I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be sat having English tea and cake with a priest.
But there I was, sat in his front room, surrounded with every book under the sun, that has been written about god, piles of more books on the floor and chairs, mountains of paperwork in every spare space.
It truly was a sight to see.
As I sat and listened to his rambling of god, hoping I wouldn’t miss anything that was important to why I was visiting, I slowly lost the will to live and questioned why I had arranged this meeting in the first place.
I grow up in a strict Catholic home, Rosary always at hand, Hail Mary’s as a constant reminder who was boss.
I will secretly admit I love my Rosary, it has to be one of my most precious processions, I carry it with me all the time. It’s not that I’m a believer but my great-grandmother gave it to me and it’s my link to her. I think she had to be my favourite person Ever until she left this world and was reunited with her beloved husband.
I really did adore her, respected her and loved her as she was my mother, I still miss her every day.
She was also my link to my Irish roots and even though I never met her father (I so wish I had) I feel this connection with him, he somehow calls to me and I need to know his story, hence why I was sat drinking tea and eating cake with a man who is so foreign to me.
Kindly though the priest pulled up every record he could find, trying to make connections that were plainly not there, all the time talking god this, god that.
Hours later, I left with a mound of paperwork, my brain working over time, more confused than what I had been before I arrived.
Faith and I than spent the rest of the day going over all these documents and it just didn’t seem to fit, something just wasn’t right. We became disheartened but determined to find out the truth behind this mans history. He though is proving my hardest challenge yet.
And if that means I have to take a trip to the beautiful country of Ireland, visit the breathtaking County Kerry and lose days searching every record that is available than that is what I have to do.
This man is in my blood, he’s in my heart and most annoyingly in my head, it’s that bad that I even dream of him.
I’ve always been extremely proud of my Irish roots, I just long to know more about them.
Here’s to many happy hours of uncovering my great, great grandfathers secrets.