Irish

My heritage is Irish - my Dad's grandparents were said to be first generation Irish/American. As none of the relatives are left - either alive or cognizant - that is a tale that cannot be told as either 100% truth or 100% bunk.

I am Irish on my father's side and that is a fact. ;-) (European mix on Mom's side)

The Irish are full of traditions - with one of the bigger ones being the wake tradition.

This Friday Kevin's family will be holding a less traditional wake. We will be loading up his "mobile man space" and taking his remains to his favorite camping spot, there to throw a party for all of his friends. Many will spend the night - as keys will be confiscated - and preparations will be made for inclement weather.

Kevin's Dad is of Irish descent and he and I share tales from time to time of attending catholic schools and compare the "mercy" of the nuns. (My grade school teachers were sisters of mercy [ha] We each have [fond] memories of knuckles being rapped with metal edged wooden rulers.)

There will be food and laughter and all the things that go with the revelry of a wake.

Irish joke: what's the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish wake? There'll be one less drunk at the wake.

Mr. Moose and I will attend - I have been asked to bring potato salad as mine is the only one Kevin c/would eat. We will stay for awhile, but will not camp out. I will read my poems written for Kevin over the past 14 years - only two - and others will share their thoughts as well.

His ashes will get a proper send off.

And, life will go on for those left behind to mourn his passing. The sun will continue to rise and to set. The birds will continue to sing. (Why do the birds go on singing?) We will set our faces to the sun and continue to live on. For that is what Kevin would have wanted.

I'll leave you with a few Irish toasts:

To live above with the Saints we love,
Ah, that is the purest glory.
To live below with the Saints we know,
Ah, that is another story!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
May neighbours respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
May those that love us, love us.
And those that don’t love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if he doesn’t turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by their limping.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
May you have food and raiment, a soft pillow for your head. May you be forty years in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
'Slainte!' To Kevin!
(pronounced 'slawn-cha', meaning Health! A common toast in Ireland, the equivalent to 'Cheers')

Posted by Purplemoose at September 8, 2005 08:25 AM