Left my Mum in County Cork

You know your husband loves you when he decants a portion of your mother’s ashes from her resting place inside a black cremation box, into a tiny glass vial.

For 14 years, I didn’t have the stomach to open that black box. I couldn’t bear to visualise her remains reduced to ash. Whilst I had taken great care to choose a vessel for her to ‘live’ in, a beautifully colourful and expertly crafted vase, it remains empty to this day. I know my Mum would have loved it, but I couldn’t face the process required to relocate her.

My Mum loved Ireland, the land of our heritage. It was a great desire of hers to travel there and to reconnect with her ancestral roots. I think she expected to have a spiritual affinity with the land and its people. My Mum had an innate need for acceptance, perhaps we all do, but I can’t help but wonder if she was looking to find herself, and a greater sense of belonging in Ireland.

Given that her cancer treatment spanned 18 years, often she was too sick to travel. Mum never realised her dream.

Before she died, Mum asked me to take her to Ireland.

Over 14 years later, I fulfilled my promise.

Perhaps the delay was selfish on my part. I knew that to take her, meant I would have to let a piece of her go, not only physically but emotionally, and I found that difficult to comprehend. I wanted to hold on to every part of her.

I placed the small vial in a zipped pocket of my suitcase, and prayed that she would not be discovered. I worried that, if found, she would be discarded in an unspeakable place and my good intentions would be thwarted.

First we travelled to Iceland. A land indescribable.

Then, to Ireland.

As we circumnavigated this magnificent country, with its rolling emerald hills and quaint colourful architecture, I searched for the perfect place to let her go. Silently, I hoped it could not be found.

We hiked along the majestic Cliffs of Moher and stared endlessly at the wild Atlantic, bathed in sunshine. Was this the place?

I carried Mum with me wherever I went, safely hidden in my internal jacket pocket, and close to my heart. From Dublin to Belfast, Donegal to Galway and around the Ring of Kerry, I carried her.

Nearing the end of our time in Ireland, I was coming to terms with the possibility that maybe she would be returning home with me. Although the places we visited were magnificent and breathtaking, they weren’t right for her.

We have a strong ancestral connection to County Cork and I was excited to see where my maternal grandfathers people originated. I wanted to walk the streets, to breathe the energy in this place, to experience life even if for a brief moment.

Whilst walking through old Cork, we found a beautiful garden. As I walked the path, I gazed upon intricate and ancient headstones, some dating back many hundreds of years. The magnificent trees protected those at rest, and allowed the sun to shine upon them as they swayed in the gentle breeze. Peace in this garden was palpable.

I walked through the garden with its lush green grass, bright flowers overlooking a breathtaking cathedral and read each of the headstones. I had not felt such peace amidst natural beauty throughout my time in Ireland. There was something incredibly special and spiritual about this place. Without conscious thought, I recited to myself, ‘what a lovely place to be laid to rest.’

At that moment, a wave of electricity ran through me. I was reminded of my quest and smiled. I had found it. The place to let my Mum go. Then I cried.

I found a collection of rocks in the centre of the garden that had beautiful little white daisies growing out of it. It appeared to be a tomb of some kind but it didn’t have any inscription on it, nor did it resemble the many other graves. I sat down, in the sunshine, with a light breeze, with my Mum…

I cried, I prayed and I sang and then I opened the small vial and let her to wind. 

It was a most sacred moment. Unforced, I just leaned into my instinct and allowed it to unfold. I sat with her for what felt like a very long time. I didn’t want to walk away and leave her. All around me was silent except for the trees that whispered to me in the breeze, ‘we will take care of her.’

My Mum loved gardens, she found peace and purpose in them. I know that we found her perfect place for her, in beautiful garden, resting on a place of worship, in her ancestral home.

I noted the GPS co-ordinates and sent them to my brother back home so he knew where she was. If you go there, please give her my love.

Dannielle xx

Saint Fin Barre Cathedral sits on the bank of the River Lee and whilst the cathedral was completed in 1879, the ground upon which it was built and upon which those are laid to rest, has been a place of worship since the 7th century.