Time Waits for No Man

Incredibly, it has been almost 15 years since our world suddenly ground to a halt. 15 years since our lives turned into 'before' and 'after'. 15 years of learning to live with a Sproggy-shaped hole in our lives.

I am finding it really difficult to put pen to paper these days (fingers to keyboard, more like). Life is incredibly busy and I do not seem to get much time to really pause, think and let the ink flow as often as I would like. Maybe subconsciously I do not want to either because doing so might pull the scab off older (and newer) wounds. Even though life pulls me along; over bumps and through potholes the size of craters; not a day goes by that I do not think about our curly haired, dimple-y faced little first born. 

I recently spent some time going through some my earlier posts and specifically those that came before Eoghan was born all the way back in 2011, a mere 10 months after SUDC had taken Patrick. Knowing that he would never meet his older brother was something that I struggled with so so much. How could we make sure Patrick remained part of the family and Eoghan would feel some manner of connection to this absent big brother - as abstract a concept as it might be for him? 

Almost 15 years later I can say that Patrick has remained in our lives and in our family. He is as present as he can be. By speaking about him, answering any question the kids sent our way as honestly as we can (and there have been many!) and by marking his birthdays just like we mark everybody's birthday in this house (with a cake breakfast!), he remained present in our home as well as in their minds. 

It makes my heart feel so full to see Patrick included in every little drawing of the family. Both children instinctively put him right there beside themselves along with the cat and all. Even in school when the kids drew members of their family, there he was. He is spoken about openly in class, that other brother, the one 'what died'. Might have made for some interesting conversations with teachers over the years! But: I'd rather interesting conversations than the silence that childloss used to be shrouded in.

Marking his birthday with cake as we do, I think, meant that in their eyes, he's growing older, too. Caoilfhionn will say he is the oldest of the siblings. She regularly cocks her head, deep creases appearing across her forehead, thinking very hard trying to figure out what exact age he would be now.  'He might be almost ready to learn to drive soon!' or 'He'd be in 5th class in secondary school!'

It is so very bittersweet to hear him be included like this and I hope it won't ever stop. I honestly cannot believe we are almost 15 years into living without this wonderful little boy. It does not seem that long ago. Thinking about the events that day will never get any easier. If I sit and cast my mind back to January 25th 2011, I can feel that panic, that fear that turned into absolute horror. Sitting all the way in Berlin, helpless and utterly lost. Then I try imagine what was going on for Pat at that same time and it breaks my heart in all sorts of different ways all over again. Having to see him in the creche, watching the medics work on him, hospital, the doctors having to 'call it'... 

Just how do you learn to live with all those memories and pictures in your head? Somehow we did. Perhaps because there simply isn't a choice.  Perhaps because the brain protects us from the true enormity of it all. Perhaps it makes sure we deal with grief in bite-sized chunks because all of it at once would make us choke.

"The reminders pull the floor from your feet

In the kitchen, one more chair than you need oh

And you're angry, and you should be, it's not fair

Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it, isn't there

If they say

Who cares if one more light goes out?

In the sky of a million stars

It flickers, flickers

Who cares when someone's time runs out?

If a moment is all we are

We're quicker, quicker

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do"

            Linkin Park

Sproggy and Tipoki - much loved & missed.

Peaks for Patrick 3 - Gleninchaquin Waterfall June 2021

https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html

June 2021 finally brought us back to Kerry and to Kenmare, allowing us a magical hike up to the top of Gleninchaquin Waterfall in Gleninchaquin Park on the beautiful Beara Peninsula. All through the winter and spring lockdowns, I'd been longing for those few days away. It's a place that soothes the soul. If your batteries are low and need recharging - this is just the place for that.

The elderflower was still in full bloom and here, in this little piece of heaven, we spotted some pink elderflower which I had not seen before. It looked so pretty...and as for the delicate scent of the gorgeous little flowers...unbelievable.

When we hike to the top of the waterfall with the kids, we always like to take the Riverwalk up. It meanders up alongside an often wildly gushing stream of water and the only sounds you will hear will be that of the water and the sheep baaing nearby. Sheep were Patrick's favourite and he'd often come home after creche to walk over to our portable DVD player to watch a few episodes of either Timmy Time or Shaun The Sheep - happily bopping along to the theme music.

Once you clear the Riverwalk, you come up to what has to be one of the most beautiful picnic spots in the country. Views reaching far down the valley, overlooking the lakes and the amazing Uragh Stone Circle. The light constantly changes with the passing clouds casting shadows onto the ancient mountains and valley below. You could get absolutely lost in your thoughts and memories up here sipping your tea or coffee.

Next you head up some steep steps along the trail. Through gates and over stiles, past sheep and trying (and failing) to dodge sheep do. You cannot really see it from the bottom but there is a bridge right at the top of that waterfall which, actually, gets even more amazing the wetter the conditions. Head out there on a dryish day just after some heavy downpours in the days prior. You'll be blown away by the sheer force of the water coming down the cliff face - with the goats and sheep just munching away at the foot of it...completely oblivious, it seems, to the beauty before them.

From the bridge you have the most gorgeous views of entire valley. A perfect vantage point to spot the signs of human habitation in this part of the world spanning hundreds, if not thousands of years. From the time of the people who built Uragh Stone Circle to the modern day farmers who tend to their sheep.

The trail leads on after the bridge and down the other side towards Cummeenadillure Lough but as that's a bit tricky to navigate for smaller legs in places, we tend to walk back the way we came and stop by the bottom of the waterfall at one of the picnic benches for another break.

Once fuelled up on sandwiches, Rich Teas and Tea, on we go to join the Heritage Trail with a short excursion up to Cummeenadillure Lough - a deep, black lake which someone living in the valley at the time once described to me as one of those Thin Places...a place where the veil between this and the next world is particularly thin; a place where one can walk in both worlds. Standing there, in this quiet, rugged and remote place, it somehow just makes sense. It truly feels other-worldly. 

Along the Heritage Trail, the kids always enjoy exploring the old famine cottage while I, time and time again, feel humbled as I ponder the decimation of the valley's inhabitants in the times of the Famine. Life must have been incredibly hard in those days.

The path then leads us back down and across the fields where you walk among the sheep and beside the streams back to the car park with the waterfall in perfect view all along the way.

Gleninchaquin, for me at least, is a little piece of heaven on earth. It's the atmosphere, the quiet (apart from the sounds of gushing water, birds and sheep) and the scenery (and so much more) that make it so special. I am sure Patrick would have loved it here and so every time I come back, I carry him close to my heart as I walk those trails and listen to the sheep baaing. 

Whenever it rains

I'll open up my hands

And whisper your name

Alone you stand

Though you're not coming back for you we are strong

Though you're not coming back you will live on

                                                                    Barry Murphy "Alone You Stand"

Kudos to the kids for sticking with us up and down hills with relatively minor complaining....!

 

Peaks for Patrick 2 - Kerry Way Derrycunnihy Church to Lord Brandon's Cottage 28 May 2021

https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html

Not as much of a peak but an amazingly beautiful stretch of the stunning Kerry Way on a sunny day in May. The previous day was my birthday on which we did the Liscannor to Cliffs of Moher cliff walk...In pouring rain that (rather unsurprisingly for Ireland) got worse and worse as my mood nose dived. Soaked through to the skin, I refused to walk back to the car and insisted on a taxi which the good people at the visitor centre kindly arranged for us. Our hike the following day more than made up for it though!

Starting out at Derrycunnihy Church just before the famous Ladies View, we descended down the hill through some ancient oak woods. Over streams and along boardwalks we strolled along to the sound of the water gurgling and the birds chirping in the warm early summer sun. 

This is an out and back walk that is really enjoyable but probably tends to get muddy in places during the wetter months. The boardwalks help - as will good hiking boots. It was lovely to take our time to notice the beauty of nature around us.

There were traces of the people that used to live there a long time ago. Some time, someone built this house, raised a family there maybe. The air would have been filled with children laughing and the smell of the fire going. I often ask myself: Who lived there? Did they have a good life? What became of them? Why did they leave? Does anyone remember them still today?

The thought of people getting lost and forgotten in time is something that makes me a little sad. Knowing that eventually Patrick will be forgotten is something I struggle with even though I know it is envitable. His existence will some day be reduced to the few lines on his headstone with only occasionally someone stopping and wondering who he was and why he died so young. We do our best to keep his memory alive - hopefully these written records of us writing his name and telling his story will help our children and (please God) grand-children remember him.

Now, nature has taken back what was hers. There is a tree growing out of the wall of the cottage that strong hands built so many years ago. The people who lived there are long gone. I do hope someone in the area or even further afield remembers them. Maybe someone who traced their ancestors back to this spot. 

And what a beautiful spot it was. The walk rewarded us with stunning views of the Macgillicuddy Reeks. There were deer and streams and I wish we could have taken even more time immersing ourselves in our surroundings. Alas, we were on a deadline to be back to pick up the kids from afterschool so had to keep a beady eye on the time along our way.

We had our lunch at Lord Brandon's Cottage. Probably normally very busy with tourists from abroad, it was rather quiet given the ongoing travel restrictions. We had our pick of any of the lovely picnic benches and no queue to delay our getting a cool drink and something sweet to go with our packed lunch. The staff are very friendly and while the Cash Only policy (mainly due to the very poor internet connection) might catch some people by surprise, they are prepared for that and will seemingly often hand out self addressed envelopes for people to send the money later. A very decent thing to do and hopefully folks are honest enough to actually post what they owe.

It was enjoyable sitting there with a coffee and sandwhich for a while and watch the world go by. Some day, it might be nice to hike out there from Muckross but take the boat back across the lakes, taking in the Meeting of The Waters and Muckross Lake along the way.

Sooner than we wished we needed to, we started on our way back to the car but not without stopping at the Derrycunnihy Cascade and Falls for another short break. Given the rain the previous day, the river was full and the force of the water coming down the Falls magnificient to watch. However, stand still just for a second and the midges will be upon you. Stay longer and all they will have left of you will be your gnawed-clean skeletal remains....

So on we went up the hill and back to the car covered in a considerable amount of midge bites....

but with even more wonderful memories in our hearts.

Maybe you know
These people asleep
Suspended in time
Lying beneath.
Go seek the story
A life once known
Now twelve words chisled in stone

    "Hill of Graves", Hermitage Green

Peaks for Patrick -1: Maghera 25 Jan 2021

https://www.idonate.ie/fundraiser/11429343_in-memory-of-patrick-michael-o-loughlin.html

In 2021, we marked the 10th anniversary of Patrick's death.

10 years of birthdays and milestones. 10 years of wondering why. 10 years of miss. 10 years of memories and hoping they will never fade.

Lockdown made our usual traditions more challenging but I was determined to at least go visit his grave and sneak in a walk in his memory. 

On Jan 25th 2021, some of the country was covered under a blanket of fresh snow. So, after bringing him some nice flowers, we drove up towards Maghera for a walk in a true winter wonderland.

Snow does not happen very often in Ireland which made the walk even more magical. As schools were online at that time, we got to share that day with Patrick's brother. The pristine white snow, the sound of it under our boots, the quiet, the deep blue sky and the sunshine it was just what our souls needed at that time. 

It would be the first of many Peaks For Patrick in 2021 and I'll share the others in due course. 

                

Now it's time for me to go
A new dawn for my little soul
So goodbye beloved friend
There's a life beyond, this is not the end

MPK "Home"

The Heart-Shaped Puddle

There is a spot on the road in front of our house that, when it rains, creates a heart-shaped puddle.

When I sit in Eoghan's room, in the corner where Patrick's cot would have stood, working from home like so many people have been doing this year, I see that puddle. I see the reflection of the trees in it. I saw the colourful autumn leafs float in and dance around it as they fell. I saw nature hunkering down for another winter as a challenging year draws to a close. 

Even though the presence of that puddle means it either is or has been raining, I like seeing it there. The fact that I can see it from what used to be Patrick's room, makes me feel closer to him. It's comforting. 

Time has been relentlessly pushing on. In a few weeks, it will have been a decade since that day. So much has happened since but this still feels like it was only yesterday. While not as raw, that MISS is there every day - taking my breath away some days. The sense of "What just happened?" is near enough the same as then. 

Over the past 10 years, there have been more losses along the way. There have been many happy times. We've welcomed Eoghan soon after Patrick died. Our rainbow, who helped me through that first year. We brought home Caoilfhionn almost 6 years later. A rainbow in her own right - a feisty one, as it turns out. We both turned 40.

This year, lock-down meant Patrick's birthday came and went without us being able visit his grave. 

This year has been one of the strangest in a long time. Much of what makes our experience of life living, has been put on hold. Plans were canceled....sometimes multiple times. It's been tough. Mentally especially as a lot of what sustains my own mental health I found myself unable to do. However, I re-discovered things that I have not been able to do a lot of in the last years...I sketched, I listened to some audio-books and I found I really enjoy watching the local bird population attack our feeder and see what sort of birds we get in our garden. 

January 2021 is a huge milestone. One of many. 

10 years living without Patrick. 10 years of missing. 10 years wondering what he would look like now. 10 years wondering what sort of kid he would be. Would he like school? What interests would he have?

10 years living with a piece of me missing. The longest 10 years gone in the blink of an eye...

So as I look out at my heart-shaped puddle, I remember my little curly haired boy and this special bond he had with the cat. Today and always.

Keeping his memory alive against the tide of time.

Miss you lots, Sproggy-pops.

"Love is eternal, it never ends, it transforms."

This card arrived in the post today from the people at SUDC UK. Sunday April 5th would have been Patrick's 11th birthday. We had plans. Pat and Eoghan were supposed to be at a family thing in Sweden for a long weekend and I had wanted to take the baby girl down to Kerry. Go for a mini stroll, visit the sheep farm, check in on Kerry and Clare and pay their adoption fee.

2020 had other plans. Covid19 restrictions meant that we were not able to do any of those things. In fact, we were not even able to visit his grave on this birthday as it is further than 2km away from our home. Given the current situation and so many people dying without a loved one to hold their hand and family burying loved ones without the normal community support of wakes and funerals, it's what needed to be done and a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.

Were we sad about it? Absolutely...We like to make the day special. We asked one of Patrick's uncles to say HI to him at the graveyard and did what we always do also:

Everybody in this house, living or dead, gets a nicely set up breakfast table. Cake, flowers, gifts, cards. We lit his candle and ate cake for breakfast. We thought of him. We downloaded both Frozen AND Frozen 2 and watched both movies. We listened to the kids singing along to the lyrics at the top of their voices. I imagined Patrick doing some eye-rolling at that type of movie as an 11 year old. Maybe a smile at his siblings's enthusiasm singing along. Most certainly his fingers in his ears as they hit (missed!) the high notes.

What helped in no small part to make the day even more special were the many messages of remembrance and support from friends and family. Memories of Patrick they shared and birthday wishes in heaven for him. It is so important for us to see he is remembered and missed. 

💓Thank you. These messages *really* matter to us - you may never know just how much. 💓

2020 has been a strange year from the start. Weather warnings kept us inside for most of January and the start of February. A surprise pregnancy that we did not expect and that once more did not last past 9 weeks. Another tiny being lost and a grief to go with it that knocked me for six. Even more so when I realised our statistics in the reproductive department - having to repeat it a number of times to various doctors and nurses.

6th pregnancy. 3 live births. 1 sudden unexplained death in childhood at 22 months. 3 miscarriages. 2 alive and well at home (thank God!).

Why? Why not? Why us? Why not us? I don't know. All I did know what I needed time out to heal and regroup. 

I am thankful I was able to do that well before all the Covid 19 restrictions came in. I was able to do what I know soothes my soul, gives me peace and helps recharge my batteries.

Hiking. I got into the car, drove somewhere I knew would make my heart sing and walked. By myself. Coffee and picnic in my backpack. 

Each time, I came back refreshed and a little stronger. The solitude, time to be alone in my thoughts and in my self was hugely important in piecing myself back together. I took time to ground myself by letting my senses tell me what I could see, hear, feel and smell. The wonderful views. The wind in the trees, sound of waves or songs of birds. The sunshine on my face or wind or even hail. The wet forest ground...Being part of nature. I think I understand why "forest bathing" is something that is prescribed in some parts of the world. Getting out into nature is my best medicine. Sitting on the top of Torc Mountain for a good 40 minutes taking in scenery with a cup of coffee in my hand was utter bliss. I miss it now but I am grateful for the chances I got to experience it then.

Wherever our path leads us. Whether it is rocky or smooth or we're faced with the occasional river crossing. Whether it will bring another living member to this household or not. We walk on with hope. 

"Love is eternal, it never ends, it transforms."

My Hikes

Lahinch

Cliff Walk Cliffs of Moher

Millennium Cross

Moylussa

Knockfierna

Ballybunion Cliff Walk

Torc Mountain

Old Kenmare Road

Dear Sproggy - 2020

These past 12 months have been tough. For me probably the toughest since you died. Which I find difficult to understand. Perhaps though it is not about understanding. Perhaps it is about just sitting with it. Allowing it. 

You have been on my mind a lot. I've been feeling that *miss* more acutely. And the hurt and confusion. Almost as strongly as the day you died.

I guess there is no rhyme or reason to the path grief takes. We just have to follow it, without you, as best we can. 

Today we went on a really long hike along the stunning Old Kenmare Road in the Kerry National Park. 23 km with just deer, mountain goats and birds for company for most of it. Across roads, bogs, crossing rivers and streams and admiring waterfalls. My trotters are in bits now but I really liked the solitude and being present in the sights and sounds of the place. Concentrating on where to place my foot and not topple into the bog or off the bridge into the stream.

We were visited by a few little robins along the way, also. One settled down on a branch right beside Daddy. Maybe that was you saying HI to us. I'd like to think it was. Walking with us - unseen but felt in our hearts. 

You'd be proud of your little brother doing so well in his Christmas math test.You'd laugh at your little sisters antic and her offers of cake and tea from her toy kitchen. You'd look out for both of them, being the almost 11 year old big brother. You'd argue with them and roll your eyes at us. 

It's still difficult to accept that all of this got taken away from you (and us). 

9 years today, our world was still intact. We were an innocent and happy little family of three. And we knew we were lucky - all in all. I remember saying this to Daddy. Roof over our heads, healthy little boy, jobs...things were ok for us. But oh how fickle life can be.

Today, we remembered you as we hiked along that Old Kenmare Road. We saw this 19th century graffiti etched into a rockface - presumably someone from a Tipperary Regiment - dated 1815. 

James O (?) Neill(?) left his mark on the world. His name won't be forgotten. We will make sure yours won't either.

Miss you lots, Sproggy-pops

Like this tree, we try to stand strong against the wind of adversity. For you, for us, for your brother and sister.

Me and My Dad

This was Patrick's most favourite bed time story. Before too long, we were able to recite it without the book in front of us. I once used it to calm him on a flight to Germany - during landing.
It was what we recited to him the 3 nights we had him home after he died.

My Dad wakes me up
Every morning like this -
He tickles my nose and
gives me a kiss.

We go out exploring,
there's so much to see.
My Dad knows where all
the best secrets will be!

My Dad is a giant -
up here so am I!
If I stretch really hard
I can touch the sky.

We find sticky honey,
our favourite snack.
Watch my Dad run when the
bees want it back!

My Dad twirls me round
and the world whizzes past.
My head gets all dizzy,
I am spinning so fast!

If loud thunder roars
and the skies turn to grey,
My Dad keeps me safe,
Till the storm goes away.

When it's raining my Dad
plays a staying-dry trick -
To dodge all the raindrops
we have to be quick!

We race to the river
and Dad jumps straight in.
I climb on his back
and we go for a swim.

My Dad is so strong,
he can lift anything.
I hope I'm strong too when I'm
grown-up like him.

When I get sleepy,
Dad gives me a hug
And carries me home,
all cosy and snug.

My Dad tells me stories
as day turns to night.
We cuddle up close
in the twinkling light.

My Dad is the best
daddy bear there could be.
We're together for ever -
my Dad and me.

Alison Ritchie

It's upsetting to have had to pull out the book to take down the text now because I've forgotten a fair bit of it. It's upsetting to think we're forgetting. Forgetting these little details that meant and mean so much. And knowing he did not get enough of this - the hugs, the stories, the adventures, the ordinary - the time spent with his Daddy and me.

Miss you lots - Sproggy-pops.💔