Tonight, on the radio, a concert. Serendipitous Christmas lullays. Unconscionably lovely, the music soothes my breaking heart. Outside, cars swish on the wet road, people caught up in the crazy to and fro of the time of year. My cat is by my side; we listen together to the singing, to the traffic, to one another’s heartbeat.Read More
It’s been nearly two years now… And yet it feels like yesterday to me.Read More
Sitting in a hospital room is always a ghastly experience; everything right down to the smell seems designed to cause as much discomfort as possible. Today though, it seems so much more nauseating. I would get sick but it would take more effort than I could ever hope to muster.
I suppose for you to understand why I hate hospitals so much we have to go back to my childhood. I know that’s a cliché but clichés exist for a reason, there is always a certain truth to them. I had two loving parents and a younger sister. Like most Irish kids of the 1980s I was raised in a “Catholic” household, although mass was reserved for Christmas and funerals only. Today the Christmases seem to all merge together but it’s the funerals I’ll never forget.