About death

The Girl said yesterday: What happens if you’re dead and it’s your birthday?

My dad in conversation with his brother: ‘Ould Jimmy’d dead. And he’s dead. Is that right? She’d dead too? Ah shite. Oh and you know something else? Mr O’Reilly? Dead.’ This jolly conversation continued for some time.

2 thoughts on “About death

  1. Great. I recognise that conversation – sounds like one my dad had many times too. He also used to retell a story (frequently) about a corpse who sat up in his coffin at a wake. Very likely.


  2. On the same subject – here's a poem you might like/ or not.HooleyIt doesn’t take much to summon youuncles, aunts and you father.Just a tune on the radio – a jigand you’re singing and dancing in my kitchenusing pots and pans to shatter silenceclicking up your heels against the shallow graveswaying to the rhythms and the beats of the drumstippling whiskey and feeling the trickleand flavour of peat, alive on your tonguetelling old stories of wakes and Will O’ the Wisproving the ancient bog-landsuntil the light disappearsand the music ends.Anne Kenny


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