The Final Day

As we came back from Loughcrew last night, stopping off in Cavan for a visit to the street festival of music going on, the hostel was brimming with life of the day’s activity. All around us were people getting ready for the next day’s events while we were dreading the following last day. The last full day of being present in Ireland, the last full day of being with our people, and the last full day of our journey bringing with it a sense of bittersweet emotion. Monday will be a day where we visit a few places and then turn the car in at the airport awaiting for our very early flight; the good news is we’ll be home by Tuesday afternoon and sleeping in our big king size bed with our precious kittens and hopefully our daughter in her room.

How can I even begin to summarize the last 40 days of our pilgrimage back? I can state emotions from happiness, to dread, to tiredness and sorrow. I can express visually the journey from the Holy Isle to the Mellifont Abbey. I can relate tales of past troubles, ones perceived by others in our future, and yet they do not even begin to come close to what I want to say. I can say this – I will miss the many people we know, have come to know, and I can say that I will often think of them in my return to our “normal” life.

Sacred. Liminal. They are two words that really describe my feelings, as I awoke so very early this morning, while contemplating the last month and a half. Standing in the cool breeze, as I watched the sunrise and whispered a good morning to the Emerald Isle, I reflected back upon yesterday’s events as we stood inside an ancient place while drumming and singing. Our voices echoed outside as the other tourists wondered what and who it was praising the Earth and beating a heartbeat melody to our ancestors. It was very liminal and sacred to do.

Our friends put together a tent for us to sleep in, Heather and Oak, and laid down sheepskins to keep the ground chill from our bodies. On top they laid out two very comfortable and long blankets and I slept like a rock. I listened to the animals – ducks, chickens, crows, and Jack the donkey – as they sang their natural songs. Before I knew it I was fast asleep only to be awaken by the soft pattering of rain, which didn’t last long, and then as the sun began his slow trek on the morning sky I was up.

I hadn’t been up that early for most of this trip, with the exception of the first week, and yet I could not sleep any longer than that. Sacred. Liminal. These two words hold so much more meaning for me now than before. I think they will resonate with me for the rest of my life as I look for other examples in other places.

The relationships we create become sacred to us and when we are away from those it goes into a sort of liminal state, waiting for us to return, waiting for us to return home.