by A Symphony Of Flavour
“His hands were gentle, and his hands were strong…”
The day before Colm died, he asked me to bring him down to the oratory. That previous week, he had spent a lot of time down there. On this particular day, he was insistent. So I wheeled him down and told him I’d be back in a bit. A bit passed, and I went to get him. When I opened the door, he greeted me with a huge smile. A smile that indeed triggered a memory in my subconscious.
That memory took place when I was 13 years old and we had just moved into Hempfield Close. A warm Saturday greeted me as I awoke and I decided to go into Charlie Cullen’s for a magazine and some fizzy cola bottles. To reach Cullen’s, the Breen’s house was en route. I could hear a worn, bur contented voice singing “In…
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