So now when people ask me if it is possible to get over the
death of a child, my response is that it is not, but that the
surviving parents and siblings can be peaceful and happy.
That is how I am. I am happy, and have peace of mind. But I
think of Cathal almost every day, even after eighteen years,
and sometimes I feel a deep sadness and a sense of loss. I
think of Cathal because I always remember my family, alive
and dead, in my brief daily prayers, and because the graveyard
where he lies is on the road from my house to Thurles. I rarely
visit his grave. The memory of him, his face and his voice, are
engraved on my heart. Mary, however, finds some comfort in
visiting his grave every Sunday. I know, too, that he is forever
in her heart; she who remained at home from work so that
she would always be there for him and for all our children.