northern ireland | The Memories Project

Dad would have turned 91 today. This is the earliest photo I have of him, taken at school and addressed to his beloved mother.

Such a serious young man, with his whole life ahead of him.

Dad didn’t have an easy life, but I’m sure while his feet were planted in the grass of his beloved Belfast, Northern Ireland, he never thought he’d live in sunny Los Angeles. His journey as an immigrant shaped his life, but he never forgot home.

At the end of his life, while in the final stages of Alzheimer’s, he talked about returning home, to see his sisters. We were able to honor his wish, in a way. Some of his ashes were sent to his family in Belfast.

Celebrating the Irish spirit

My father was fiercely proud of his Irish heritage, but was not a fan of the commercialized St. Patrick’s Day festivities. As I grow older, the more I appreciate the culture of my Irish ancestors: resilient, creative, and brilliant storytellers who can tell the funniest of jokes and sing the saddest of songs and care deeply for family and country.

Of course, there is a darker side to every culture and I witnessed my father struggle through what he called “black” moods of depression and over-indulging in alcohol. I touch upon this in my book, The Reluctant Caregiver. But his love of his hometown of Belfast, Northern Ireland and his hopes of a united Ireland never wavered. In fact, in the last conversation I had with him just a month before he died, deep in the fog of dementia, he told me he wanted to go to Ireland.

So I will raise a toast to Dad with some Irish whiskey tonight and continue my exploration of my Irish heritage.