Long lost family reunited at the Blessing of the Graves

Another heart-warming story from Gerard Smith in his latest WordSmith column...

As humans we have an innate need to know where we come from. The popularity of TV shows like ‘Who do you think you are?’ and soaring sales of ‘Ancestry DNA Kits’ attest to this.

This time of year I’m made acutely aware of ‘Root-Searchers'. They arrive in Cavan, hopeful they’ll find a greater sense of their identity in the Breifne County; and perhaps a piece of home.

Their first port of call is often the Johnston Central Library. They approach the front desk to enquire; many are American, their pronunciation of Cavan townlands never fails to make me smile, warmly.

Back in June, two striking gentlemen strode into the library and approached myself and a friend. They were in Cavan searching for long lost relatives. They asked for directions to Cullies Graveyard. Their question spun me into a tizzy, I’d forgotten I was due to lay flowers on my relatives resting place in that very graveyard. Since I didn’t have the flowers, I rushed out to buy them, thus didn’t get to hear the gentlemen’s story. That said, I saw in their gentle demeanour, a determination and fierce focus to find their forebearers.

Now, come with me to the Blessing of The Graves at Killygarry. My parents and maternal grandparents rest there. Their annual grave blessing has become a much-loved pilgrimage for my brother and I. We’re acutely aware of the dwindling numbers who stand by our family plot every year. For this reason, the event is extra special; it’s important to attend for as many years to come, for we are: The Last Bastions.

This year, the priest at Killygarry articulated the uniqueness of the event when he announced, “We, along with Mexico, are the only countries that celebrate this Sacred-Day.”

His words prompted a song to pop into my head, “If you close your eyes and let the music play, I’ll never ever fade away… remember me.” An apt soundtrack for the day that was in it. It's from the 2017 Pixar film, Coco, the plot of which is based around Mexico’s ‘Day of the Dead'.

In Mexico, it’s a national holiday, wherein people remember their dearly departed by eating their favourite foods while talking fondly of them. After the Killygarry blessings, I enjoyed a bowl of dad’s favourite food, trifle with extra cream, while talking about our dearly departed family members. I firmly believe in the adage ‘People never die when they live on the lips of the living.’

I like how us Irish do death, from the wake, removal, and the immediacy of the burial/cremation; to the soup and sandwiches, accompanied by affectionate eulogising, afterwards. My father’s send-off will remain a happy memory for me; the display of love and affection for him was a great source of comfort and joy. And more so, it was a reminder of where I come from and to whom I belong. When I stand at my relatives' respective graves, I feel rooted.

Now, let’s go back to Cullies. My paternal grandparents and uncles rest there. It was a grey June afternoon for their blessing, yet thankfully dry. Cars parked along the bypass, stretching a good kilometre plus from the graveyard. People walked carrying pots of flowers. On arrival at my family graves I was delighted to see my uncle and cousins already in attendance – the blessings began.

Mercifully, the rain stayed away. At the end the clouds gave way to blue sky, prompting the priest to announce, “Thank you all for putting out your Child of Prague’s last night.”

And through the resultant laughter, I looked up; and saw the two gentlemen from the library. They were standing in front of a plot close to my family’s.

The sight of them made my heart soar. For although I didn’t hear their story, I saw its end; and it looked like a happy one. I didn’t talk to them, they had many to talk to – they had found their roots. Watching them connect with new-found relatives was a joy to behold.

I left the graveyard with a spring in my step having witnessed a joyous moment.

The gentlemen were not from Cavan, yet it was clear in their easy graveside manner and exultant chatter, they’d found a piece of home in the Breffni County.