![\"911garden-1024x766\"](\"http:\/\/marianfontana.com\/site\/wp-content\/uploads\/911garden-1024x766-620x463.jpg\")
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The Aer Lingus ticket counter employee hoisted my large suitcase onto the scale, her green uniform straining at the seams.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you have, a dead body in there? \u201d she remarked tying tie a large tag marked \u201cHEAVY\u201d around the handle.<\/p>\n
Actually I did.<\/p>\n
Inside a small Ziploc bag wrapped inside a white cotton shirt, a pale purple scarf and an FDNY t-shirt was my husband Dave, or I should say, a small amount of his ashes. I was returning to Ireland to throw them into the Irish Sea at the bottom of the cliffs of Ballycotton where we had spent the best day of our lives.<\/p>\n
Dave and I had traveled to Ireland four years prior with our son and Dave\u2019s family to attend the wedding of a cousin. The cousin who was from Tipperary was marrying a girl from Cork. The two counties had such historic rivalry in the sport of Hurling that on the day of the wedding the bride wore a red sash for her teams color while the groom wore a blue and yellow tie.<\/p>\n
The wedding lasted most of the week and our son Aidan, who had never seen so much revelry in his short four years danced in his sear sucker suit with anyone who asked.<\/p>\n
The day before we were to return home, Dave\u2019s mom offered to take Aidan so Dave and I could have a rare day alone. Dave\u2019s head hit the ceiling of the car as we drove out of the seaside town of Garryvoe past Ostrich farms that made Dave mumble, \u201cWhat happened to the sheep?\u201d The road ended in an overgrown parking lot at the top of a high cliff.<\/p>\n
Memory saturates itself with color, so the brown in the cliffs that day made them look like the earth turned inside out and topped with the deepest green grass that blew sideways in the wind.<\/p>\n
There was no one around.<\/p>\n
We climbed down cracked cement platforms that were so steep they made our knees crack until we landed on the beach where the rocks made a deafening rumble as they rolled under the waves. There was a cave eroded into the side of the cliff and Dave and I hid in there and made love and while my skin was still tingling from it, I jumped into the Irish Sea, the water so cold, I had to paddle my legs and arms frantically. Dave watched me from the shore laughing. I closed my eyes to sear the memory into my mind.<\/p>\n
After 9-11, The Irish Consulate had generously donated trips to fire families and so at 4 am Dublin time I climbed into the opposite side of a van with my sister, my eight year old son, my friend Jason affectionately known as my gay husband and my friend Merri, affectionately named my lesbian husband.<\/p>\n
Scraping the ancient stone walls with our oversized white van, I drove us for over a week past the serene Galway bay, through County Claire to the majestic Cliffs of Moher.<\/p>\n
\u201cSheep, \u201cCastle\u201d \u201cJesus Sky\u201d \u201cChurch\u201d we yelled as we passed countless cloudy skies where the sun would send shards of light onto the rocky ruins of castles and churches. I drove west to Kenmare finally landing on Dave\u2019s birthday in Kinsale, a small fishing village about twenty-five miles from Ballycotton.\u00a0\u00a0 Merri, whose pub guide had become our bible, chose a large, dark pub on the main street called the Whitehouse with doors painted in a thick and bold blue.\u00a0\u00a0 The pub was mostly empty and we took up a round table in the middle ordering salmon sandwiches.\u00a0\u00a0 I ordered a Guinness in Dave\u2019s honor remembering how he loved sipping the dark, warm beer with a head as thick as whip cream that made a moustache on his upper lip. We used to joke that we were going to the pub to eat a Guinness.<\/p>\n
Aidan returned from the bathroom and leaned his head against me.\u00a0\u00a0 He had been growing so fast these last few months; I was surprised to feel his almost up to my shoulder. I stroked his soft, straight hair and he looked up at me. The sun had left a spray of freckles across his nose and his eyes were wide.<\/p>\n
\u201cI saw Daddy in the hall,\u201d he said. The adults exchanged nervous glances.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s Dad\u2019s birthday so we all feel his presence today,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. I saw him!\u201d He insisted taking my hand and leading me through the dark pub through swinging doors leading to a long hallway painted a pale yellow.<\/p>\n
I stopped short.<\/p>\n
The wall was covered with photographs of firefighters, t-shirts, flags, wake cards and firehouse patches. Dave had loved to collect patches and the firefighters traded them like baseball cards.<\/p>\n
\u201cSee?\u201d Aidan said pointing to Dave\u2019s face on the left.\u00a0\u00a0 It was his favorite photo of himself, the one I used on his wake card. It was from a rope rescue drill in Long Island City. He is suspended on a rope, high up on the towers of a power plant. He wears a red helmet and his dimples are stretched into a smile. I grabbed Aidan\u2019s clammy hand and marched toward the bar where a tall thin man leaned against a cash register reading the Irish Times.<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me? \u201d I asked and he looked up his small blue eyes squinting at me.\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cDo you know how those photos of the firefighters got there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re from Ringfinnan.\u201d He said in a brogue walking toward our end of the bar. He had thick hair that rolled across his head in white waves. \u00a0I stared at him confused. \u00a0\u201cThe hill where the nurse lives.\u201d Noticing my expression, he leaned in. \u201cDid you not know about Kathleen?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head no.<\/p>\n
\u201cKathleen Murphy. She\u2019s a nurse who worked in New York. Her family is from Kinsale. She was working at a hospital on 911 . I forget which one but she was waiting for the firefighters to come in\u2026<\/p>\n
I picture a short, stout woman in white orthopedic shoes.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026but they never did, so she came home and with the help of the town, planted a tree for every firefighter who died.\u201d<\/p>\n
I squeeze Aidan\u2019s hand and he leans on my hip.<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce in a while we get a firefighter in or a family and we hang a photograph or whatever they give me on that wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere is this hill?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s about a ten minute drive up the road.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dave and I had a joke from our first trip to Ireland together. \u201cHow does an Irishman give direction?\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHe doesn\u2019t. He just takes you there himself\u201d<\/p>\n
And so, Mike insisted he take us there, closing the pub with a flip of a sign.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is so nice of you!\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo way outta that.\u201d He replied. I loved Irish expressions, how when Aidan was born Dave\u2019s relatives called him \u201cAbsolutely stealable.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We piled into the van and followed him up a winding road where a low ranch house sat overlooking the Kinsale Valley and Bay. At first glance, the yellowing fields looked more like Tuscany, but the bay dotted with white boats and low cliffs was t pure Ireland.<\/p>\n
A Golden Retriever trotted over and sniffed Aidan\u2019s shoes.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll ring the bell then,\u201d Mike said stepping up to the stoop. I glanced the trees in endless, neat rows.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll be hard to find your husband\u2019s tree since they\u2019re just saplings and there\u2019s so many, you know. \u201c Mike said stepping off the stoop and leading us to the hillside next to the house.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found daddy!\u201d Aidan yelled. Mike and I stopped, noticing Aidan in front of a small tree in the second row. Kathleen had labeled them all with black plastic tags engraved with the names of the firefighters.<\/p>\n
\u201cUnbelievable,\u201d Mike said shaking his head. I took Dave\u2019s wake card out of my wallet and leaned it against his tree. We all held back tears watching Aidan press Dave\u2019s wake card into the dirt.<\/p>\n
We walked through the rows, carefully reading the names until Mike said goodbye and we piled back into the van to drive to Ballycotton to do what we came here to do.<\/p>\n
The sky was overcast, with thick metal clouds making the road much more gloomy than I remembered. We drove in silence until I recognized the small parking lot leading to the path. We formed a line and walked the short trail in silence. I descended the cement platforms to the rocky beach. I closed my eyes remembering Dave\u2019s breath in my ear, the sound of the rocks on the ocean floor quieter than before. \u201cThis is freaking gorgeous!\u201d Merri said picking up one of the gray stones piled below us. Aidan was already at the waters edge throwing smaller stones into the sea. I stepped up next to him picking up a flat rock. I tried to skip it but I couldn\u2019t. I always envied the way my sister and my father skimmed stones making six perfect rings that spread out like an echo, while mine always made a dismal plunk.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have to find the thin flat ones.\u201d My sister instructed Aidan and as they searched for the perfect rock, I reached into my purse, finding the zip lock bag with Dave\u2019s ashes. There wasn\u2019t much left since I scattered some at Jones beach, some in Prospect park and a few at Greenwood Cemetery.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I remember the funeral director shaking his head when I told him all the places I wanted to scatter Dave. He delicately tried to tell me there was hardly any of him found, but I was relieved to have something. I was one of the lucky ones. I fingered the grainy ash in my hands and took a small handful, throwing it into the Irish Sea. The tears blurred my vision as I remembered how Dave looked on the shore that day while I floated in the water that was so cold it made me hold my breath for one, perfect minute.<\/p>\n
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The Aer Lingus ticket counter employee hoisted my large suitcase onto the scale, her green uniform straining at the seams. \u201cWhat do you have, a dead body in there? \u201d she remarked tying tie a large tag marked \u201cHEAVY\u201d around the handle. Actually I did. Inside a small Ziploc bag wrapped inside a white […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-674","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n