Anam Cara

One of the loneliest places in the world to be is at a deathbed where the one who is departing is haunted by regret for their unlived life. One of the greatest sins is the unlived life. If my own death were to occur tomorrow, what would be the peaks of my existence? The faces of my beloved, and of others I love and those who love me. The dark valleys of devastation; mountains; the ocean; the numinous music of words; the endless festival of the senses; the excitement and beauty of woman; the joy of music; memories of hard but satisfying days of work on the bog, in the meadows, building walls; conversations that still sing in the mind; the harp cello of the Irish language; the Eucharist, and the celebration of the body in love; being listened to when words were frail and suffering was sore; the return of the swallows to the shed; my uncle’s companionship; my father’s mystical sense; and my mother’s love and trust in my being.