I didn't say much about my hopes and dreams at first, because they still need a lot of sorting out, and I didn't want to worry you about all my doubts and inner turmoil. However, when we were alone, you told me you knew I was worrying about something regarding my life, other than yourself. You said that if I didn't share it with you, you'd worry anyway, and might even imagine it was something worse. I thank you for that now. You were such a comfort.
It was really hard at first. I didn't know how to begin to tell you how I thought I was breaking my vows by loving Assumpta. I explained to you how I'd felt about her for three years. I described how I sensed her presence, even when she was a long distance away, and how I knew she'd entered the room, even when my back was towards the door. You understood this. I told you how when our eyes met, I would sometimes feel weak in the knees, and how I couldn't sleep at night, thinking about her.
You understood the conflict over my vocation and the vows I'd made six years ago, You gave me such comfort, when I was agonising over what I should do. Trained as a priest, I've promised that I would dedicate my life to doing God's work, going where I'm most needed. I agonised over how I felt I was breaking these vows I'd made.
Recognising my love for Assumpta, you reassured me that love is never wrong. "True love," you said, "is perfect, and comes from God. God is love." You told me I wasn't to be ashamed of my love for Assumpta, and that loving someone wasn't breaking my vows. You went on to explain that the vows I made six years ago, in all sincerity then, were for then. That now, I'd matured, and had lived in a different world, and things had changed, when I'd met Assumpta. You told me to read 1 John 4 :7 - 17, in my Bible, to be assured that to love, is never wrong. You said that I should keep on praying and ask God to guide me in my decisions. You promised that you'd pray for me too.
I did analyse my feelings for Assumpta, and I know that I love her so much that I'd give my life for her. I want to do what is right for her, but I also want to do what is right in the eyes of God. I told you that Assumpta was legally married, but it seems that it wasn't working out. We were both in agreement that it was wrong for me to come between them in any way. I still feel, as I told you then, that what I really want is for Assumpta to be happy. I know she's had a lot of sorrow and hardship in her life. You warned me that the next weeks were not going to be easy, but that I should pray for guidance. You reminded me that God has promised us that He hears our prayers and will answer them in his own time. So I'll just have to be patient, and wait for His direction.
You pointed out that a good priest cares for others, but that I could serve God just as well outside the priesthood. "There are people hurting everywhere," you said, "who need help and comfort, and you don't need to be a priest to make a difference." You put your arms around me, and I lay my head on your frail shoulder. The years dropped away, and I felt as if I was a small child again, with the simple trusting faith of a child. I knew that I was loved, and that at the right time I'd know what to do. You said that you'd watch over us always, and to remember that if an action was carried out in love, it couldn't be wrong.
Now you're gone. Steve's out making the funeral arrangements, and I'm
really grateful to leave it all to him. Father Randall is going to say
the mass. It seems strangely quiet here at the moment. Home alone with
my thoughts. I'm going to miss you something awful, but I'll continue writing
in my journal, as if I'm talking to you. It's a way of holding on to you.
If spoken prayer
is conversation with God, then writing in my diary is conversing with
you, Mum.
This journal has been a help over the last three years. I reread my
first pages yesterday, and I realise how much I've got to know and love
those BallyK friends in that time. They were strangers then, but now they're
very dear friends.
Phyllis knew that you were sick, so phoned to see how you were. I had to tell her that you passed away yesterday. She was sorry that she'd missed you, and explained that she wouldn't be able to get over to England for the funeral, but she's coming over later this year, because John has a conference in Europe somewhere. We had a nice chat about you and the last years. She invited Steve and I to come to Australia at any time and stay with them. I felt that she really meant it, and if circumstances were any different I'd have liked to take her up on her offer.
Steve and I remember meeting Phyllis and John once or twice when we were younger and they came to visit us. I know you would've liked to go to Australia, but you were never confident to do it on your own. When Dad was alive there wasn't the money for all of us to go, and Dad didn't really want to go either. Mum you never considered leaving us, to go on your own. I hope you haven't regretted it.
I felt so much less lonely and restless after talking to her. Its weird how a nearly complete stranger can have that sort of effect on you. I know that you're in good hands now, and died proudly believing that Steve and I are growing up in the way you and Dad would've liked us to. I'll do my best not to let you down.
I wonder how Assumpta is going? Niamh sent her off to try to reconcile
with Leo, and rescue their marriage. I should really hope that it works,
but deep in my heart I know that I would like Assumpta to come back home
to BallyK, choosing to be single again. That way we might be able to enjoy
the friendship we had before Leo came on the scene. I know that I shouldn't
dream of things like that. I just hope that what ever happens, she'll
be happy.
I've got the radio on for company at the moment, and they just played an old Petula Clark song from the sixties, called "My Love". I felt it echoed my thoughts exactly. I'm sure you remember the song, the words of the chorus go:
My love is warmer than the warmest sunshine, softer than a sigh.
My love is deeper than the deepest ocean, wider than the sky.
My love is brighter than the brightest star that shines every night
above,
And there is nothing in this world that can ever change my love.
It was a very catchy tune, uplifting and it really made me feel good. It's weird actually, because it's not something I'd normally have chosen to listen to. The first verse could echo my story too. It goes:
Something happened to my heart the day that I met you, I thought of
the day I arrived in BK.
Something that I'd never felt before. very true
You are always on my mind, no matter what I do,
And every day it seems I want you more. So true
The start of the second verse also describes my circumstance:
Once I thought that love was meant for anyone else but me, I also thought
of Siobhan, expecting a baby.
Once I thought you'd never go my way. Is the next bit prophetic? I
hope so.
Now it only goes to show how wrong we all can be,
For now I have to tell you every day.
I know I owe it to both of us to have an honest talk about how
I feel. I've decided to talk to Assumpta when I get back to Ireland, and
tell her how I feel about her.
Your sister Jean organized some tea and coffee at her house after the burial. It was good to catch up with some of the more far flung members of the family. Its just a pity that it has to be a funeral to bring everyone together. Why can't we get together on more happier occasions? Like a wedding perhaps?
Maybe Stephen will get married soon. He and D are terrific together; but their wedding would have to be a very closely kept secret. With the way the media has been hassling him lately, he just wouldn't be able to invite the whole family, as the secret would be sure to get out. Thank goodness the funeral today didn't become a media circus like we'd feared.
I looked at Steve and D together, and felt envious of their love. She's such a support for him, and she's made him so happy. I wondered what Assumpta would've thought of this family? I think that they'd have liked her; if I'd been free and introduced her as my fiancée. I have to stop thinking along these lines. I suppose the bar at Fitzgerald's is busy at the moment, with all the regulars sitting around telling jokes or teasing each other. I really miss their company.
Tomorrow Steve and I are going to start sorting through all the things
that are left. We're thankful that when you first became sick you sorted
out so much. I wonder if we really work at it, if we can get it done sooner,
so we get back to work, and get over these depressing thoughts. I mustn't
kid myself; its not my work I'm anxious to get back to, but to see a certain
person. To see her toss that mane of lovely brown hair, see a flash of
those sparkly eyes, and listen to her unique brand of wit. Don't get me
wrong, I do enjoy my work in BK, but there's more than my work pulling
me back to Ireland at the moment.
I thought as I was reading it, how much it paralleled my feelings for Assumpta, and how I wished that I could be contemplating a life in which we could be together. What of course is stopping this, are two things. Firstly I don't know what Assumpta's feelings for me are, and secondly I've made vows that preclude such things. Two things I have to sort out as soon as I get back.
When my relationship with Jenny became difficult, I ran away, and hurt
her badly. If I'd been honest with her, and told her how I felt, and why
I was leaving England, a lot of hurt could've been avoided. I know I have
to talk to Assumpta and tell her how I feel. I don't know what will happen,
but if I'm honest and open with her, may be we can at least be friends,
and understand each other better. I'd like that.
I can't wait to see them all again, and one person in particular. But
I can't show my feelings openly. Jenny predicted that there'd be a next
time, but this time it's so different. This time it's me that wants something
to happen, but I'm not sure what. I've decided to talk to Assumpta as soon
as I get the chance, so that should bring this strange situation of not
knowing, to an end, one way or another.
They were all eating some Thai food that Assumpta was trying out, to inspire entries in a Chinese Food Fair, that's being held on Saturday. Brian's latest enterprise is opening a Chinese Restaurant in BallyK, just a few shops up from the pub.
Assumpta seems to be having some trouble with her fuses, and all the lights went out. She went down into the cellar to fix it, and Brendan suggested I should go down to help her. I don't know why he volunteered me, but I happily went down to see if I could help.
She dropped the fuse onto the floor, so the cellar was also thrown into darkness. While we were crawling around on our knees feeling for the dropped fuse, we bumped together. We were so close I could feel her breathing. I was trembling so much, Assumpta felt it and commented on my shaking. The desire to take her into my arms was so strong, it was painful to hold myself in check. It was impossible anyway, within a minute all the others were in there too; a bit crowded I must say. I told her that I needed to talk to her later, and she agreed.
Ambrose chose that moment to do a raid on after hours drinking. We tried
to protest that it was a private party, but he didn't believe us. It was
a strange ending to my first night home. I'm tired now, so I'll leave my
journal here, and just repeat how good it is to be back.
Only a few hours later Ambrose asked me to baby sit. The audacity of the man is just unbelievable. I agreed to do it as Kieran's really no trouble. Anyway their kitchen is bigger than mine, so I could prepare my entry for the food fair at the same time.
Assumpta arrived only minutes after Niamh and Ambrose had left. It seems that she was asked too, but refused. Later she felt that she couldn't let Niamh down, so came anyway. I felt so nervous when I realized that we were alone together, and this was my opportunity to talk to her as I'd decided to do last week. I tried to keep the atmosphere light by telling some party jokes. It didn't work. I was feeling choked up with so many conflicting emotions. Your death, getting back home, confusion about my vocation and now seeing Assumpta again, I just couldn't pull myself together. But I knew this was the best opportunity I'd have to talk to her and tell her how I felt. I just didn't know how to start.
I tried to let Assumpta know how confused I was about her, and being
a priest, by telling her a joke about a baby polar bear who's not sure
he really is a polar bear. I'm not sure she understood what I was trying
to say.
"Why am I always thinking of you?" I blurted out. I couldn't stop myself.
I tried to choke back my tears, but they just wouldn't be held back any
longer. I felt totally out of control, but Assumpta understood my need.
She opened up her arms to me.
"Peter, come here", she said gently, and held me in her arms. All the
emotions of the last weeks, losing you, everything came out, and I just
sobbed on her shoulder. Then the fragrance of her perfume started to penetrate
my senses. Suddenly I found myself kissing her neck. I felt I could've
devoured her at that moment. I couldn't stop myself, and I sensed her starting
to respond. I don't know how it would've ended, but suddenly she stiffened
and pulled away.
"It's not right," she said. We were both trying to catch our breath and fighting for control. She reached for her coat and ran out of the door. I couldn't go after her. I had Kieran to mind, but even if I did, what would I say??? - make a public spectacle of myself?? I knew that I'd have to talk to her, but not yet. I have to figure out what to do first. I want her so much, but as she said, its not right. I forced myself to calm down, and went into the bathroom to wash my face with cold water to bring me back to my senses. I managed to finish the Chinese dishes for the food fair, but my mind wasn't really on the job.
My timing was very good however, because Kieran woke up just as I was
wiping the last of the dishes. He's such a darling little boy. I tried
to imagine what it would be like to have a child. In my dreams I picture
a little girl with reddish brown hair, large dark flashing eyes and a mischievous
smile. It makes me weak in the knees just thinking about it. Niamh and
Ambrose arrived home not long after Kieran woke. I hurried home, intending
to have a quick wash and get to bed to think about what I was
going to say tomorrow. But this wasn't to be. I was to have two visitors
before I could do that.
Within minutes of getting home, Assumpta was on my doorstep. She was very angry. In fact she was furious, and her eyes were flashing dangerously. I supposed I deserved it, but she took me by surprise.
"Well" she said, and waited for my answer. I was lost for words.
"Well, what?" I asked "What do you want me to say?"
"What Do You Want?" she demanded of me. I looked
her in the eye.
"Its not that simple", I tried to explain as calmly as I could.
"It IS that simple" she declared emphatically.
"Not from where I'm standing."
"Oh, for God's sake Peter, we've moved on," she declared
"I'm a Catholic Priest," I said weakly
"It goes with the territory," she replied.
"Cheap shot," I threw back at her.
"It's the truth. You and Me, it's the truth," she came back at me.
I realised that this was not the talk I'd been planning.
"Assumpta" I pleaded
"Yes?" She looked at me and waited. Her eyes were bright and flashed
angrily. Then she sighed when I didn't reply.
"You know what you're going to do now," she looked at me in exasperation.
"You're going to discuss this in a box, with a grown man in a frock, and
you won't talk to me." She has the knack of making some of the church's
rituals seem ridiculous, even to me.
"I will," I tried to assure her. "I just need to think."
"Its not what's in your head I need to hear." She said and stormed
out. She was nearly knocked over by Brian Quigley's car as he drove past.
He came in to inquire what was going on.
"Just a misunderstanding," I tried to shrug it off lightly. Brian hinted
that he knew what was going on, and if something was going to happen, he
wanted to know about it. When I looked puzzled, and started to pretend
that I had no idea what he was talking about, he just said something about
not kidding a kidder.
I'm completely bewildered. If Brian's guessed what's going on, who else knows how I feel about Assumpta Fitzgerald. I don't feel very comfortable about the whole situation. It's completely out of control. I'm a priest, and priests don't have close relationships with women in the parish, nor anywhere else for that matter.
Do I still want to be a priest? At present I'm not sure that I do. Am
I prepared to break these vows? I don't know. I don't even know what Assumpta
thinks about the situation. I know I have to talk to her somehow. I want
to do what's right. I want to know what God wants me to do, but He's not
giving me a clear message.
Maybe you already know this as you watch over me, but I'll record the events of June 27 chronologically, so it'll make sense to you if you don't. Three weeks ago I never thought I could write down my thoughts and experiences again. But I know writing it down may ease the pain, and help me move on in my journey through life. I'll never be the same person again. But I think God is telling me that life for me must go on, and I have to pick up the threads now and get on with it, as you and Dad would have expected of me. My first step is to record the happiest moments of my life, then followed by the worst.
That fateful day started with our early morning appearance in court, in Cilldargan. Padraig picked us up in his minibus, Assumpta was the last. She didn't look at me as she got in. I could sense the tension in the air and felt the others looking at us. I could feel Kathleen's eyes boring a hole right through the back of my neck. At one stage I risked a quick glance across towards Assumpta, but she looked tense, sitting very still, and staring straight in front of her. I knew we had to talk, and I had to tell her how I felt, but I still didn't know what we were going to do after that. The opportunity to talk came straight after the court case, which was dismissed by the way, thanks to Padraig's ingenuity to produce empty drink cans bought from Kathleen's shop. Ambrose agreed that these might have been what we were drinking that night. Immediately the court case was finished, Assumpta slipped away alone, and I followed her into the side street. She agreed to go for a walk with me along the lake. At the time I thought it was the most beautiful place on earth.
I didn't know how to start, and after some silence I asked her, "Where
did it all go wrong?"
"Well it hasn't yet," she pointed out. I wasn't feeling very confident.
"It will though, won't it?" I said, pessimistically
"I don't know Peter, I don't know what you want," she replied.
"I'd like some sleep," I said. I realized that was not really answering
her question. I knew that I had to speak the truth. "I want to do the right
thing" I added more honestly.
"By who?" she asked
"By you." I paused. "By the church."
"Well that's not possible," she pointed out.
"I'm not saying it isn't. I'm just trying to tell you what I want."
I tried to explain.
"Well that's not an answer," she said "You can't love us both." She
stopped. "I'm sorry, that's stupid.
"It wasn't, it really wasn't," I tried to reassure her, and turned
around to face to face her.
"You must know how I feel about you?" I asked with a self conscious
smile.
I'd finally said it. I was finally able to start to tell her how I felt
about her. She looked at me in surprise.
"How would I know that?" she asked. Now I was amazed.
"Assumpta, are you serious?" I was astounded. I suddenly found the
courage to tell her what I'd kept bottled up for so long. I took a deep
breath. "I think about you every minute of every day." I continued on,
gaining in confidence. "Its like I am working on autopilot. I take a wedding,
or a funeral. I hear confession, I say mass; I say the words,
but its you I'm thinking of. I can't sleep because you keep
me awake. Am I getting through to you?" I looked at her, trying to
read her thoughts. "But apart from that, you mean nothing to me." I shrugged
nonchalantly, risking a smile.
Assumpta was visibly taken back. "Peter, I had no idea." She said.
"Assumpta, dogs on the street knew." I replied. Her next words were
like a kick in the gut.
"Do you think I'd have got married if I knew how you felt?" she asked.
I felt sick, deep in my stomach. How I wished we could turn back the
clock. I looked at her sadly.
"Weird isn't it, how something can sound so exhilarating and so depressing
at the same time." I said as I reached towards her.
I took her in my arms and kissed the top of her head. I ran my fingers
through her beautiful hair and just enjoyed the peace of our surroundings.
I breathed in deeply of the unique fragrance of the perfume she wears.
The lake was crystal clear and still as a mirror. We just held each other
in silence. I felt so blissfully happy. I wished that time would just stand
still and we could stand locked in each other's arms forever. Unfortunately
the real world, with all its unresolved problems and responsibilities
called, and we had a bus to catch, if we were to get back to BallyK
in time to get ready for the food fair.
Sitting in the bus we were very conscious of the people around us. What would they think if they knew that we were a Catholic priest and a married woman contemplating a permanent relationship together?
When we got back to BK, Assumpta had to start getting ready for the food fair. I went to the church to pray, and seek an answer as to what I should do. Should I give up the priesthood, the only thing I'd ever trained for, and ask Assumpta to marry me? Should I keep my vows and leave BallyK, and allow Assumpta to get on with her life? Did I have the courage to do it?
When I got up I found Fr. Mac waiting for me. He asked me how I was. He knew that I was at a crossroads in my life, and was looking for a decision. He grudgingly almost said that he thought I was a good priest, even if my way was different to his. He obviously didn't understand the depth of my feelings for Assumpta. He implied that it was only a passing infatuation that I'd get over in time. He suggested that it would happen again and again. He told me that there were Assumpta Fitzgeralds all over Ireland.
Thanks to Fr. Mac's words I suddenly had the answer to my prayers. I finally knew for sure what I had to do. There was only one Assumpta, and I didn't want to lose her. I realised that she was more important to me than anything else, including my vocation. I decided to go to the pub and tell her straight away.
The pub was full of people helping set up for the food fair. I knew
there was no way I could have a private word with her, so I walked to the
public phone box and rang her. I told her that I wanted her in my life,
and that I was prepared to do whatever it takes.
"Will I have to go to church?" she asked jokingly. I smiled. I persuaded
her to meet me by the river if she could get away for a short while.
Once I'd made my decision to give up the priesthood, I couldn't understand why it had taken me so long to do so. I couldn't believe that it was really happening. I was so fantastically happy, and I felt as if my soul had wings. It was as if I'd been carrying a heavy burden that had suddenly been lifted off my shoulders.
"What am I going to do for a living?" I asked Assumpta cheerfully, as
it dawned on me that I was losing my job.
"Well, you can forget Pope for a start." She said playfully.
"I don't suppose there's anything going at your place?" I asked.
We joked about it, but we really didn't have much time to come to any
decisions as Assumpta had to get back to the pub. It was just starting
to dawn on us what a big step it was for us both. We tried to keep it light
hearted, but we were both wondering how the rest of the village was going
to react when they found out.
I asked Assumpta if she didn't want to hang out for a bishop, instead
of a humble curate. It was actually the last time we were alone together.
We were so happy, snatching a few moments alone, planning a future together;
and now she's gone. Why did God take her? The most precious thing in my
life. I thought I'd finally found what I had been seeking all my adult
life, only to
have it taken from me. I feel cheated that we'd only had a few hours
together like this.
I must get on and finish this. I want to record every minute and every conversation while it's still fresh in my mind. At the food fair it seemed that every person except me had used Brian's chef Shamie to cook their entry. So I was the winner of the cup by default. Maybe this was a good thing, because I couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear, no matter how hard I tried to hide my joy. Brendan commented on this, but assumed it was because I'd won the cup that I looked so happy. Little did he know.
I called Assumpta over to one side. "I love You," I said. It was wonderful
to be able to say those words to her.
"Would you take that thing off before you say things like that." She
grinned, pointing to my dog collar.
"I can't help it," I said. I couldn't stop smiling and my head felt
as if I'd had too much to drink.
"I know," she replied.
It's the last thing we ever said to each other. A few minutes later she went down into the cellar to fix the fuses again. She died instantly. Michael and Brendan gave her CPR, but couldn't revive her. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless. I'm not going to say anymore about this because it is just too painful to relive. I'll never forget her lying there so still and lifeless. It was absolutely the worst time of my life. I just sobbed. I felt completely devastated, and didn't care who knew.
Father Mac insisted I give Assumpta the sacrament of the last rites. I knew that Assumpta had stated specifically three years ago that she didn't want it, and I was prepared to respect her wishes. However, I was forced into it by Fr. Mac, backed up by Brendan and Naimh. Now in hindsight I'm glad that I did. If I hadn't, I might regret it later in my life. Maybe it doesn't matter. Many people die alone, and I'm sure God accepts their immortal soul anyway. But by giving Assumpta the sacrament, I made the others happy, and that was important too. Assumpta may even have changed her mind in recent years. She felt differently about a lot of things - like me for example. I'm sure if she was watching me, she'd have forgiven me for 'doing it anyway'. I can still hear her saying those words. She was a very special lady.
I'm not going to dwell on the aftermath in BallyK. Much of it's a blur that I can't remember clearly anyway. Leo came back, and we had a punch-up like a pair of kids. I hope he's OK. He loved her too, but he lost her months ago. He probably never even had her. Maybe that hurts even more. At least I know she was happy when she died. You know, she never really told me that she loved me. She implied it, but never actually said the words. We never really kissed either. There's so much that we needed to say, but were just not given the time. I feel it's so unfair.
She looked so cold and still lying in the morgue. It wasn't my warm
smiling Assumpta with her quick tongue. I knew she'd gone. There was no
point in hanging around. I wonder if she can see me now? I wonder if you
and she have met? Somehow I think you'd like each other. The two most important
people in my life, and both have been taken from me within a few weeks
of each other, Why? I wish I knew. Does it mean that I'm being told to
continue as a priest? I don't think so. I couldn't do any priest things
at the moment, the way I feel. Any decision to return is a long time off
at present. I feel very angry with God. After all the years of devoted
service I've given to the church, He gives Assumpta to me, then a few hours
later she's taken from me. It's so unfair, losing you and Assumpta at the
same time. Everyone in the village was stunned and hurting after Assumpta's
sudden death. I realised that many people were looking to me to do something
to help them in their grief, and yet my pain must've been worse than anyone
else's. I found it impossible to help them when I'd lost my reason for
living. I decided to call all her closest friends to gather together on
the hills above the village. To me it was also saying goodbye. Goodbye
to Assumpta and the life we might have had together, goodbye to all those
dear friends I'd made in those three years, goodbye to Ballyk; and for
the
present at least, goodbye to my vocation. I'd made up my mind to leave,
because I couldn't face seeing the places where we'd been so happy. When
I threw away my dog collar in the river, I knew I wouldn't be going back
to the priesthood, at least not for a long time. I had too many things
I needed to think out. At the wake up in hills for Assumpta, I wasn't able
to say much. I couldn't think of anything clever or uplifting to say. I
think they all understood.
Niamh wouldn't let me off without doing Kieran's christening. I was definitely running on autopilot that day. I put on my vestments for the last time and just went through the motions of the baptism, but my mind was on other things. I've had lots of practice working like an automat lately. It was probably a good thing that I was forced to do it, because it kept me together for those first days after I'd lost Assumpta. I packed up all my things before the service, and planned to leave immediately afterwards. I didn't want to say goodbye, as it would've been too painful. I'll write to them one day, when I have my life together again, and know what I'm doing.
I decided to walk. I needed time to think and sort my life out. If I'd driven, I wouldn't have known where to go. The weather was glorious, as I looked back at the village in which I'd experienced so much. I knew I'd changed. I've grown up so much in the last three years, and especially in the last few weeks. I'm a very different person now to the young naïve priest who arrived in BallyK three years ago. And yet I knew even then, that I had a lot of growing up still to do. BallyK wasn't home anymore. I had no home.
That first day I walked and walked. I'd packed my lunch knowing I wanted
to walk until I dropped. I thought about life and death and what I believed
in, regarding life after physical death. I'm not sure anymore. I suppose
I wouldn't be writing this diary to you, if I didn't believe that our spirit
goes on after our physical death. I walked in a roughly north westerly
direction, breathing in the fresh summer air, and allowing the beauty of
my surroundings to slowly calm me.
One of the things I've been thinking about over the last few days is
how I handle my problems. I've come to the conclusion that I'm not a very
good communicator when it comes to my own emotions. I'm OK when it comes
to helping other people who come to me with their problems. I can usually
help them to see what their options are, and guide them to make a decision
that's
right for them. It just seems to be different when its me that has
the problem.
In Jenny's case as I've said before, I should've been honest, and admitted to her that I needed to move on. It would've prevented a lot of hurt for her. I ran away and didn't face up to the situation. Although in leaving BallyK, this time I'm trying to face up to life.
With Assumpta it was more difficult. I was the one who wanted something
to happen. I loved her, but held back, knowing that it was wrong, with
respect to my vows. I wasn't free to allow something to happen. Maybe I
should've talked to her after the Badger Wood conversation. At least I
should've told her how I felt, and asked her what she wanted. It was after
this that she
married Leo. So maybe if I'd talked to her then, she wouldn't have
made that mistake, and hurt Leo.
Assumpta gave me the chance to share my problems when she came to talk to me in the church, the night when I didn't have any home. But I gave her the impression it was her women's group that was the problem. Another opportunity I lost was when she wanted to talk one night in the pub last year. She asked me if I'd ever wanted something I couldn't have. I ran off with an excuse about doing mass next day, instead of talking. I had the chance on a number of occasions, but didn't have the courage to open up. "Priests don't have those sort of friends", I said, but I believe now that they should have, the same as every other person. Everyone needs a good friend they can trust, and until I find such a person, you my dear diary (Mum), are it.
A priest learns to keep his innermost thought to himself. The church
expects that he must always be seen to be in control and doing the right
thing. A super human, setting a good example so that he doesn't lead any
of his flock astray. They ask the impossible, and that's why things go
wrong. I'm glad that I'm now free from these unrealistic expectations.
I have to learn to
make my own decisions, to take risks in life, and be more open regarding
my feelings. I think I'm going to enjoy it when I get used to the freedom.
I think I've made the decision not to go back to the priesthood, at least
not for a long while.
The first day I walked until it was almost dark, then took shelter in a hayshed. In the morning, like Siobhan I woke up amongst the sheep. Unlike Siobhan, I wasn't drunk, but I felt desperately sad, like I've never felt before. I knew I had to get up and keep walking. Anyway, there was nothing else to do if I didn't want to join the sheep, or be found by an irate farmer. If I'd had access to strong drink I think I would've tried to drink myself into oblivion, and drown my sorrows.
I walked for most of the day, but I was conscious of my disheveled appearance. I knew I'd have to clean myself up a bit. I couldn't face going into a pub and meeting people, so found a B&B. Luckily hikers are expected to look tired and messy, and the landlady didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. Thankfully she wasn't the chatty sort, and was happy to let me go to bed early.
That night I slept the deep sleep of the exhausted. I had the best sleep that I'd had in weeks. Better than in all those weeks leading up to your death and afterwards. Next morning I felt physically refreshed, but still emotionally depressed and confused. I still didn't have any clear idea where I was going. So I packed my rucksack and took off again. I decided to just keep on walking, using the sun as my guide so I didn't go in circles. I bought a map of the walking trails in one village, and found that I had covered a lot of Wicklow County.
I knew that I'd have to stop walking and make some decisions about the future at some stage, but I wasn't ready yet. Thankfully the money you left us meant that lack of money wasn't a problem. I could've walked around Ireland for a year and not have needed to get a job. Some nights when it was fine I crept into a barn, other nights when I felt like it or the weather was bad, I took a took a room.
I thought a lot about Assumpta, and what might have been. Sometimes I let myself imagine the reactions of our friends if we'd been able to announce our love for each other. I think after their initial shock, they would've been very supportive. I think for a few it may not have come as big a shock. I think Brendan had already guessed how I felt about Assumpta, and Brian certainly implied that he knew something was going on.
Niamh's reaction wouldn't be predictable. She really loved Assumpta, and wanted her to be as happy as she was. But she could also be very puritanical when it came to the church. I'm sure she wouldn't have approved of Assumpta (a married woman) getting together in a relationship with me (a priest). It might've been interesting to watch her reaction, and the conflict she would've experienced, when we told her.
I never did find out why Assumpta was so against the church and so anti
priests. We never actually got to talk about the things that really mattered.
There was so much we could've shared. I'd have loved to have children with
her. In my mind's eye I see a baby daughter with dark brown curls, big
flashy eyes and a quick mischievous smile. I wondered what it would've
been like to marry, to be a husband and a father. I think I would've liked
that. Those times when I let myself think about what might have been, usually
ended up in tears. There was no-one to see me, so I just let them flow.
After such an evening, I usually slept very soundly, without remembering
any dreams.
When it became dark, I made myself comfortable in this haystack. It was a fairly mild night, and the sky was absolutely clear. Millions of stars were visible and twinkled brightly. I was looking to see if I could find Saturn, because it should be visible in the late evenings at present, and with its magnificent rings front on, should be fairly bright. As I was looking at the stars, I was thinking how the patterns they formed had hardly changed in thousands of years, and yet my life had been completely turned upside down, twice, on that fateful day less than a month ago.
All the stars were still in the same places, as if nothing had happened. I could see Antares, the bright star in the centre of Scorpio, low on the horizon. I was feeling sad and despondent as I watched the stars slowly turning around the North Celestial Pole. It's an extension of the Earth's axis in space, and the point about which all the stars seem to rotate. I don't think I'd fallen asleep. It seemed to be the next moment, when what looked like tunnel of bright light suddenly appeared, and lit up the haystack where I was. I seemed to be moving towards me, dazzling me. For some inexplicable reason I wasn't at all frightened. Gradually I saw it was Assumpta in the centre of the light. She was smiling at me, looking absolutely radiant, and holding her arms out to me. I sensed her inviting me into her arms; "Come here, Peter." It felt the same as it had at Niamh's house, when I was so upset. She stepped out of the light towards me, and looked simply ethereal. I felt myself move towards her, it was like floating. I don't remember actually getting out of my sleeping bag, but next moment I was enclosed in her arms. She felt real, warm and solid; and I could smell the distinctive perfume she always wore.
"What are you doing here?" I asked her "You're meant to be dead, but
you look so good."
"I'm fine, Peter," she said lovingly. "I had to come back to let you
know I'm OK, and to tell you that you have to move on. We've all been so
worried about you. You mustn't grieve for us like this any more, we're
all OK, but you've got things to do. You have to move on."
I felt comforted by her love as she held me close and caressed my face. I sensed her joy and absolute happiness. I looked into her eyes and could read the love in them; far greater than I'd ever experienced before. She'd never actually told me that she loved me before, but now it was as if she was saying 'I love you' but with a thousand times the power of mere words.
"Come, Peter, I'll show you where I am now," I felt her say, and next moment we seemed to be floating to the right, and into the tunnel of light, that opened out into a new world. Everything there was exquisitely beautiful. There were people gaily moving about; everyone looked happy and serene.
She led me to a lovely garden, and I knew before I saw you, that Assumpta was taking me to see you. There you were, together with Dad. You both seemed so gloriously happy too. You hugged me, and told me that you loved me, then Dad did too. I realised then that Dad's sternness was just his way of caring, and wanting the best for us. I wanted to stay. I didn't actually say the words but felt it.
"You can't stay here yet, Peter," you told me, even though I hadn't put my desire into words. "You have to go back, because you still have work to do. We'll all look after you. Go and do what has to be done." I felt myself being pulled away from you and Dad by Assumpta.
I suddenly found myself back at the earthly end of the light tunnel, but Assumpta was still with me. It was unbelievable, that after all my misery and anger, and that feeling of absolute helplessness, I suddenly felt perfectly contented and at peace with life. In fact it was really like a feeling of joy, at being alive. The feeling was far more intense than it had been in those few hours after Assumpta and I had first declared our feelings for each other a few weeks ago.
I felt so unbelievably wonderful as I found myself back in my sleeping bag. I could sense all this love radiating out towards me from the blinding light in the tunnel where Assumpta was. I knew that it was God with her. This absolute joy and perfect love was God, and He loved me unconditionally, and forgave me all the anger and bitterness that I'd felt towards Him. And Assumpta was there, despite all her rejection of the church.
As Assumpta was enveloped in this light, and she slowly faded away, I was left with a feeling of peace. If I'd been given the power to bring Assumpta back to this life at that moment I wouldn't have done it. I know that she's in a place of ultimate happiness. I can't be unhappy for her, because she's at perfect peace and far happier than she ever was while on Earth.
I too felt some of that happiness, and I must have dropped off to sleep then. When I woke up it was dawn, and I heard birds starting to chirp, and the first rays of light were beginning to develop in the east. I thought about what I'd experienced. I think at the back of my mind I'd always worried that by her attitude to the church and religion, Assumpta may not find eternal peace. I could relax about that now.
Sitting up in my sleeping bag, I quietly looked at the trees that were just starting to become visible, as the stars started to fade one by one. I thought about what I'd experienced during the night, and knew that it wasn't a dream in the usual sense. It was far more real than that. It was as though I'd been taken physically and shown where you and Dad and Assumpta are now. I thanked God for the experience. I'd been wonderful. I asked for His forgiveness again for the way I hadn't trusted Him to look after me, and asked Him to show me what He wanted me to do. As soon as it was light enough, I started to write all this down so I'd remember every detail.
I don't want to leave this beautiful place that will always have such
special memories for me, but I know I have to go. I also realise that my
wandering days are coming to an end. I'm going to organise myself some
breakfast now, then pack up and head towards Dublin. I took careful note
of where I was, so I could return here one day.
I tried to clean myself up a bit, but it was obvious that I'd let myself
go. I had a scruffy beard, and my hair was much longer than usual, and
it was starting to curl around my neck and forehead. I ate the left overs
from my dinner for breakfast, then packed up my rucksack. I felt quite
lightheaded as I started off downhill towards the village I could see in
the distance. I
intended to meet the Wicklow Way walking trail which leads right into
Dublin.
As I walked over hills and dales today, for the first time I took an interest in my surroundings. It was obvious that it was no longer spring. The trees were all draped in their green summer costumes, and the hills were covered in their display of summer flowers. To me it was symbolic of a new beginning. Today was the first day of the rest of my life. As I walked I thanked God for not giving up on me, as I'd thought He had, over the last weeks.
By mid-afternoon I arrived in a small village that reminded me a lot of BallyK, both in size and atmosphere. When I saw the pub, I knew I should stay there. It was similar enough for me to feel relaxed, but different enough not to unsettle me. I booked a room, then went upstairs to do something about my scruffy appearance. I decided to keep the beard for the moment, it was part of the new me at present, but I tidied it up a bit, and shaved my neck. I also washed my clothes and even ironed them.
Downstairs there were a couple of regular drinkers; single people who come together for companionship. I ordered a pint and joined them when invited over. I introduced myself, and told them I was from Manchester, and enjoying their beautiful countryside. We chatted as I would have with Brendan, Padraig and Siobhan. I hadn't talked to anyone like this for weeks.
It was a pleasant evening. After dinner I went for a walk around the small village. Like BallyK, it seems to have grown up around a road junction. The main part consisted of mainly one street that had a number of houses, the pub, a few basic shops, a school and the church. A few further houses were scattered further away along the arms that stretched out connecting it to the rest of the world. I took a special interest in the church notice board, and noted that mass was at 10 am tomorrow. I knew I'd be there.
I felt that I would've liked to talk over my experience last night with
someone, but all I can do is write it all down, and share it with you.
I will relive it all now as I crawl into this nice clean bed. I'd give
any thing for it to happen again.
It's nearly a month since I'd entered a church. I left my rucksack in the foyer, and found a pew near the front and to the side, where I could see clearly, but be unobtrusive to the rest of the congregation.
The priest was a Fr. O'Reilly. He was an older man, and as soon as he started the mass, I felt that we were on the same wavelength. I don't know what it was, but I just felt in tune with him. I saw him look my way a couple of times, so I knew that he'd noticed me, a stranger in the village.
His homily was based on the story of Job, a rich, God-fearing man who lost everything; his land, his animals and even most of his family, but he didn't lose his faith. After having lost everything he declared, "The Lord giveth and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." He said this even when his friends were pleading with him to confess his sins. They believed, as most people did at that time, that all adversity was a punishment for sin.
Then Job became diseased, and was covered with sores, but he still wouldn't curse God. However he did question, asking why God was allowing him to suffer so much when he had always done everything that God had asked of him. I thought of how I'd pleaded with God, and admonished Him for treating me in this way. I'd reminded Him of how I'd served Him over the years, and accused Him of neglecting me at my time of greatest need.
Fr. O'Reilly went on to tell how a young friend stood by Job, and showed
him where he had it all wrong. It wasn't until Job had completely humbled
himself to the almighty power of God that his suffering stopped. When Job
had prayed for the friends who'd tried to lead him astray, he was given
everything back. God not only restored his wealth, but doubled it, and
gave him a new family and a hundred and forty years of prosperity. I realised
that although I'd been asking God to help me over the last weeks, I hadn't
genuinely given myself up to Him. I'd been too self-absorbed with my feelings
for Assumpta. I'd hadn't really served Him with all my heart. When I'd
carried out so many of my duties as a priest, including the sacraments,
I was operating on 'autopilot', with my mind completely wrapped in Assumpta.
Is that why God had taken her from me? Was it because I'd
become so completely wrapped up in my relationship with her, to the
exclusion of everything else?
I closed my eyes and bowed my head in prayer, and submitted myself to
His will. I didn't concentrate much on the rest of the mass, and afterwards
I knelt and prayed. I thanked God again for the experience of seeing Assumpta
once more, and the reassurance that she was with Him and happy. In complete
submission, I asked Him to take my life and use it as He willed. I
rededicated myself to Him and His service, and asked Him to open the
doors that He wanted me to enter, and firmly close those He didn't want
me to go through.
When I rose, I noticed that I was the last person to leave. At the door the priest introduced himself, and asked if I was Peter. I was a bit taken back, but I felt a strong connection with this man, and sensed that I could trust him, a feeling I hadn't had with many priests lately. So when he invited me to his house for some coffee, and said he'd explain everything there, I accepted gratefully.
Over coffee he told me that a few nights ago, he'd had a dream in which
he felt he was being compelled to speak to a sad, depressed young stranger,
who'd be in the church, and needed his help. The name Peter had just came
to his lips as he shook my hand. What puzzled him was that I didn't look
as sad and despondent as I had in his dream. I told him that I could probably
explain that.
His housekeeper came in with some delicious scones, straight out of
the oven. When she'd left, I tried to start, but the words wouldn't come.
"I don't know how to begin," I said, "this is really difficult for
me."
"There's no rush Peter, just take your time," he said gently.
I relaxed a bit, and gulped some coffee. I started by telling him that
until three weeks ago I'd been the curate at the BallyK church.
"Ah, Fr. MacAnnally's the parish priest there isn't he?" he asked "How
is he, Father?"
I told him that he'd better not call me that, because I'd actually
left the priesthood when I left BallyK.
"This change of heart hasn't been anything to do with Fr. Mac, has
it?" he asked looking very concerned.
I assured him that it wasn't anything to do with Fr. Mac, although
we'd had plenty of disagreements over the last three years.
Suddenly my tongue loosened, and it all came tumbling out. I told him how after the initial shock of leaving a big city in England, and arriving in a small community in Ireland, I'd really been extremely happy here. I told him about Assumpta, how I'd been attracted to her from the first moment we'd met. I described how we'd become good friends inspite of her mistrust of the church and the clergy and related how I'd tried to hide my feelings for almost three years. I told him that I'd even gone on retreat a few months ago, to try to control them.
I found it difficult to get the words out as I attempted to tell him how she'd married Leo, to try to put thoughts of me out of her head, and how it hadn't worked out for them either. I found I couldn't stop the tears coming into my eyes as I told him of your death, Mum, and how that had made me realise that I had to resolve the situation, and talk to Assumpta. All the weeks of pent up emotions just came pouring out as I told him about our talks by the lake, how we'd found out that we loved each other, but that it was still some time before I accepted that I couldn't live without her. Between sobs I told him how only hours after we'd discovered that we both wanted to be together no matter what, she died. I briefly described what happened on that terrible night, nearly four weeks ago. I confessed how I wasn't going to give her the sacrament of the last rites, because she'd said she didn't want it, until I'd been forced into it by the others. I didn't hold back anything.
I related how I'd left BallyK and for the last weeks I'd been walking around the surrounding hills, sleeping in haystacks and barns, and not caring what I looked like or ate. How I'd raged at God for allowing me to glimpse the joy of what it might've been like, to be a couple in perfect love together, only to have it taken away before it'd even started. I told him how I'd begged God to take me too, and my anger when He hadn't. These angry emotions alternating with an empty feeling of not caring what happened to me. I explained how having lost both you and Assumpta I felt there was no body who needed me. Steve's life was going really well, his career going from success to success, and his engagement, the icing on the cake. He didn't need me, and probably never would. At the time there seemed to be no reason to keep on living. Fr. O'Reilly nodded in understanding, he didn't need to say any words. I knew he understood how I felt. I told him then how I'd been unhappy with some aspects of being a priest. How having made the decision to leave, I didn't want to go back, even though Assumpta, my reason for leaving in the first place, had died. I explained that I now believed that my future lay somewhere else, and not as a priest.
I emptied my cup and waited for Fr. O'Reilly to comment. He looked at
me with great compassion.
"When something like that happens, something that causes such suffering,
you can chose to give up on your beliefs and reject the world. You can
wallow in self pity, become angry and bitter, so making the world, and
those you come in contact with, unhappy. Or you can go the other way, and
grow spiritually, letting this shattering experience make you a stronger
and more caring person."
I knew Fr. O'Reilly was right. I thought of Judge Bradley, who'd given me his Jowlett Javelin car three years ago. He was a bitter and cantankerous man, who'd made everyone around him miserable by his attitude, after his wife died. I knew that I never wanted to end up like that.
Fr. O'Reilly went on. "Life's pain and hardships can make you either
bitter or better. It's up to you to decide which. I think you've already
decided, haven't you? What you described earlier, is how I saw you in my
dream, but when you arrived at
mass this morning you looked so much happier and relaxed. What's happened
to change you so much?"
So I started to relate my experience from two nights ago. I described how Assumpta had come to me looking so radiant and happy. I told him how she'd taken me to see you and Dad who were similarly happy, and how I'd sensed God speaking to me, and telling me that I had to go back to finish something here on Earth. I watched his face, half expecting him to not believe me, but I could see he was most interested, so I continued and told him everything that had happened.
When I'd finished, he smiled. "You have been greatly blessed, my son," he said "What you've experienced, very few are privileged to see. Hold it close to your heart and go and do what has already been laid out for you. I'm wondering if my asking you here today has been as much for my benefit, as yours."
He asked me to stay and have some lunch, and we chatted like old friends over some sandwiches brought in by his housekeeper. It seems the issues I've had the greatest problems with in the church, are the ones Fr. O'Reilly also finds difficulty with. He told me that he's always let his conscience guide him when he felt something was in conflict with the church's teachings.
He also explained to me that his homily on Job hadn't been the scripture reading that had been set down for today. Like his dream, he'd had a strong premonition that he couldn't explain, to use the story of Job instead. He told me that there were many ways in which I could serve God, besides being a priest. He said like the story of Job, God sometimes allows suffering to teach us something, or to prepare us for some role. He said it was obvious that God wanted me for something else besides being married to Assumpta and running a pub. I actually laughed. I hadn't felt so relaxed for a long time.
When we'd finished eating, Fr. O'Reilly asked me what my immediate plans
were. I replied that I wasn't sure, but that I felt that I had to make
my way to Dublin. From there I'd ring my brother, who might be worried
if he'd contacted anyone in BallyK in the last few weeks, and heard what
had happened. "Good", he said, "It appears that you are moving forward,
and Assumpta has given you the kick in the pants you needed to do it."
"Yeah, I suppose she has," I agreed.
He patted me on the shoulder in a fatherly way. "God be with you my
son. I expect to hear great things from you in the
future."
I left the little village and climbed to the highest peak around.
It was one of those rare warm days when you could see for miles. I sat
there and prayed. I asked for God's forgiveness for having been so angry
with Him for taking Assumpta away, for not having seen His guiding hand
as clearly as I might have. I know that He understands, and that with His
help I'll get through. I also know that we don't have to go and sit in
a box and ask for forgiveness through a grown man in a frock. I gave myself
to God, acknowledging that I was ready to move on, to fullfil the purpose
He's laid out for me. I know the pain will never go away, but with
His help it will gradually lessen and become easier to bare.
Again she was in the centre of a brilliant circle of light. My impression was that she was alone. I was more ready this time, and I opened my arms to her and she floated into them.
As before, the smell of her distinct perfume was very real, and her hair was lose and fell over my arms. We held each other close, then she told me in my mind that she was pleased with the improvement in my appearance, and that I hadn't given up on life. How could I, when I was so privileged with not just one, but two encounters with her.
She told me I had to move on and meet new people. There were people who needed me she said. Then she gave me her blessing, insisting that if I ever met anyone else, and fell in love again, I was to let myself love them, and not deny myself that happiness and fulfillment. She explained that one day we'd all be reunited in the place where she was now, but meanwhile I had a job to do. She emphasized again that my time had not yet come, and urged me strongly to make friends I could open up to.
I felt her leaving me then. I tried to hold onto her, but she just moved
out of my arms like she was thistle down.
"Don't leave me, Assumpta," I found myself crying out, echoing my words
from four weeks ago.
"We'll never leave you Peter, we'll always be there for you," voices
said. I wasn't sure if it was Assumpta. It felt like it was Assumpta, you
and Dad, and God, all encircling me with your love and protection.
I felt Assumpta kiss me on my cheek and stroke my beard, then she was gone.
I opened my eyes. It was still dark, and the experience again had been
so real. I wondered what God wanted me to do. So I got down on my knees
and asked Him to show me. In my mind the reply came to me.
"All in my good time, my son. All will be revealed in my good time."
"All right," I said to Him in my mind. "I'll just keep on doing what
I believe is right, if You just make it clear, by closing the doors to
the path I mustn't go. I trust You to show me the way."
I decided to continue walking into Dublin via the Wicklow Way walking
trail. I could do it in 2 days I guessed.
I arrived in Dublin about four o'clock. After a relaxing bath I went
downstairs to the bar and ordered a pint, only the second one I'd had since
leaving BK. Within a few minutes I was joined by a couple of young fellows
who look like they might have been hikers too. I recognized their accents
straight away. Actually one, Doug, was a New Zealander, but the other,
Dan, was Australian. We struck up a conversation. Doug was a university
student, and Dan a doctor , who'd each decided to break out for a year
to visit the 'mother country'. They'd both been trekking around Europe
and met in a youth hostel in England. They'd hit it off and decided that
two journeyed more enjoyably than one, so had been travelling together
for the last few months. They were about to start off exploring Ireland
on foot, and were interested to hear where I'd been the last days. They
were eager for my recommendations regarding what to see. I was vague about
what my future plans were, but that didn't seem to bother them.
Dan had traveled widely in Australia with his family, and he described how large and diverse the country was. Its large cities and wide open countryside. He described how uninhabited the centre of Australia was, with neighbours needing to drive a whole day to see each other. Many pastoralists have small aeroplanes to get around, he told me.
He described how many of the native Australian Aboriginals lived in isolated communities where they had difficulty getting good health care, education and other services. After he'd got this travel bug out of his system, he planned to join the Royal Flying Doctor Service and work to bring health care to these people in isolated locations.
I'm still not sure what God wants me to do, but I now know that my life is being directed. I thanked God for his guidance, and again asked Him to firmly close any doors I'm not meant to enter. After breakfast I said goodbye to Doug and Dan and wished them happy hiking. They were nearing the end of their year, and were due back in Australia in about a month. This was their last trek before making arrangements for their flights home.
I rang up Steve, and told him very briefly what had happened to me over
the last month. He was completely lost for words when I was finished, and
offered to come straight over to Dublin to see me. I told him I was OK,
and was planning to return to England anyway. He insisted I come to London
and stay with him until I'd sorted myself out. That was nice, everything
seemed
to be falling in place.
I told him about Assumpta. How we had been attracted to each other, probably from the moment we met. How I had fought my desires and emotions until Mum's death had made me vulnerable. How after finding out that our feelings for each other had been mutual, I had decided to leave the priesthood. I didn't dwell on Assumpta's death, and Stephen was sensitive enough not to ask. I told him how I had just walked away from my vocation and wandered over the Irish mountains for over three weeks trying to find my purpose in life.
Steve was hurt that I hadn't contacted him when I was in such depths of despair. I think I was able to make him understand how I felt that I had to grow up and that no-one else could do it for me. I couldn't bring myself to tell him about meeting Assumpta on the hillside. I just don't think he'd understand. I did tell him that I felt I was being drawn to visit Australia. I reminded him of Phyllis' invitation, and that I'd thought I might take her up on it. I could start there and from that base explore the country and my future options.
To my relief Steve was very enthusiastic for me to go. He thought a change of scene was a good idea for me. The sale of Mum's house had left us with enough cash for me to do this and still leave enough as a deposit for something on my return. He mentioned that he'd been asked to try out for a production being considered for filming in Australia early next year. So he might even go over himself he said. He might even try to find out who was playing Australia in the cricket over the Australian summer, and come over for that at the same time.
As it was late, we decided to ring Phyllis tomorrow morning. It would
then be late afternoon or evening in Australia, so we'd be more likely
to catch her and John in.
I told them that I'd like to come in a few weeks, as soon as I could
book, and make the arrangements. I explained that as I'd left Ireland,
I was completely free. They said that it suited them perfectly, because
they were going to be home until either October or November when they were
coming to Europe for three weeks. So that was that. All I have to do is
check my
passport, and book the ticket, and Australia here I come. I feel really
excited at the prospect of this unexpected adventure.
I still feel very sad about losing Assumpta and not having been able
to talk to her about so many things that we might have shared. However,
I know that she's happy where she is, and I'm only being selfish wishing
she was here with me. We will be together again one day, meanwhile I have
to fulfill my purpose in life, and I know she wouldn't want me to do that
feeling
miserable all the time. So for her sake and yours Mum, I try to put
on a brave face as I head into the future.