Dear Daddy Murphy,
It was with mixed feelings that I went along to your 40th anniversary mass in the Dominican. A sense of shame that I had forgotten you, outside of a Christmas wreath. I sat in a pew and memories washed over me, regrets, stuff I meant to do and never did, things I meant to say and never said. The family was there, my brother and sister, and the Ferrybank side of the family. My daughter, Neva has brought her young son and tiny daughter wrapped up against the world. You didn’t live to meet either of our children, and Kyle is 40 this summer. You would have enjoyed watching him playing hurling.
My grandson, Sam, is moving off down the pew and is looking back for a smile, a grin, a reassurance.
And Dad I am back, a little short-trousered boy with you in the Cathedral – the big chapel- nearly 60 years ago, when you showed me, Jimmy O’Dea and Ursula Doyle, in a pew near us. I am venturing out, down the pew, and I know I am looking back seeking your approval, your reassurance, your smile, your grin and know now, that I am still doing it. Looking back for reassurance.
Thank you Tommy Murphy, my dad. Look at me now.
In loving memory,
Your grown up son,
Liam