Since my Dad died, I’ve questioned where home now lies. At his funeral, a childhood friend asked, now that both my parents were gone, would I have anything to return to? It made me wonder if home exist only in our hearts and minds? Is the world of formative years, the atlas of my dreams, my real home? Is it a place that I will always yearn for but can never return to? Continue reading HOME →

My grandfather Jim William Cunningham, known as J.W., was always an old man to me. On visits to our home, he’d sit tapping his walking stick on the lino floor while talking with my Dad about the events of the day. There was little engagement with us kids. We didn’t sit on his lap or play with his glasses, which sat in a wonky gaze across his nose. We didn’t try on his Fedora style hat, a throwback to another era. If he wanted our attention as we played on the floor, he’d tap us with his stick. “Go tell your mammy to make a cuppa tea”. He wasn’t a gruff man by any means. Like many of his generation he adhered to the 15th century proverb that ‘children were not to be heard’. Continue reading GRANDA →

My Father had a small collection of beautiful old cameras when we were growing up. The silver lenses focused by popping out, accordion like, on black paper bellows. This wasn’t a treasured collection. They were kept with other, long forgotten memories, in a large tea chest in our spare room. A room on the ‘top-floor’ which doubled as our attic space. Continue reading THE LAST PHOTOGRAPH →

It was March 7th when Dad first heard his dire prognosis. Pancreatic cancer was the most likely culprit. Dr. Muhamed explained the options, or lack of. A biopsy to confirm the diagnosis, followed by some mild chemo. The Oncologist, on his rounds the following Tuesday, would advise further. Up to this point Dad had struggled to understand all that was being said. Being deaf in one ear, caused by an infection in his youth, and not being used to the various colourful accents of the medical staff, meant that either my sister Margaret or I had to ‘translate’ the grim news now being relayed.
Dad, voice breaking, whispered in a solemn tone of acceptance. Dr Muhamed turned and lent in, asking Dad to repeat what he’d said.  “I don’t want a biopsy” he repeated. Continue reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD →

The car lay upside down, off the road at a notorious corner between Largy and Fintra. I was lying inside, on the roof, looking out the back window. I could see the moonlight over the bay through the rushes. I was totally disorientated. One moment we were driving along, excitedly chatting nonsense as usual, then, suddenly, there was dark and total silence.
The car was heading for the ditch on the right. Seamus managed to pull back and then we veered to the left, then back to the right again. I had a flashback of a day out when Frank Boyle had brought Seamus and I to the bumping cars in Bundoran. It seemed, slow motion like, to take ages before we hit and soared, tumbling a few times before coming to a rest. No one spoke. Continue reading TWO MINUTE WARNING →

“In the name of the Father, the Son and the holy Spirit, Amen” Fr. McDyer’s large hands moved slowly, sloth-like, in the familiar pattern of the sign of the cross. He sat at the top of the room, dressed in traditional black. His eyes closed, long disconnected from those around him. “In ainm an Athar agus an Mhic agus an Spioraid Naoimh.” The forty minute period was spent teaching a class of uninterested seventeen year old teenagers how to bless themselves, over and over again. Fr. Mc Dyer was filling in for Fr. Sweeney for our only religion class of the week. Fr. Sweeney was off tending to his flock of sheep, literally.
It was 1979 and Ireland was gearing itself up for Pope John Paul II’s visit later in the year. The country was at fever pitch. Continue reading THE HOLY TRINITY →

“You find this bloody funny, mate?” he asked menacingly, with a gun pointed at my head.
I had been chatting with two young Cork girls who were travelling to Donegal for the first time. They were worried about the journey through the north. I, being a gentleman, confirmed all their fears. It was likely that we would be stopped, questioned at gunpoint and all aboard would be strip searched. It seemed like fun at the time to tease them and see the anxiety in their faces as we approached the border. It was 1981 and I was travelling on the express bus from Dublin to Letterkenny. Continue reading TROUBLES →

“Look at all these oul’ ones” Micheal said with a wry smile, “Wondering who’ll be next”.
The occupants of Carrick graveyard were welcoming one of their own home. Our cousin William James, who lived a full life at sea, had passed after a long illness and a crowd of his friends and family had gathered to ensure his safe and final passage. His closest family lined up above the freshly filled grave to receive the orderly queue which had formed, slowly shuffling to commiserate. A quick handshake, “Sorry for your loss” and move on. Continue reading THE LAST BUS →

Fr. Carney tapped on the lid of the coffin, which was now pulled to one side of the church aisle. ‘That’s for you tomorrow Ciaran’ he said, looking at me with a wink and a broad grin. I was anxious enough during the rehearsal, without any Fr Ted moments, and gave a nervous laugh. We were getting married in St. Eunan’s Cathedral at one o’clock the next day, slotted in after a early morning funeral. Fr Michael Carney was a novice curate and this was only his second wedding. This was our first and as the parish priest had refused to marry us, we were delighted to have him on our side. We had been through the obligatory pre-marriage course. A long weekend run by unmarried men guiding young couples on the road to a successful marriage. The irony of this did not go unnoticed by those in attendance. Continue reading SOMETHING BORROWED… →

“What are you crying for?” she asked. I looked at her and wondered where she got her strength from. She had been in hospital for ten days. They had run all kinds of tests and found nothing. Now, on the day she was to go home, she was comforting me.

“Isn’t it better they found something now?” She was relieved, glad they hadn’t sent her home only for it to be discovered six months later.
My mother had just been diagnosed with cancer. Continue reading MOTHER →