...Goes Around, Comes Around
Talamh by Carol Feller in Blue Moon Fiber Arts - Raven colour way
... for Mary
...Mary clearly has an existence far beyond the gym, but we just happen to have bonded on exercise machines there, and despite their limitations, we still managed to cover almost every sphere of life imaginable conversationally over the past few years.
Three weeks ago Mary lost her beloved dad - it’s very clear Mary's dad was beloved and that she and her siblings went to great lengths to establish the best care possible for both him and her mother - worrying about them or calling in to see them or liaising with her sister or brother about their care have been regular passing conversational themes.
It's also clear that Mary's father was one of those quietly accomplished countrymen quite like my own. My father didn't keep bees, but he certainly helped a friend who did. Mary's father and mine also had wine making, beer brewing, green houses with geraniums and cacti in common - I bet Mary's dad kept a compost heap too and that they were sent out as kids to throw vegetable peelings there. I"m sure Mary's father also made autumnal bonfires, was good at car mechanics and a strong proponent of araldite, balls of twine, and boxes of spare fuses and plugs. I know he was an excellent woodworker, but he's bound to have been an expert lawnmower and demon hedge clipper too… My father's singing voice wasn't the best (my mother's department), but Mary's father's was. My father did have a record player and 78's, however, and when you drew him out he could tell great stories. Mary's father was from County Clare and she knew the stones and flowers of the Burren in the same way as we knew the Bog of Allen.
The loss of someone so kind and capable is huge without a doubt, but a caring nature, civility, respect for others and a great sense of fun are unarguable and didn't come from nowhere, so perhaps he's not quite as lost as initially feared.
