Sunday 17th of March 2013, saw me witness my first Saint Patrick’s Day without my grandfather. My beautiful grandfather passed away in November last year and it’s been a tough few months since we had to say our goodbyes. This day, a day usually for celebrating and getting rather inebriated, instead filled my mind with sorrow and fresh pain.
What did I do about it?
I went out and immersed myself in the festivities of course. Every single person who wore a shamrock, or one of those little irish hats, or had green on reminded me of my Grandad.
Every. Single. One.
Initially I felt sad, sitting outside one of our local Irish pubs waiting for the Kilkenny to arrive, I watched the young girls and boys perform some irish dancing, I watched the groups of emerald-green clad men and women laugh and enjoy expressing their love for Ireland and all things Irish. I watched and I missed him with every fibre of my being.
I remembered all the good times. I saw in each laughing face the same happiness that he used to possess and in each sparkling set of eyes, the same twinkle that used to shine in his and once the drinks arrived, I raised my (not green) glass of Kilkenny and toasted to my Grandad because I love and miss him more each day.
I hope you had a good Saint Patrick’s Day wherever you were, no matter if you celebrated it or not.