With a major assignment for Sinead pending, it was three weeks before the next Sunday outing. As Julian called at the hostel, they decided to forgo a movie and return to Bondi. It was a crisp, winter afternoon, yet still and sunny. As they walked, Sinead requested Julian’s help in completing another assignment. For some time they engaged in discussion on the topic until Sinead decided, “Okay, Julian, that’s enough. You’ve explained that part to me – thanks so much – I’ll finish this assignment now. So, let’s forget work and enjoy the afternoon.”
“A great idea,” Julian agreed.
Time passed quickly. They were on the return part of the beachfront walk, when suddenly Sinead suggested, “Let’s paddle!”
Surprised, Julian questioned his hearing. Sinead repeated, “Let’s paddle!”
Now, sure of what he was hearing, Julian replied tentatively, “Okay.”
Like two young school children, they soon bounded over the sand and were running along the beach, their feet catching the breaking waves.
Wow! Julian thought. I haven’t done this in years!
As they laughed and ran, the world stood still. As they laughed and ran, problems vanished.
The sun had disappeared and twilight was descending as, cold and puffing, they padded back to the walkway. Instead of a formal dinner, they decided on enjoying a ‘take away’ while watching the moon rise over the ocean. It was a light-hearted meal.
“It’s been a great day,” Sinead spoke softly.
“Sure has. We must have more of this,” Julian agreed. He looked over toward her. To his surprise, he noticed tears welling. “Si, what’s wrong?”
Sinead said nothing. In spite of her best effort to stem the flow of tears, they began to fall – at first a sprinkle, then growing in strength, but always gently, silently.
His arm stole around her as he whispered, “Si, talk to me. Tell me what is hurting you so deeply.”
She shook her head as tears continued to fall. Time for talking would come, Julian knew. But now she needed to let out this deep-seated hurting. Eventually, as the tears dried, she whispered, “Sorry.”
“Tell me,” he whispered.
“You don’t want to hear my story!” She meant what she said.
“I certainly do!” He also meant what he said.
Slowly, and sometimes broken by a sob, Sinead spoke.
She had been reared by her grandparents. Her parents, whom she never remembered, had been killed in a car crash when she was only two years old. Her grandparents had reared not only her, but also her brother Liam, who was three years older than she. Her childhood had been happy. They lived in a little cottage on the banks of Galway Bay. Each morning very early, her grandfather would leave home to ride his bike the fifteen kilometres to the farm where he worked, then back home after dark. She and her brother, she declared, were reared with love and care. Her brother left to work in Australia while still a teenager. For a couple of years he wrote regularly. Then correspondence suddenly stopped.
She had achieved well at school and it was expected she would progress to Dublin University. But dramatic changes in her life required dramatic decisions. About this time her grandfather died from a massive heart attack. She decided to make plans for her future later – right then she was needed with her grandmother, who had been battling dementia for the last couple of years. Soon Sinead faced another massive decision.
Due to loss of her mate or to progress of the illness, her grandmother’s perception of life suddenly faded completely. Following strong advice, and with the help of the medical profession and friends, her grandmother was admitted to a nursing home. By then she lived in a world of her own and very rarely communicated in any way on Sinead’s constant visits.
Sinead had another problem. She had no job, no means of income. To stay in the little cottage that had been home to her for as long as she could remember, she needed an income for rent. With little thought, she made a dramatic decision. No one needed her here. But she had a brother somewhere in Australia – a brother who had not corresponded for many years. She would go to Australia.
Julian could only guess at the trauma she experienced in leaving the only home, the only country she had known, for a new life in a new country while searching for a lost brother.
She passed over, quickly and lightly, the trauma she must have experienced in finding a place and way of life in a strange country.
She continued the story of her search for her brother. He had left the address – the only address she knew – without a forwarding contact.
“I prayed and God looked after me,” she declared as she continued to relate how friends she made had helped, how officials had been kind and how, miraculously, she found her brother within a year of searching. But the finding was a tragic end to her search. It was his grave she found. Through a social worker who had befriended him, she heard of the spiral path of her brother’s fall to his sudden death. “And his parents have a lot to answer for!” she had added.
“That is when my world did turn upside down,” Sinead whispered.
She returned to the story. When she had pressured her for more information, the social worker realized that Sinead knew nothing of their existence and endeavoured to close the story. But Sinead was determined to hear the full story. She was finally given it.
How her brother discovered that their parents still lived, no one could tell. But, on learning they were still alive, he set out to find them. And, eventually, he did find them. His dream of a wonderful reunion was soon dashed. They wanted nothing to do with him or with their family in Ireland. He was devastated. That was the beginning of the end for him. That was the beginning of his life with drugs. She hesitated. Julian squeezed her hand.
Seconds later she continued, “I visit his grave now and then. Last year I had saved enough for a proper headstone. Bless him, he was a good brother.” A few tears fell gently. Then she continued, “With the help of friends, once again, I learned how to become an Australian, how to become an Australian student, how to live again!” After a few seconds she added, “I’m an Australian citizen now and, hopefully, will live here for years ahead – perhaps all my life. But there are still – and always will be – many happy memories of Ireland.”
“And your grandmother?” he asked gently.
“She died two years ago. She and Granddad are together again now. Even buried together. One day I’ll go back. Right now – well – on with the studies!” She smiled wanly.
There was one part of her story, he knew, that hung in the air. Should he bring it up? Had she resolved it already?
He was still questioning himself when Sinead spoke again. “And as for my parents – the parents that gave us life and then spurned us! Unlike my brother, I have no wish to find them, to see them. For a couple of years after my discovery I hated them with a vengeance. I wished them every type of misfortune. Now… well now, I don’t care. They were never really in my life. I have no memory of them at all. I grew up thinking they were dead. So they will always be dead to me!”
Minutes passed. Then she whispered, “Thanks for listening. It’s helped me a lot.”
“Sinead,” he whispered as he took her in his arms and kissed her for the first time, gently, lovingly. She responded.
So much for us to talk about, he thought. But not tonight. Tonight she made the decision to pull down the barrier between us. That’s enough for her now. But soon – very soon I hope – we have a future to talk about.
As they drove home, both knew that a new world was opening before them.