There is something deep inside of me that is loosened by alcohol. I am not sure if it is a feeling of inadequacy, shyness, or reluctance, but I recognise that if I have a glass or two of wine, and I am near my computer- I am compelled to write my thoughts down.
Since I began blogging last year (July 2011) I have wanted to record and write so many things… It started out as a kind of living diary for me and for my already grown up children… I wanted them to somehow ‘see’ the person that was inside their mother….
I wanted them to separate the familiar ‘mammy’ that they knew and grew up with, from the woman that I was before they were born and who also lived a parallel life while they were children.
My ramblings were not intended for them to scrutinise in the ‘here and now’- they were for after I was gone.
This was the shyness, or the reluctance that stopped me from publically posting my blog for such a long time. I was afraid of being questioned, afraid of being ridiculed, afraid of being judged.
Becoming a blogger in the past year, I have learnt that writing personal stories, thoughts and histories, and sharing them amongst friends and family has actually been one of the most liberating experiences of my life.
It can sometimes be difficult to articulate fears and inexperience, to flounder in the face of adversity, and in front of people who expect that you will always perform to your optimum.
Blogging has allowed me to share how unsteady I have felt in my past, and also how I recognise that my future is not mapped out and assured.
I began writing this blog as a life diary for my children so that they could somehow know me after I was gone, but in writing it, I am getting to know myself more so than I ever thought possible by simply recounting my life and recording it.
Is this Destinydelivered?
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It’s such a commonly used expression –
Irish people use it all the time. We throw it around casually in conversations….. “At the end of the day she was acting the maggot and I will NEVER be friends with her again”… “At the end of the day the score was even and the ref was SOOOO right”. “At the end of the day he was such a fecker that I dumped him”.
“At the end of the day” is a colloquialism- a part of the popular Irish vernacular, and although a lot of people use it frequently in conversation, I don’t honestly believe that we think too much about what lies behind the words that we are saying.
Circumstances have a way of making you sit up and take notice of what was once ordinary become extraordinary…….
At the end of the day on Wednesday I learnt that my mother’s terminal cancer had spread to other organs in her body…
At the end of the day I realised that her treatment had not halted this terrible disease despite medical interventions and chemotherapy….
At the end of the day I was alone with her as we were told that the results of her recent scans did not herald good news…..
At the end of the day we were sitting together quietly in a hospital room hearing words that extinguished all hope….
At the end of the day I was sitting with my mother the moment that we realised that the actual end of the day was coming sooner than we thought….
I am currently confused about the meaning of Destiny…..
Posted in A presumed future, Anniversary, Belief, cancer, Care, Chance, children., Cliches, Death, destiny, family, Friends, Funeral, Future, Gentleness, Grandmother, Guru, happiness, Health Care, Honesty, Hospitals, Individual, Influence, Innocence, Inspiration, investement, Ireland, Irish, Kindness, Language, Learning, life, Loss, love, Meaning, Miscellaneous, Mortality, Mothers, Older People, Parents, People, Promises, Resolutions, rich, stock, Thanks, Thoughts, tradition, Treasure, Truth, uncatagorised, Uncategorized, University, Vocal, Work
Tagged Death, Destiny, family, love, mothers
Missing you is not something that I think about every minute of every day.
Missing you is something different.
Missing you is not hearing your voice and laughter.
Missing you is not smelling your special sweet smell.
Missing you is not having you to hug and listen to.
Missing you is looking at your children and seeing your lovely features in them.
Missing you is our stories and history unfinished.
Missing you is my present and future without you.
Missing you is like missing the other half of me.
Missing you is simply always missing you.
Posted in A presumed future, Anniversary, Care, Cliches, destiny, family, Friends, Future, Hope, Inspiration, Ireland, life, Loss, love, Meaning, Miscellaneous, Mortality, People, Philosophy, Thoughts, Truth, uncatagorised, Uncategorized
Growing up in the 70’s all of my friends were people that I knew intimately. That’s what the word ‘friend’ meant to me. This ideal remained unchanged throughout most of my life and the people that I called friends were physical people that I knew and socialised with.
Meeting new people who have shared interests and that you ‘click’ with has always been difficult for me. I have been bored many times by friends of friends on nights out who prattled on about stuff that didn’t engage me, and then again there have been spectacular conversations with casual strangers who have been on the periphery of the company that I was with on particular nights. I often wished that I was brave enough to ask some of these people to meet up with me again so that we could continue the conversations and discussions another time long after the night was over. My own insecurities gagged and stopped me. Half of the time it was probably just as well. Morning sobriety has its own way of negating the previous night’s ‘stimulating conversation’.
Meeting people that we are compatible with is so hit and miss and random. It seems to be reflected in the proliferation of ‘Date/Mate sites’ that are all over the Internet, attempting to match people with similar interests together. In the past ten years because of the Internet and on line social media, the idea of ‘friends’ has become much more complex in one way and yet more fluid in another.
There are places on the Internet where people who have shared interests can gather, relate and chat. This can be a cyber/virtual place where your actual global location has no bearing or relevance to the conversation or interaction that is taking place. I adore this relatively new medium.
As an avid Scrabble player I have discovered and found new friends with common interests on the World Wide Web. I have played games with people who drift in and out of my life and disappear, and I have also made friends with others who I play with regularly and who I have conversations with about stuff that is personal and relevant to our lives. Although I may not recognise them if I met them on a street like I did growing up, some of these people have become very dear to me and are as important to me as the friends that I see on a regular basis in my daily life in Dublin.
I have been an enthusiastic user of the Internet since its origins and I believe that I can distinguish the good and the bad that lies at the heart of it. One of my first online cyber conversations was with a widow called Sally who hailed from Kansas and whose local Council had bought computers for all the far flung people in her locality so that they could chat and keep in touch with each other. They had also provided lessons for these neighbours on how to use the computers that were a life line to this scattered community. She was 76 years of age and was so thrilled to be type chatting (slowly) online with someone from Ireland. She had always wanted to visit, but sadly never got to make that journey. We stayed in touch for years. We had a lot in common as women and we never ran out of conservation when we were on line. We gossiped like old pals with shared history, and I got to know her and her family through our many chats.
The internet has opened up new ways of making friends for me. I have ‘met’ delightful people throughout the world, and I have had the most wonderful stimulating and complex conversations that would not have been possible without this medium. It has illuminated me on subjects, locations and histories that I lacked understanding of, but that have come alive and understood through the conversations that I have had with ‘virtual friends’. This has added a richness, colour and diversity to my life in ways that I simply cannot articulate.
This week I am welcoming a ‘virtual friend’ to my home for a visit. We have been friends for about five years. We have shared life’s ups and downs on line in the same way that I have shared the same events with my physical friends here in Ireland. We have laughed and cried about events that have shaped our individual lives although we have been thousands of miles apart when these events took place.
We started out playing Scrabble, and then we graduated to Facebook and regular on line chats. This weekend we will finally meet face to face. I am so looking forward to hugging her and welcoming her into my home as I do all my friends.
Without the Internet we would never have become pals. Without the Internet I would not have the relationships that I have with many people stretched across the globe.
Growing up in Dublin I had friends that I recognised by their faces, but this has changed. My many online friends may not be facially recognisable to me, but they are part of a global network that is as meaningful and relevant to me as are the people that I interact with physically on a day to day basis.
Friends are people who understand and love you regardless of where you are in the world.
Destiny can be about making real friends in the most unexpected places….
Posted in A presumed future, Belief, Care, Chance, Cliches, Dreams, Friends, Gentleness, happiness, Honesty, Inspiration, Investment, Ireland, Irish, Jewels, Kindness, Knowledge, Learning, life, Loss, love, Meaning, Miscellaneous, People, Philosophy, Promises, Resolutions, Security, Sparkle, Thanks, Thoughts, Treasure, Truth, uncatagorised, Uncategorized