Visions & Revisions: An anthology of new writing by Junior Cycle Teachers [selected extracts]

Martine O’Brien
was sometimes frustrated. She was often lonely and bored too.
She didn’t drive and had to rely me or the boys for a lift with
the groceries. Sometimes she travelled by bus to town. Having
all the children and minding them put a certain part of her life
on hold in ways. She had talents and not using them stifled her.
However, I did not quite understand that at the time. I didn’t
want change. I was a selfish eejit and wanted things to stay the
same. She looked after the children. I went out to work. We had
a routine. She looked after the house and it kept her busy. We
had a good life in lots of ways, years and years of being together
through thick and thin. Dinner dances, some friends and visits,
day trips and holidays. I will say they are all a little bit like
their mammy, and pick out the traits and similarities. Maybe it
won’t come out right, but I’ll make a good fist of it. I’ll prepare
a speech. I’ll explain how very able she was. Pretty and smiley.
Always singing, kind, creative. People liked her, they found her
easy company. I loved that about her. She attracted people with
her warmth and sense of humour, I got the advantage. When
we married, she stopped working at the airport. That was the
way of the times. She had a very good brain. And the truth
is that she didn’t find it easy to be at home all the time. They
were different times I know. But I was just busy with my own
problems, trying to make money to support a big family. I should
have talked more, listened more, to her, to the children. That’s
what I’ll tell the children, especially Susie, she wants to know.
Maybe that will encourage her to stand up for herself a bit
more, think a bit more about her own situation. Her husband is
turning out to be a little shit. Mary actually helped me see things
differently from what I thought on my own. She brought balance
to my view. The counselling is doing that too. It’s probably a
good thing.
On brighter days, when the sun is out and the birds dance
for me, I can see I’ve been very lucky in my life. I’ve shared
feelings of love with a wonderful woman and my children are
doing fine. We did our best for them, they’re college educated
and had a good start in life. They’re always there for me and they
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know how important they are to me. Seeing the grandchildren
grow into fine young people, sharing traits I recognise, makes
me very proud. That’s more than a lot of people. The past is
fuzzy and though it’s hard to put into words, I have a sense
of Mary about me. I remember little exchanges, things she said.
‘No matter what happens, I’ll always love you,’ she told us all in
different ways before she died. I have the sense that I miss the
feeling I had with her. She was good for my head and loved me
in spite of myself. Funny to be thinking that now, after all these
years.
I definitely miss the hustle and bustle of my family around
me, filling the house. I used to complain about them being
untidy, with their messy bedrooms, lights being left on, and
immersions boiling. Always giving out about them costing me
a fortune. I’d give anything to have it back, just for a while, to
ease my mind. I’d do it better this time. Now and again, when
they’re together, they joke a bit about some of the things I did
and said. The time I put my fist through the door, hammering
on it demonstrating how my own father woke us up. That was
a shocker. Hindsight is a fine thing. But maybe I could have
been more acceptant, less domineering. If I had the chance
anew I’d tell them I was proud of them with generous words.
I’d be curious about them, even try to go to a few matches. That
would show them I was more than just the man who doled
out money from the drawer. That’s what I felt sometimes, and
I resented it. They were all very sporty, talented in different
ways. I’d celebrate the sound of laughter and chat instead of
hiding behind the paper and giving ultimatums. The counsellor
chides me for being so harsh on myself. Over the last few weeks,
he’s been getting me to do some homework, like writing down
the names of people who have influenced me in my life. I’ve
listed my children, my wife, my parents and extended family.
Some friends as well, not forgetting Holy God and Jesus
Christ. Last week he got me to write a list of my achievements
and the silent generosities I don’t talk about. He ordered me to
proudly state aloud, ‘I am significant. I am loved. I am not alone,’
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