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After death of a spouse, Aging, Being a Widow, Bellaghy, Castledawson, Death and dying, Dennis O'Driscoll, Derry, Dispatch from the Diaspora, FInal wishes, Funeral, Grieving, Keeping Going, Loss, Love, Memoir, Milestones, Mourning, Northern Ireland, Northern Ireland Culture, Postscript, Rituals, Seamus Heaney
P.S. Seamus Heaney and a Grave Situation
When I returned to Bellaghy this summer, I visited Seamus Heaney's grave again. This time, a simple wooden cross stood in the dirt. This time, I was a widow, changed and contemplative, convinced that cosmic strings keep us connected. This time, I wondered about the spiritual space in which both men might move. Where are they?
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Arizona Humane Society, Chihuahuas, Dog Rescue, Dogs, Door into the Dark, Greyhound, Loss, Love, Mary Oliver, Memoir, Rites of passage, Seamus Heaney, Starting over, The Midnight Anvil
for national dog day – an emotional rescue
A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know almost nothing.” ― Mary Oliver, Dog Songs First there was Molly, a retired racer who loved me. We had rescued her in the Christmas of 2008, on the heels of a spectacular crisis in my professional life,…
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Act Two, Aging, Being a Widow, Birthdays, Breast Cancer Advocacy, Breast Cancer Treatment, Castledawson, Coming of age, Death and dying, Dying, Family, Fatherless daughters, FInal wishes, First birthday without him, Funerals, Great Advice, Grieving, Loss, Love, Marriage, Memoir, Mourning, Northern Ireland, Poetry, Robin Williams, saying goodbye, Thanksgiving, Themes of Childhood, Tommy Edwards, W.H. Auden, Wedding Anniversary
Remembering Ken on our 25th ‘Anniversary’
Twelve days after Ken died, I wrote this post. I haven’t read it since, and I’m not going to read it tonight. Somewhere in the middle of the grief-stricken ramblings, I remember is a pure – and good – memory of this day twenty five years ago – January 13, 1990 – the day when Ken and I embarked on what we both knew…
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A Poem for Michael and Christopher, After death of a spouse, Aging, Anahorish, Art, Bellaghy, Coming of age, Death and dying, Door into the Dark, Family, Fathers and sons, Loss, Memoir, Northern Ireland Culture, Personal Helicon, Poetry, Seamus Heaney, Soundtracks of our Lives, The Forge, Writing
walking round a space without seamus heaney
I thought of walking round and round a space Utterly empty, utterly a source Where the decked chestnut tree had lost its place In our front hedge above the wallflowers. It’s been a year, and it is still strange to type the words. Seamus Heaney is dead. There is still no way for me to convey the inestimable impact of…
