Covid-19 flashback as Leitrim loses another chieftain

In 2009 I dislocated my knee requiring major surgery forcing me to move back in home with my parents.
I was pretty much house-bound for four months – ‘cocooned’ to use the parlance of the times. I was in a straight leg brace for 12-weeks post-surgery, unable to drive and unable to work. Unable to do anything much, bar some very basic rehabilitation exercises.
I had been told football, the biggest passion in my life at the time, was a thing of the past. I had recently broken up from a seven-year relationship and was really hurting from that loss. In short, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Throw into the mix that I suffer from a condition known as ‘perpetual motion’. My inability to sit still is both a blessing and a curse. Up to that point in my life, my main method of dealing with stress had always been exercise. Now that it had been taken from me, I was forced to sit and ponder. And stew a little. And ruminate. And meditate. And question the decisions I had made in my life. And try to ask the right questions about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. And then ponder some more.
While at the time there were some dark days, I now look back on the period with gratitude.
I got to spend some quality time with my parents, both of whom were growing older. Dad had ten years on mum, but up to that point he still seemed pretty bullet proof. He had swatted away a heart attack and a stroke like clegs on a summer’s day.
His appetite for destruction was regularly whetted by the hint of a decent wake. But he could now see the bottom of the well from whence he drew his once endless energy.
We spent many evenings sitting in the kitchen, he beside the range, just talking. I mined him for old stories about his early life and days gone by. When he died just two years later, those casual evening conversations became ever more poignant and I remain grateful for them.
Mum, thankfully, didn’t mind having to ‘mother’ her 34-year-old son back in 2009. And I must admit, I wallowed in her care. The day you’re too old for some motherly love, you’re cooked.
We really reconnected during that period – I hadn’t lived for an extended time in the house since I was 18, although I would have spent a lot of weekends there.
I read a lot during my period of rehabilitation – books mainly supplied by mum’s visits to the thrift shop or library. She is currently working through her extensive back catalogue. We never thought she’d read all the books she has amassed, lining the walls of the house. But Covid-19 is causing us to rethink a lot of things. And causing a lot of people to do things they never thought they would.
These past three weeks mum has been forced to self-isolate and cocoon, like many older people and other persons vulnerable to Covid-19 (especially those with an underlying illness) across the county and country.
We’re fortunate to have so many family members living near the homestead. My younger brother Stuart (a teacher in Drumkeerin NS) and his wife Johanna and their three children, Alfie Joe, Eli, and Amber, built a beautiful house at the bottom of the lane, and are mum’s main points of human contact. Even if she can only watch from her porch as her grandchildren play in the yard.
Like everyone, we’re trying to keep the numbers and contact to a minimum to keep any risk of Covid-19 contraction to a minimum too. I think she’d be lost without the three dogs, Twister, Shaggy, and Vanille, though. Especially now that EastEnders has been cut back to twice a week.

Social media in and of itself was never the problem. It is how people choose to use it that is often problematic.

Mum has become quite adept on her smart phone, so video calls are a great way to keep in touch from Dublin.
I often wondered about the true value of social media. Now it has become vividly apparent. Social media in and of itself was never the problem. It is how people choose to use it that is often problematic.
There’s still no shortage of arseholes on it, and lots of misinformation, and we keep reminding mum that not everything you read on Facebook is factual news. But social media has helped to foster and maintain connections in a time of social distancing. I hope it is helping to keep you connected to your loved ones. But don’t forget to first connect with yourself.
This crisis has brought many challenges. Many livelihoods have been lost and businesses closed with precarious futures ahead. Many lives have been lost.
Particularly challenging, to my mind, is the restrictions placed on those grieving lost loved ones. We Irish do death well. The Irish wake is a tradition that carries much meaning and resonance. We Regans have experienced the cathartic nature of family, friends, and neighbours, gathering to both celebrate a special life cut short and a long life well-lived.

What a sad time for such a special person to go

When I heard of the passing of Ben Lennon, I thought what a sad time for such a special person to go. Can you image the celebration of life and music that Ben’s wake would have brought? But I also thought that it wasn’t unlike the man to slip away quietly. He appeared to live his life quietly, without any great fuss, not seeking acknowledgement of his great gifts and talent. I hope Ben’s family find solace in the legacy his music has left behind, but also in the impression he made on everyone he met. When my father died, Ben wrote us a card noting that north Leitrim had lost its Chieftain. It has lost another one now.
The time will come when Leitrim folk can gather again and will do to mark this great man’s passing. Just as the time will come when we can all reach out and hug those nearest and dearest to us and extend the hand of friendship to strangers. In the meantime, remember, you can’t save time, you can only use it wisely. Use this time well.
Liatoim abú.