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Suzanne suggested I take her place at the end of this tale and tell my side of things. I thought that a strange idea. I mean, I know the books are all about my life and my family, but I’m not a writer. I argued with her, saying I knew nothing about computers or keyboards, and I’d be more comfortable writing in Gaelic anyway.
She nixed that idea. “No, Michael, English, else no one will know what you said.”
But isn’t that the fun part? I replied.
And she laughed at me. “You’re always full of it.”
Yes, well, perhaps I am. Perhaps that is the Irish side of me coming out. The way I look at it, you have to have a little fun in life else you grow old too quickly, and growing old is the last thing on my mind.
There was the fact, too, I’d have to write about my daughter, Maire, and what happened to her. A father never wants to recall these things. It was horrible enough when it happened, and frankly, I didn’t understand why she wanted to write the tale to begin with.
She argued with me about that too. “Just tell it to me like it happened.”
So I did, and now in reading it, I see her heart in it more because what happened to Maire, happened to me, to all of us. Granted, it’s a horrible subject, one of a more adult nature, but in order to tell it and tell it well, she had to show the healing as much as the crime. It was in the healing between her and Gerritt, that my sweet Maire found her happiness.
Did I tell you about my wee grand ...? Oh, she says I can’t let that part out yet. Sigh. I did want to brag a bit about the grandchild. The baby looks just like ... What? Not that either. Well, what’s left for a grandda to do then?
Aye. Tell the thank you’s, she says. As always, she has to thank the wonderful Irishmen and women at the Irish Language Forum. I don’t know what a language forum is, but I’ll bet it would have been helpful to me in the past when I had to translate that piece of Patrick’s.
The song my son, Michael, sang at the Christmas Eve service is Carúl Loch Garman, in English, The Wexford Carol. (See there, I got my bit o’Gaelic in.) I remember my mama singing it to me at Christmas time. She had the most wonderful voice. The two verses presented in the text are the first and third verses. It does, in fact, date back to the 12th century.
Good people all, this Christmas time,
Consider well and bear in mind
What our good God for us has done
In sending his beloved son
With Mary holy we should pray,
To God with love this Christmas Day
In Bethlehem upon that morn,
There was a blessed Messiah born
Near Bethlehem did shepherds keep
Their flocks of lambs and feeding sheep
To whom God's angel did appear
Which put the shepherds in great fear
Arise and go, the angels said
To Bethlehem, be not afraid
For there you'll find, this happy morn
A princely babe, sweet Jesus, born
She says to tell you there are videos up at You Tube of the song, including one sung in Gaelic. I haven’t any idea what a You Tube is, but people singing in Gaelic sounds good to me. I’d sing it for you myself, but she says, “No, because they can’t hear you.” That is a shame.
But then my son is the better singer, so probably you’d rather hear him.
She tells me he sounds like some fellow named Andrea Bocelli. That sounds Italian to me, not Irish, so I can’t see it, but will take her word for it.
Lastly, she must thank author Dana Pratola, who helped her with scenes and encouragement, and editing.
Oh, and if you want to read my story, the one Gerritt wrote, that would be the first book in this series, Love & Redemption, available in print and as an ebook. I don’t know what an ebook is, but it’s a good story, so you should get you a copy.
And you should hang around because the next story is Michael’s.
Go mbeannaí Dia thú.
May God bless you.
Michael O’Fallen
* The other song’s in the story are as follows:
Chapter 6
Fáinne Geal an Lae-The Dawning of the Day
Chapter 10
A) Bog Braon don tSeanduine
B) Is é mo shámud re mnái
Chapter 11
The Last Rose of Summer