Lord,
this time last year
pink cherry blossoms floated through the air
like pink snow
and blew into soft, pink piles
along Danny and Dolores’ street.
In Danny and Dolores’s garden
purple blue bells emerged
and the air was filled with bird song.
This time last year
Danny died.
I remember his last days
so clearly.
Sunday morning found Danny
sitting at his kitchen table,
with his ear all bandaged
and a woolly hat on,
busily writing letters and cheques
and discussing how the latest budget
had affected car tax.
Danny was in fine form.
By teatime
Danny wasn’t able to tell
whether it was night time
or morning time
and a family friend, Moya,
who was a nurse,
had to be called.
Danny took to his bed.
Danny spent Monday in bed,
and wanted to know
why his grandchildren hadn’t called
to visit him.
On Tuesday
Danny explained
that he could no longer eat buns
brought from my work.
And Danny met his grandchildren,
giving them their pocket money
and instructing Aoife and Niamh, saying,
“You really should think about
going back to chapel!”
On Wednesday morning
Danny insisted
that Dolores should attend
a dental appointment
at the hospital
and then fretted terribly
during her absence.
When she returned
Dolores lay down beside Danny
and Danny was content.
That night,
a Marie Curie nurse stayed
for the first time.
On Thursday morning
as I walked to work
I received texts from Paul
about how Dolores was chatting away to Danny,
telling him that she and Paul
were his two best friends
(which is true).
Paul also texted to say
that Fr Seán, a family friend,
was on his way
to anoint Danny.
I left work early.
On Friday
I chatted to Danny
as I fed him tiny, tiny spoons of ice cream
that Moya had brought
and I reminded Danny of those times
when I used to call in to see him
after the Mother and Toddler Club
and he would make the dinner for me.
Danny replied,
“Those were the days!”
Those were the last words
that Danny ever spoke to me.
And that evening
Danny had to be moved
into a hospital-type bed.
On Sunday
Danny got the Last Rites
from Fr Robert.
On the bank holiday Monday at tea time
a nurse, Eimear, whispered to Dolores,
that she thought that Danny
had less than 24 hours left.
Before Eimear had left the house,
Danny slipped quietly away
with a wee smile
as Dolores sat by his side,
holding his hand.
Lord,
please bless our wee family
on Danny’s first anniversary
as cherry blossom falls like pink snow
on Dolores’s street
and as blue bells emerge
in Dolores’ garden
while birdsong fills the air.
Lord,
please bless our wee family
on Danny’s first anniversary
as we prepare to hear Danny prayed for at Mass
and as we make final preparations
for Danny’s headstone.
Lord,
please bless our wee family
on Danny’s first anniversary
as we remember a quiet and gentle man
who had unwavering faith
and a deep love
of family, faith and gardening.
Lord,
please bless Danny
on his first anniversary.
May he rest in peace.
© Claire Murray, 2nd May 2015
