A year and a day.

For the first time in my living memory or at least since I was a very young child, I did not stay up on New Year’s Eve to ring in the New Year. Previous New Year’s Eves have seen me sitting on the stairs in the Cork Road, whilst the neighbours squished into our house for the out with the old and in with the new celebrations. Dark haired men would bring a lump of coal in the back door to help the household have good luck and ‘enough’ in the coming year. Auld Lang Syne would be sang out on the road, big circles of neighbours, arms linked with voices competing with the loud horn blowing boats on the quay. My Dad would sing Sweet Sixteen. I think my love of house parties started at very young age. I have always been sentimental about New Years Eve and like to mark the dawning of a fresh year while already being nostalgic about the one just passed.

This year I found myself in bed between 10pm and 10.30pm on New Years Eve. I drifted off to sleep to the sounds of my daughter and her friends joyously celebrating her 18th birthday. This was the first time that said daughter ( who daily makes my world a better place) celebrated her birthday with her friends on the actual day of her birthday. It’s also been the first time in a long time that an alcohol fuelled gathering took place in our house.

I wasn’t just in bed because I was surplus to the requirements of the party shenanigans. I had made my plans to be in bed and not ring in The New Year as far back as June. New Year’s Day 2019 would mark a year to the day since I last had seen my brother. He had been in Waterford to partake in an early celebration of our Mam’s 90th birthday on Jan 1st 2018, as a return trip for her actual birthday on the 20th wasn’t feasible so soon after the Christmas holidays.

That was the last time I got to speak to him in person, lay eyes on him and get a big brotherly bear hug as we said Goodbye outside the Majestic Hotel in Tramore. A casual “See you later in the year” kind of goodbye. I missed his visit home in April as I was away. Disappointed, as I was that our trips clashed at the time, I was full of bitter regret after his death to have missed his last visit home.

It also was the first new calendar year that he would not be alive to enjoy. There is something bleak about time bringing you further away. Below is an excerpt from something I wrote in my cream hardback in early June. It still holds true.

There is no bargaining with death,
No honed negotiation skills to be brought to bear,
No squaring of this circle in my life.
I feel that each days passing
takes me further away from you.
Each breath drawn is one without you."

Add to this that, one of my closest friends and her family were embarking on their own rough unhewn and raw grief path with the sudden and tragic death of a much loved family member. It had been a tough few days and I dreaded the road ahead of them.
The funeral service had taken place that morning…… Bed was really the only place for me.

Before I took myself off, I sat in my party ready, re-arranged kitchen and listened to the strumming of a guitar and the magical playing of an accompanying ukulele and some very sweet clear voices. I sat where John & I had sat a year before to the day, his last time at my well worn kitchen table. We’ve had some good times around our table.

My heart was gladdened by the euphonious melodies and for the first time in a long time I felt a ripple of simple joy enter my being. A fleeting few moments of peace on dry land.. Sad peace. The singing and the music was beautiful and John would have loved it, not just the music but the gathering. Gatherings have long been a respected tradition in our family and John Quinn was a gatherer of people.

I was also very impressed by the notion that the current crop of 18 year olds would sit together in such wonderful harmony engaged in an activity that I could relate to. I sat in with them for a rendition of ” Winter Song” , sang as a duet and made a discreet exit again before I was completely undone. Sleep came easily with wisps of their music making, drifting upwards and soothing me like a well worn blanket.

I slept through till pre dawn, about five o’ clock and awoke with with a sense of urgency, startled from my sleep by the knowledge of his death.. After a quick tidy up, I then made good on the territorial advantage that early rising had given me and laid claim to the sofa for the day. I slept for large parts of the day too, on the sofa, actually most of it, tiredness providing a numbing respite from the significance of the date.

And so it was, the 2nd day of the New Year, a year and a day since last we met that I was able to let John come unbidden to my mind and let my love and grief intertwine. It was a day of sadness but not of overwhelm. I went to one of our favourite places and found that space between the sea & the sky where I feel connected.

The Guillamenes is where I experience my fleeting moments of equilibrium. Where I can just be, the entirety of everything buoyed up by the ocean. It is where the beauty of the setting puts manners on me, the lure of the sea overcomes my fear of the cold. I yield my resistance and submerge. Immersion in the cold water reminds me of my physical being.

So on the year and the day there was nothing for it but to have the first swim of 2019 as well. In my heart I’m swimming for two.


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