much.

Love so much.

The long reach of the stony beach and all a deep pounding blue,

leaving me breathless.

The breath swept up along each stone paved path,

up onto the hill above rose colored roof.

The air holding all of us, all this life,

in this single precious moment.

One of those times that you would want to live forever,

immortal.

In the soft evening air, everything seems to caress you.

As if you are being covered by the most gentlest of kisses.

And you think,

impossible to let this go.