11.01.2010 - 11.01.2010 6 °C
Hey, thanks for logging onto the blog this morning, afternoon, or night, depending on where you might be in the world. I haven't written for a while because I felt all confussed about what I am doing with my life, the usual, am I fulfilling my ability. That was just for a little bit when I watched Oprah today. Now feel a tad sad. Why? This summer we went on the roadtrip, and it was amazing, but for whatever reason, and I have only got to assume it is something to do with me, nobody is all the much interested. Lesson for me - don't think you are all that and more. This is not meant to be a depressing piece, but if you like to wallow a bit then read on...
Today I stood by the graveside of a my uncle-in-law, Fr. Eddie Kieran, who died two years ago. The graveyard was freezing, noone around and the wind whipped in at lashes and sways from over the snow-capped whitened Cooley Mountains. (Making a great job of getting past the massive concreate Xerox factory to the foreground!). Fr. Eddie was a very special man, a spiritual person who was I think looking back now, something like a saint. (Now don't get all holy Joe on me, says you, ok). But I felt so cold and sad standing there looking at where he was laid to rest, and thinking of the warm Texan sunshine he lived under for over 40 years. I thought how we had been in Bovina, his little parish in Texas - in summer, when I watched my children run from his parish house, across the dry earth into the nearby Church where he said Mass every morning. The feeling I got just sitting in there, that hot afternoon was overwhelming. It was the most unexpected surprise of the trip for me. And I wondered how he lived there - in that place, which was isolated - flat, brittle and humanly challenging. And it made me feel the power of what we can only do in this life, with what we are given. How small and how mundane - we trace a path of somesort over the earth, and we hope that whatever spirit we give out, will live there when we are gone. And that's what I felt, his spirit, it was living in Bovina - but his memory was still alive in that cold graveyard. It's a very surreal experience, to feel blessed - to have known such a person - and to see him still living on through various mannerism in our children. Not sure why I am writing this today, but just thought it was worth a line or two.