indigotima of the world unites: Ciarán James Garry

there's been a death... another one... it's ciarán...

(was he ill?)

does it make it better if he was? does it make it easier? does it make it less unexpected? I suppose it should, but it doesn't really. not really.

my wife's baby brother, my bruv-in-law, died of cancer

(cancer?! surely you're not surprised then...)

on Sunday.

except not from the cancer because everything was fine, curable, going as expected...

he was best man at a wedding on thursday, buying toys and preparing for da jung and juni to come spend the rest of his treatment time with him on friday, on the phone arranging for his fiancée to get past immigration at heathrow on sunday, and in the car on the way to pick her up when he collapsed...

(did he crash? did he know it was coming?)

he pulled over, just felt weak, and collapsed. they couldn't help him, and the police had to collect da jung at the airport...

the world stopped... it should have stopped... just for a moment before it implodes and discovers recreation,

without Ciarán

(how's sinéad?)

she's not a big sister anymore...

she's a little sister to a brother who's only just returned to ireland after ten years in america... he got his green card just in time...

(thank gracious, a blessing ...)

to be able to come back to ireland to visit his father in the hospital and to bury his baby brother.

(how was the funeral?)

three days. three days of the world on pause. three days of people giving time, extra beds, shepherd's pies, money, flowers, cards, tears, and love...

three days of holding each other.

three days of coming together.

three days of losing someone we don't think we can live without.

i love you, ciarán. i miss you.