I sit under a flowering spring dogwood trying to forget, but wanting to remember. I'm supposed to be reading the translation of the Summa Theologia I brought with me. However, I only read a few pages because I am quickly distracted by a horde of people walking around in green from the festivities of last night. I can't stop thinking about you. Yesterday at Mass a man with an Irish accent bellowed the word Alleluia in the middle of Lent. The Priest quickly interrupted him and gave him a blessing. You would have laughed, and I would have started howling because you were. We would have needed to excuse ourselves before we got in trouble.

I felt uneasy the rest of the evening--trying not to run into people wearing Guinness t-shirts or green shamrocks is hard on March 17th. Later that night I got dragged to a party that brought you back to me no matter how hard I tried to keep you locked away. I conversed with a clan of tie-wearing seminarians who shared the Mc suffix and spotted skin I inherited from you. A friend startled me out of my weird contemplation when he called my full name from behind. I must have looked like I'd seen a ghost.

Surrounded by merry faces, I sat on the old floor waiting for a show. Dominicans and friends sang the songs I used to hear with you. Father Joseph even played the spoons. Holding back sad laughs I clapped and stomped my feet. Girls glowed with the silly happiness the day brought and danced the Ceili steps you were always mesmerized by. I watched them do calculus with their feet and couldn't contain my big toothy smiles. 

I snap back to today’s reality as a cold gust of wind rustles through the blossoms, rather magically bringing some down to meet me. This time last year you were 90 lbs and just grateful for any day I could find the time to call–I should've done that more. I reach into my wallet and pull out the cigarette I got last night. I hold it in my hands knowing that I'll never light it. I only like them because you did. 

I raise it towards the clouds and I tell my prickly old Irishman Happy St. Paddy’s Day with a tragic grin on my face. Go outside and spend some time being that sweet sort of happy-sad under a tree. Then make sure you call the people who want to hear your voice.

April 2023