My First Joy Filled Memory

There are some defining moments in your life that become that clear split of the “before” and “after,” if you will. For me, it’s “with mom” and “without mom.” (And by that, I mean her physical presence.) I have many joy filled memories with my mom, but until yesterday there were none without her.And yet, I’m crying more while writing this post than I have with any others.

Last night, there was a mass offered for my mom at our home parish, St. Vincent de Paul. Luckily, James and Tori’s Spring Breaks overlapped and they were both home. Thankfully, I overcame a stomach bug and was able to make it home, too. We all made it to church. Together. In our Irish sweaters.

We returned home and as the corned beef was finishing up in the Crock Pot, Irish music was played, and we all sang along…

 

Alive, alive, oh,

Alive, alive, oh,

Crying “Cockles and mussels,”

alive, alive, oh

And you know what? I did feel alive. I felt alive, happy, joy filled, and proud to be a Finnegan. We sat long, we talked much, and we laughed often. She may not have physically been there, but I’m sure her spirit was right there with us because she wouldn’t have been anywhere else in the whole wide world or universe.

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