I know people are curious, as I would have been, to know how life goes on after the death of a son or daughter and particularly when suicide is involved.
Life in our house goes on as normal. Tonight as Tony came home from work, about 6pm as usual, the lads met him at the door to see what he brought home: sweets, biscuits or maybe a big kiss, sweets being preferable.
As he came in the door Lucy had her head down and started to cry…then panic stations, she had succeeded in putting lego up her nose! It took plenty of tears, sn*ts and about 10 minutes to retrieve the flippin thing. Phew!
I was at the time trying to get my head around an assignment on the defence of provocation in Ireland before college at seven, wondering what the flippin hell I’m doing in college when I haven’t a clue how to write a 3000 word essay!!! I’ll worry about that tomorrow.
I was driving home, all pleased with myself, that I had managed, by some miracle to pass all my Christmas exams, listening to East Coast Radio, when a song came on (you just call out my name, and you know wherever I am, I’ll come running) had me in floods…could be any song really!
I don’t know whether it’s an Irish superstition that usually these things happen in 3’s? While I was in college, Jack almost blew up the microwave trying to melt the chocolate spread, with the foil bits still attached to the edge, and then the shower blew up when Tony was in it. (wish I was there, I’d say that was hilarious)
It was all pretty funny; but does superstition not state it’s supposed to happen in 3’s? So should we not have some dispensation as we will always have the first one…Shane’s still dead. Sorry for putting a dampener on this, it was a pretty funny evening but japers, how can life be normal?