Six weeks ago, I woke up to a flurry of text messages from cousins and other family members. My 93-year-old grandmother had passed away the night before. It was unexpected, but my aunts and uncles in town were able to be with her, hold her hand, and sing hymns over her at the end.
This launched an unexpected next 10 days as I evaluated, Can I go? Should I go? Ultimately, I decided that yes, I would go to the U.S. for the service. Five days later, I had landed in the pineywoods of Texas.
With just a few days’ warning, I didn’t have as much time for mental preparation. I quickly realized I would need to answer the peppy question, “How’s Ireland?” about 20 times. It’s always difficult to distill 10 intense months into a 60-second recap. Fortunately, some of our family has either lived overseas or knows people who have lived overseas and knows that it’s nuanced.
The other reverse culture shock was at surface level: Strip mall after strip mall after strip mall; huge trucks and parking spaces; endless styrofoam; and so much bathroom counter and storage space! Everything you could ever want in one place! When I asked one aunt during the trip if they had recycling, she laughed and shrugging, said, “Welcome to East Texas!”. Two weeks later, Ross also travelled to the U.S. for work and reported back the same sense of disconnect— being back in a familiar place, but feeling like something has shifted.
There’s something about being immersed in a place that roots you and connects you to it. And you often have to get out of the concrete jungle of cities and strip malls to feel it. It’s the soil, the flowers, the shade of the sky, and the song of the birds. It’s plunging your feet into the cold, salty seawater.
On this trip, it was the handful of red dirt and an East Texas rose we grandkids placed on the coffin. Natural elements that could not exist anywhere else.
Here in Cork, I’ve spent hours gardening, watching what grows in our garden beds and trying to distinguish weed from flower. The girls and I have been tracking a couple of snails on the front porch. Every day, we look for them to see where they moved to overnight. We’ve been making daisy chains and watching wildflowers spring up along the greenway.
As many photos that you look at or reviews you read about a place, you just can’t replicate the feel of slow noticing— noticing the humblest elements of nature and touching the earth itself.
Reflecting back on my trip, the graveside service and funeral were lovely. My grandmother had made many of the choices herself, including the casket, speakers, and songs. We shared good memories and stories (she was a personality, so we had lots of those!). Yesterday would have been her birthday, and I ate some ice cream in memory of her.
Ultimately, spending time with family was a gift. I got to see my immediate family and meet my youngest niece. I even got to fly with two of my sisters from London Heathrow! I don’t know the last time I flew with my sisters, let alone without husbands or kids. It was a joy to see aunts, uncles, cousins, and family friends that I may not have seen for several years outside of this visit.
As one generation passes, it reminds me that you just can’t take anything for granted. Every chance to give a hug and pass a cup of coffee— however brief— is a privilege. And sometimes it’s worth it to cross a distance just to touch the earth.
Oh Mandy, you know you are speaking to my heart! Your description was not only personal for you, but could have spoken for me as well. I’m so grateful you and others made the extra effort for family togetherness and celebration of Caca’s big personality. Thank you for sharing these special thoughts and photos. ❤️ you!