My Dad has left for a better place

On Friday, June 28, at 2pm, our world changed forever. My Dad peacefully passed away. He had no pain, he was surrounded by his family and he was at peace. I am now at peace for him.

In a world where we cannot control the higher force, we must find ways to cope and he finally did. After an injury that he overcame, the pain still came back, the body still cried, something wasn’t right. A man of huge tolerance for pain but sometimes one just cannot fight it anymore. Sometimes the higher force gets a hold and it almost knocks one out. In his own words “I cannot stick this pain, it will knock me”. Then it becomes about survival, about life or death, about the experts doing their job; everything is in their control but then it moves to an outside force, a force that controls the hours, the time left, the comfort.

My father passed away quickly but with dignity and pride, where his family got to spend a little time, where one could say goodbye, where one got to ensure he was happy, content and ready to go. There is something beautiful about that feeling; where the end has come but that very short path was perfect. It was pain free, it was comforting for the man himself, the family got to travel that journey right to the last breath.

As the days went by the communication changed, from talking to less talking, from holding ones hand to squeezing a finger, from smiling to winking, and then nothing but deep breaths. But that’s OK because he is preparing us for what’s coming, and he has already reassured us he is ready to go. When there is a younger generation now to be brought through the process, that’s when things get really hard for me; we try to protect them, we try to make everything OK for them but we cannot. We must be honest, tell it all as it is, allow them to go through the stages because they have to. This is life, this is real, they deserve to understand, they will come through, they are stronger than we think, they have wonderful memories and they have someone to mind them, to protect them, from above.

My Dad was a man of many talents; one being the gift of the gab. He loved to chat, to tell stories, to have the craic. In my home house, the door was always open and the kettle always on the boil. There was always someone calling no matter what the time or day; a great storyteller and a man of many sayings. He could take it but by goodness he could give it and sometimes it might not be what you want to hear, like when the sheep break out and panic sets in or when the turf falls off the trailer in the bog or it comes raining while waiting for the hay to be saved.

He absolutely loved music and dancing. Many weekends spent all over the country to dance the day and night away. When I was a young girl, spins in the car were entertained by songs like “The Town I Love So Well”, “Calendonia”, “Moonlight in Mayo” and it goes on. He was a wonderful dancer and so I loved any opportunity at a wedding or an occasion to get a spin with him.

When you love the dancefloor, to have a good dance partner lifts the person higher. Tou know how they twist, turn, their timing, their actions, you both get into a rhythm, a flow, a bond is formed. The day before he died, he told me if the people in the dancehall wouldn’t dance with me, he’d deal with him and I know he will!

He loved farming and the land. He might sometimes give out about it but every day he walked the land, he had a plan for that day; he had to be the first to shear the sheep, to bring home the turf and to save the hay; all done in that order and before the Galway Races so he could head to one of his favourite spots – Salthill, in the caravan.

A few days before he passed away, he brought home two trailer loads of turf. Salthill was in the brain. I am so very thankful to have got the chance to spend the time helping him with a family tradition that I know meant a lot to him; with my mam and my son, him in charge, guiding and leading the chore. People say we were very similar; he instructing me on what to do, of course he wanted the turf done to perfection. I was thinking speed, my son was getting away with no instruction. Being told a week later by Dad’s friend that he never saw anyone lifting the whole grogeen of turf and landing it neatly in the trailer; of course this was perfection and speed, it was bringing mine and my Dad’s skills together. Our children have learnt many skills, talents and tricks from Grandad but most of all they have the memories to carry them through. Our son now continuing my father’s traditions. Our daughter completely heartbroken; trips on the bus to Galway will have changed but the bus will still travel.

The morning after his passing I head to the land in Carras; a place very close to his heart, where his Mam came from. I need to go there, I need to walk the land, I need to run through the fields to be near him, to off load, to run the anger out of my body, to mourn and so I do.

I park where he always parked. I climb the gate, I see the pin, I see the fields. I begin to cry, it’s heartbreaking. I can see him walking up ahead, his hands crossed behind his back, his old clothes, the wellies, his work stick, him shouting at the dog, him calling the sheep, me being told to hide so they won’t see me and he’ll be able to count them quicker. I start to remember many moments but some stick out; trying to put sheep in a pin and they keep breaking out, us running through thistles, briars, and grass, the sheep running faster. Dad telling me this was the best cross-country training ever, him determined to win over the animals, he does and we get them in. On the morning of our son’s birth, he was putting up a fence, a roasting hot day, he needed water, I travel over and of course got a job helping out, sometimes it was the company and the job got done quicker.

People say my fencing work sped things up, our son was born that evening. As I jog over through the fields, the emotions turn from tears to a smile; my husband has done a wonderful job keeping Carras as my Dad would have liked. I have many, many childhood memories of days spent here that I will treasure forever. I look forward to creating new memories with my husband and children, continuing the stories and passing on his love for this place.

He was an avid sportsperson in his heyday and in later years supporting Mayo with family members. Long days heading off on the train to Dublin, up since 6am with excitement but also to get the jobs done. In my younger days he was never a man to be on time, but on matchday he’d be in my kitchen waiting for all to rise. He played football all his life, with his beloved Kilmaine, winning 7-a-side tournaments all over, winning four county titles over four decades; one at the start of his career and one at the end; he won three All-Ireland medals with the Mayo over 40’s.

We got to travel the country. I saw him win the titles and I was privileged, because he got to see me win many All-Ireland’s and a world title. He could do circus tricks I’ve never seen anyone else even attempt; jumping in and out of a barrel without holding onto the sides.

He ran the roads, cross-country and the fields, often speaking about running barefoot cross-country in Hollymount and sometimes hitting the wall. He had no sympathy if I complained, as they ran the road in what he called sandshoes.

What a wonderful moment to see him at 17 miles in the Dublin marathon with my Mam, brother, and the Mayo flag. It made me stronger. To arrive in Shannon Airport after winning a world medal, to see him and my family unexpectedly in the carpark, again with the Mayo flag, memories that will stay with me forever and I know him to.

In a situation like this I don’t think of myself, I think first of Dad and his final journey, and I know it was a happy one. I think of my Mam and brother and supporting them, I think of my husband and our children, bringing them through this very difficult time. I think of my wonderful extended family, they also need us.

All his distraught friends and neighbours; being there to listen to share stories, to continue boiling the kettle. I know I will be fine, I have escapism, I have hope and I carry some of his talents; he gifted me with the strength and skill to run, race and compete, enabling me to power through each day, he instilled a toughness in me that will carry me through anything.

He passed on his love of dancing which lifts me to another place. I inherited his gift of the gab enabling me to carry on chats to family and friends, a welcome will always exist in my home for people, storytelling and memories. He passed on his love for his family, his devoted wife, son and grandkids, I will continue his love. I will cry, mourn, and deeply miss my Dad, but I will smile and be at one with peace knowing that he has moved to a better place.

To a place free from pain, discomfort, from health barriers that would prevent him doing the things he loved. To a place where he can dance freely, continue the chats and if there are roads he will travel widely because he loved the road. If there are people he will meet them and befriend them because he loved people. If there are animals and nature he will embrace it because he loved the outdoors, he loved tradition. He often said it’s not the jersey, it’s the person that wears it. He surely wore it with pride.

RIP – Michael Joe Donnellan, Ballyhenry, Shrule. My Dad xxxx