After dinner I sat by the fire looking at my watch, and
counting the minutes to the time that the accident had
occurred. At 3 o’clock I said to myself that at that time
last Sunday Cathal had only two hours to live, that he
had been at the bridge chatting to his friend P.J., and
was enjoying the sunshine, oblivious to the fact that
within an hour he would be lying unconscious on the
road, the victim of a cruel accident, and that within
another hour he would be with God. It was totally
unbelievable. I followed the hands of the clock as they
remorselessly moved on. There was no way of putting
that clock back. My eyes remained on it until four and
the tension eased a little when the hands moved beyond
that hour.
Extract from When a Child Dies. Footsteps of a Grieving Family. Published by Veritas
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