A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #ireland

Discovering the Matrix of My Soul

I arrived in Ireland feeling so sick from the overnight plane ride that I could hardly wait to get to the hotel room and crash. My family found me there hours later and described me as comatose. Not a great start to a trip of a lifetime, but then again, we know I am not a good traveler.

Albeit a rough first day, the trip was everything and more than I thought it could be. The country is gorgeous, the people are friendly, the rumors of how much drinking happens are all true. We stayed in a hotel in downtown Dublin so walking to shops, bars and restaurants was easy. It was delightful. My favorite part of it was the awareness that our clan all live there in some other life.

It was uncanny how many people we saw that made us take a double look to know they were not our family and friends from Canada. We are shopping in Penny’s, and I see Sandra heading into the make-up section. Before my brain could remind me that Sandra (aka sweetie) passed two years ago, I shouted out, “Sweetie, over here!” This person was a carbon copy. She wasn’t the only one there. We saw family and friends that are no longer here on earth, and some that are still here. It became a game of who we would see next. We agreed that Ireland is our clan’s serene matrix.

A highlight for me had to be the Jameson Distillery tour. We went on our last day. We took ‘the dude’. We went because Zane would love this tour. I wanted to find a whiskey I can enjoy better than the original one we must drink in his honor. The distillery is surrounded by apartments overlooking the courtyard. I smiled. This is where Zane would be living. The energy of this place had me in tears from the first step inside the door.  The tour itself was divine.

When learning of the process and history of Jameson & Son, we were told that each bottle label has the phrase “Sine Metu”. It means without fear.  Zane’s friend had taught him “wo bu pa” to which Zane shared with his friends. He loved the phrase, which is about “I am not afraid.” The similarity of the Irish phrase had our jaws drop.

At the end of the tour, we shopped for souvenirs and a bottle to bring home. I was drawn to a brand of Jameson’s called Method & Madness. It was another term Zane used a lot. A young woman who worked there came up beside me and I asked about this brand. She told me that it was the whiskey that changed her mind about all whiskeys. She first tried it seven years ago. Her favorite is Hazelnut. It has been seven years since I have held Zane.  Hazelnut was Zane’s coffee favorite, as is mine. I was sold. And then she said her name was Rachel (the name of a girl that Zane had loved deeply). I threw my arms around her. She had no idea why I was hugging her.  Why I was crying. She just hugged me back and said, “I promise you will enjoy this”.

Ireland brought us together with friends who showed us their homeland. It gave us glimpses of loved ones who are no longer with us, but reassurance that they are not gone. It gave us a connection to our own roots, our heritage and why we live with the attitude that there is always time for “one more shot”!  This trip gave me the comfort that for each of us, there is a liminal place where we will be rejoined with those we love and miss. For me, it is Ireland.

Gratitude goes to my daughter who insisted I take this trip with her as a gift from her brother and her.  Apparently, it is something they had wished for, to which she says she can now strike off her own bucket list.

Bucket List Bound

When I was a young girl, I was fearless. I jumped off higher ledges than any boy. I drove the go-karts faster than anyone else. I fought for the underdog without any thought I too would be beaten up. I loved to explore everything. I had dreams of far away countries to visit. And then I grew up.

Adulthood, specifically motherhood, brought the realization that I was not invincible.  I now had little people counting on me. I had to be safe. I had to be careful. If there were glimpses of maybe I could be more daring, they were shattered when Zane was killed. His death glued me to the belief that nothing can happen to me because my family really needs me now. It’s not ego that this comes from.  It is pure fear.

So, this upcoming trip to meet my husband and daughter in Ireland has me scared. I hate to travel, but I am now travelling alone, over the ocean. Anxiety is at an all-time high. Nothing about airplane safety, the reassurance from my friends, or my brain telling me it’s going to be ok is comforting.  I asked my Guides for signs. I need spiritual convincing that this trip will be a beautiful earthly experience.

I was cleaning out a box of old journals and one book drew me into opening it and reading some of the passages I wrote from decades ago. Included in it was a bucket list, and on this list was to own a VW beetle. I smiled, remembering the time after that list, when I was looking for a car and wanted a beetle, but it was impractical. It wouldn’t fit my multiple event supplies, or the kids golf clubs. It was Zane who said, “mama, you have always wanted this car. It’s on your bucket list. Get the damn car. Dad can drive our clubs.” I bought the car. It was the same car that I drove all over Alberta and Montana in. It was the same car my children learned to drive in. It was a bucket list item I loved, no regrets.

I continued reading the list. It was simple, motherly things like a home my children felt safe in. A quiet afternoon to enjoy nature. To write a book. And to visit Ireland. I stopped. Ireland? Where did this come from? I don’t remember writing down Ireland. I laughed out loud. 

I think my spirit guides are playing with me. What better sign than to stumble across an old diary page that tells me I wanted to see Ireland. I’m off to Ireland. And I believe with the blessing of the Universe to have a safe and magical holiday.  As only the leprechauns of this fair emerald country can bring.

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