I returned to the United States last week and find myself trying to start a new project this morning. It is something I have mulled for the past two weeks yet it is difficult to begin because so much of my head is still back in Ireland. I see the churchyard and fringe of sturdy beech trees in front of which my father lies sleeping. I see the flagstone path up to his grave which I helped to lay in conjunction with my youngest brother Dermot and brother-in-law Michael and my nephews. I see my mother sitting alone in the living room saying her novenas, praying for me, for Dad, fore all of us. I see Siobhan hugging Max, the lovable puppy she fell in love with at first glance despite her insisting my nephew had to have a dog that wouldn't shed. I see Floss, the Springer Spaniel puppy my brotehr Dermot's children had to get when they knew their cousin had a new puppy. I see the enclosures my father built for the puppies just before his death. I see my sister Deirdre at work in the broadband I helped set up for her. I see my brother Seamus wait fro the letter telling him he can come up for the epidural to Belfast for the epidural that hopefully will take away the pain in his back. I see Dermot gazing at our Dad's photograph on his bedside table before tuirning off his light.
Time will let us all move on, but he will be with us and we will never forget him.