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G R I E F

“Good grief!”

What is ‘good’ grief? What could possibly be good about grief? Grief by definition is intense sorrow. I watched Comic Relief tonight and there was a moment taken to remember the 1,700 and more who passed from COVID-19 in Ireland. The families and friends of over 1,700 people who were not able to fully mourn those deaths.. that intense sorrow they must have felt. That grief.

Out of sight. Not out of mind.

The grief I felt when my Dad passed is another type of grief. Looking back, I was at least able to say my goodbye – though at the age of 6, did I know we were saying goodbye to who was supposed to be a pillar of guidance throughout the rest of my life? How do you process that loss at that age? You don’t. I wonder how my Mum’s grief felt – how it feels? My brothers? Because at least for me, my grief is ever-changing and always present. Far less potent sometimes than others, absolutely. But always present.

Your absence is inconspicuous, nobody can tell what I lack.

Sylvia Plath

I had a dream recently that I found my Dad, after 18 years, wandering desert mountains. He was exploring and utterly free. And I was angry. I woke up with a tear-soaked pillow and sore eyes. I had a chance in a dream to hug him, to celebrate him, to even just see him – and I was angry. Angry at all the moments I’ve lost out on in life because of a random accident that pulled him away from us. He’s somewhere, I like to think, but he’s not here.

It’s the funniest thing that makes me particularly sad. My Dad was absolutely blown away by the very first Lord of the Rings movie. He never got to see the one after that, or after that. There are so many movies, milestones, inventions and accomplishments that he would’ve loved but doesn’t get to see. I don’t think I will ever get over how utterly unfair it is that there are all of these experiences that he will never have.

Grief. Sometimes I feel it and I want to really be allowed to feel it. Ignoring and suppressing. That seems to be my way of processing and moving on, until the next thing. But, lucky am I that I can ‘move on.’ Would I be lying when I say to you that I think about him everyday? Absolutely not. But I am by no means debilitated by it. I’m not overcome with grief when I think of that monumental loss. However, I’ve realised recently that I need to really acknowledge it and not push it down onto itself, hoping that the icy clutches of the grief shatter and melt away. This is what I’ve always done.

Sometimes the water is calm. Sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.

Vicki Harrison

I don’t know what I want to say. To be honest these thoughts are exhausting, and I miss someone that I’ve experienced majority of my life without. But – the only way out of grief is through it. I have a permanent space reserved for him, and no amount of practice covering up the hole with pretty fabrics or threads could hide it.

So, after almost 18 years of suppressing my sadness, my anger, my what-ifs and denial, I have opened up for the first time in my life and finally spoken to someone close to me to say that these feelings exist, that I feel them and I want to feel them. All out of my fear of upsetting others and worrying about how they might react when the topic of conversation turns to Dads, or my lack thereof, I have not once been true to how I’ve felt.

I’ll leave you with my incredibly late realisation: grief is a process that doesn’t necessarily end. But the ebb and flow of it becomes a part of the day-to-day in a way that I can honestly say is a reminder of the part my Dad continually plays in my life – a reminder to live life like him, as fully and openly, passionately and in love with life as he was. He has been a pillar of guidance through memory and stories. I am the person I am because of who he was. It’s not that I want to stop the feelings of grief, but to convert them. He’s not here, but he is so present. To feel grief is necessary. Acknowledging it even more so.

I’m okay, and I’m happy. I suppose that’s what you could call “good grief”.

Dear Dad, I miss you. And that’s okay.

G A L W A Y

“’Galway is the wolf of Ireland. It is fierce, sexy and carries an air of mystery.”

Aislinn Mahon

So here’s the thing – Galway? There’s nothing to it… except a world in itself.

I’m a Galway girl through and through. My grandparents were Galweigans (GAL-wee-jans), and I was born and bred here. I spent my summers out West in Connemara where the grass is, somehow, even greener, the air is as fresh as you’ll get and the people are weirder (no offense to any reading, but it is true – and that’s not a bad thing). I went to school just a walk away from the city. And the city… its maze of cobbled streets, dancing buskers with flags and banners guiding you through Latin Quarter has its own magic. You may have heard that our Emerald Isle is a welcoming place. Well, welcome to the city that epitomises it.

What we say: “Céad míle fáilte!”

How you say: “Kay-od mee-leh foyle-cha!” 

What it means: “A hundred thousand welcomes!”

Now, now – I know what you’re thinking, “Jaysus, it’s an ad campaign for Tourism Ireland”. It’s not. I’m just Galway proud. Be you from the city on the Bay or not, what everyone will tell you about Galway is that when that gorgeous yellow thing in sky is shining down on us, there is nowhere else we would rather be.

So, because you didn’t ask what I love about Galway on a sunny Saturday, here it is:

  • A stroll on the Salthill Prom. Get an iced coffee from The Creamery, because these summer mornings really are fairly toasty warm. Recently renovated, this cafe is halfway along the Prom walk starting from the Blackrock diving tower – it’s yellow, you can’t miss it. Leave your car where it is (free parking, woo!). Grab a friend, or don’t, and do this walk first thing in the morning, taking a moment to watch the daily dedicated swimmers take their morning dip in the Bay. Then, follow the water and walk right into the Claddagh in town.
  • Breakfast in Dela. It’s a classic, offering a fun aesthetic interior, lovely staff and a stunning mimosa to wash down the eggs benedict (“Can I get some bacon on the side please, and a flat white – thanks!”). Take your time, but not too much time, because next up – the Latin Quarter!
  • Wander through Quay Street. This street is a gem, and the only way to appreciate it is to wander. And when I say wander, I mean go into the Aran Sweater Market to try on a Paddy cap and appreciate all three-storeys of the building and its wooden beams. Pop into Coffeewerk & Press and flick through the hardback books, selection of coffees and look down onto the street from a higher perspective in the perch by the window (like me and Mum did as per our selfie below). Look around the Wooden Heart and appreciate the simple and wholesome wooden toys. Then make your way up the bustling street.
  • Deviate off of the main street. The charm in Galway is its little lanes – speaking of, stop in Little Lane, my favourite little coffee shop for a takeaway cuppa and a slice of Banana Bread (or a slice of Heaven, depending on who you speak to). Mosey on to Charlie Byrne’s bookshop – whether you think you’ll like it or not, the charm in this place will make your heart burst. It’s a quaint maze and as rustic a bookshop you will ever come across with amazingly informed staff. Just go in with the aim of looking for your favourite book. It’s a decent wander, trust me.
  • Walk the Canals and find the Cathedral. Distinctively Galway, are the canals. From Spanish Arch, take a leisurely stroll up the canals, following the river where you will meet the sun-bathers and the ducks. The Cathedral is worth a visit if you’ve time, if for nothing else than the feeling of feeling small and appreciating the echo inside. This Cathedral isn’t all that old, but nevertheless, be you religious or not, commands respect from inside its domes.
  • Lunch in Dough Bros. These lads know good pizza. And are super friendly to boot – pop in and order from a great menu of stonebaked pizzas. As cute as the restaurant is, take it to go and head down to…
  • Middle Arch & The West End. And on a sunny day, this means grabbing a few beers, sitting out with the eclectic mix of people Galway has to offer and enjoying the sunshine while watching the River Corrib flow by. As the day moves to evening, the West End springs to life. Known as a more hipster spot, it’s worth noting that the Roisín Dubh has been home to some big names for gigs over the years and home to the occasional summer Silent Disco Street Party – and yes, that is as cool as it sounds.
  • Explore Traditional Pubs and end up in Supermacs like the rest of us. Take your pick of the endless list of pubs. To name a few: The Quays, The Kings Head and the Skeff for traditional on a big scale. Tigh Nechtains or Tigh Chóilí (Tigh: house) for a more cosy spot. An Púcan, O’Connell’s and Murty Rabbits for great and aesthetic beer gardens. Regardless of where you go, you will end up following the masses when the pubs close at 2am for a Snack Box or a Pizza down at Supermacs or Pizza Napolis (sold by the slice!).

My ideal day isn’t everyone’s ideal day, but sure isn’t that why there are thousands of other “How to spend a day in Galway” type blog posts out there. If anyone wants to tell Coronavirus to simmer down, I’ll meet ye at the pub for a pint.