In The Name Of My Father Final Chapter:41
A grandmother meets her granddaughter
The last of the afternoon coffee aficionados were gradually dissipating when Sara and Jean arrived, right in the midst of an unseasonal dump of rain. The downpour was making its mark on people, umbrellas behaving badly in the wind, women pulling up collars in an effort to protect themselves, and shivering in the dramatic fall of temperature.
Ailsa arrived some ten minutes later, trying in vain to protect her hair, and it occurred to Sara that when it rains, O’Gradies should just go with the flow, especially with curls whose determination far surpasses any human ability to control.
In her arm Ailsa held the largest bouquet of flowers.
Leaving her sodden umbrella on the veranda, she stepped cautiously through the door.
“Oh!” Jean gasped. “Oh my goodness!” she whispered, as tears threatened to well up in her eyes. “That is her, isn’t it?”
“It is…and believe me she’s as nervous as you are!” Sara said sternly, “so cut her some slack, Mother!”
And leaving her mother, Sara walked quickly to the door, gave her new niece a kiss by way of welcome, and guiding her by the elbow towards her mother, she said, “I’d like to introduce you to the latest addition to our family, Mom. Meet your brand-new granddaughter.”
Not a word was said as the two embraced and held each other for what seemed a very long time, tears, many tears, sobs and gulps, words that their tongues couldn’t speak, were shed, as each held their version of a story that spanned three decades.
And time stood still.
In respectful silence.
Save for the tick, tick, ticking of the large Toscano Gears clock on the wall.
But eventually Jean reluctantly tore herself away.
“What a fine young lassie you are!” she whispered eventually in her Scottish brogue. “I think…I think you have to be the reason I am still alive. I’m sure of it. You and I were meant to cross paths.”
“You think so?”
“I do, but how,” Jean asked, looking at the two women in astonishment, “how on earth has all this worked out? One whole vast planet, that I have only scraped the surface of in my life, so many countries, rivers and seas, hills and valleys to cross…and a whole bank of people to sift through…to be honest a needle in a haystack bears no resemblance to this mission in terms of difficulty,” she rambled, “and somehow, YOU manage to find US. How in heaven’s name does that work?”
“Yes, it’s hard to imagine, isn’t it! I’m still pinching myself. To be honest I was so scared by the enormity of everything I needed to do that I almost didn’t do anything. I had no idea of where to start, or how I might find you when I started out, but let’s put it this way. Next time anyone has a go at Facebook, remind them of how it could be better used.
“I truly believe that the universe has a plan for all of us,” Ailsa sniffed, struggling to find a tissue from her purse. “The fact is that I didn’t work as hard as I thought I’d have to, to make this happen, but somehow, amongst the relentless cacophony and frenetic busyness in the world, some force was carrying me in its wings. You’re right. It’s just so hard to believe,” she said looking at Jean and Sara with wonder.
“But now we have found each other,” she whispered. “How exciting is that! AND” she said, stringing out the last word, “you can thank my dad for encouraging me to find my roots. But for him I might never have found the courage.”
“Your father had much to lose when you think about it,” Sara joined in.
“In my teen years he might not have agreed with you! But these days, I think he would…lots to lose, but then, so much to gain. In so many ways he’s a risk-taker and my greatest model. He’s the one who taught me to reach for the stars…and more…would you like to meet him?” she asked, as she waved to where an older man stood awkwardly, framing the door.
“This,” she said to Jean, as she guided him to the table, “is my wonderful dad, John.”
“Thank you,” was all her grandmother could say, as she wrapped him in a long, uncharacteristic Scottish hug.
There were no words.
They could come later.
An O’Grady baptism…or something more memorable?
Excitement had breathed new life into Jean as she gently forged a relationship with Ailsa. Regret for years lost had to be tossed aside in order to make the most of the present.
But she was troubled.
The last family celebration was the dinner to commemorate her and Paddy’s life, and their plan to exit this world. How wonderful the dinner had turned out! And though it hadn’t gone to plan, she would always look back on the night as one where family was everything, full of laughter, reminiscing, and fun, one where Paddy was in charge…totally at peace with how his life had run, and how he thought it would end.
She’d have to tell Ailsa about it…one day!
Memories are the glue that binds our lives together, and though she had no doubt that Ailsa would be welcomed into their family, Jean felt the need to mark it in ceremony, and in some way, formalize it.
“What do you think?” she asked Sara one night. “It could be a family party in the botanic gardens…just a little ceremony…an O’Grady baptism that we all plan together.”
“I’m not sure that Ailsa would be into baptisms.”
“I appreciate that, but I can’t think of another word right now.”
“Okay…spit it out!” Sara sighed, noting that her mother’s mind was still blazingly strong enough to put out the fires of hell.
There was no way Sara could discourage her and so, they settled on the nearby gardens for the picnic. Just as nature is an enduring masterpiece, so too is family, they decided. It would be a perfect setting.
Ailsa had been invited with her family, and with the freedom to choose all of those who, in recent times, had become her inspirational compasses, helping to guide her to her father’s family, and picking her up whenever her courage wavered.
As she took in the increasing number of relatives on her new family’s side, she was glad she had invited ‘all’ of hers, scant in number as they were!
Jean chose to speak when she was sure that everyone had arrived. Though nervous, she was determined to have the first few words.
“Today,” she said, “I am the richest woman alive, and that is because I have each and every one of you in my life, some biologically linked through our DNA, yet, like the branches of a tree, though we stem from the same roots, we often travel in so many different directions.
“But the true markers of family answer these questions. Will you be there for me when the going gets tough? Will you stand by me when I’m in need? Will you hold my hand on that last, but vital stage in my life when I am frail? Would you be there for me in my darkest hour?
“This is often why friends too, become our chosen family. They are also the ones who would move heaven and earth to see us smile. They want and choose us as a friend for a whole gamut of reasons, and we, in turn, choose them. Such relationships are unflinching and eternal.
“And then there are the ones that magically find us, and sneak right into our hearts as if they had always been there.
“As many of you know, when Alistair died, a whole lot of me, died too. I thought I could never again enjoy living. My girls will tell you that in his short life my boy enjoyed so much more love simply because he was the only boy. To some extent that is true, but not as much as the girls would allege. My love for Alistair had to do with that mother-son relationship that so many of us here can relate to, but maybe not fully explain.
“So, who would have thought that almost thirty years later, he would return to me in the form of Ailsa? Not only has she filled the void that Alistair’s passing brought, but she has, with the help of others with us today, sensitively tied off the loose threads of Alistair’s dying. Though shocking, and confronting, knowing how he passed away is a comfort to us.”
“Thank you for that Ailsa,” added Sara, thinking that her mother might stretch out her speech till the sun had gone down! “And we also thank you John, for encouraging your daughter to find us. That was a bold and generous suggestion.
“We are a pretty diverse mob and no doubt it will take some time for you to work us all out. We squabble, we disagree on issues, we party, we help each other out, and though we walk in and out of each others’ lives, we try always to be there for each other when necessary, for that’s what family is all about, bound by ties that bend and stretch and twist, but are always there, even when the going gets tough.
“That’s what family is…a tribe of people who, for the most part, make you feel the best you, that you can be, the ones that suddenly reappear when you most need them, who help you turn that tight corner on the road, the ones that you thought you could never negotiate, who, despite distance, hold you dearly in their hearts.
“I’d like to introduce you to Cam, Father Cameron to be correct. Cam was one of Alistair’s closest friends in the seminary. He was also the one who laid him to rest. We always saw Cam as part of our tribe, and then we lost touch after Alistair’s death, and it’s only through Ailsa, that he has come back to us. I’ll bet that tie that bound us Cam, is taking a well-earned rest!
“But all joking apart, Cam has asked if you would be willing to participate in a little activity that he has prepared, one that supports the notion that, if we are meant to reconnect, we will. Now, there are no prizes for getting there first, but we’d like you all to take a seat by the duck pond where we have organized some chairs.”
Cam stood in front of the group, pausing until everyone was in focus, and began his talk.
“Many years ago, as a very young priest, I had reached one of those bends in the road that Sara talked about. I was in a very bad place where I could share my sadness with nobody, and so, I took some study leave in order to think things through.
“I elected to undertake my study many miles from home, and church, in order to free my mind from interruptions, persuasions and digressions. On my first night of what I will refer to as freedom, I stumbled upon a friend, someone I knew well during my training, someone I would never in the wildest of dreams have imagined bumping into.
“Over the evening we cracked open a couple of bottles of red, shelving the vow of poverty for a night. Yep! We don’t always hold true to our promises,” he laughed, “and I’ll tell you this. It was worth a few days in purgatory, because we gradually opened up to each other about our very similar fears and doubts. It was just what we both needed.
“As the night wore on we marveled at the absolute serendipity of our meeting in a place many miles away from our parishes and even further from our respective families, but at the same time we wondered. Who was it who had directed our paths to cross in such a manner? The fact is that we had both gone to incredible pains to ensure we could maintain our anonymity.
“But then Felix,” he said, looking towards him, “reminded me of a Chinese saying that we both had read of. It goes something like this.
There is a scarlet thread that is the thread of love, but it’s invisible, its job being to connect people who are destined to meet at some time or other. On our life’s journey, the thread may get tangled and warped, or stretched to its limit, but it can never be broken. It doesn’t matter what people do in life, leave home and travel to the far side of the world, marry and move away from family, or simply choose to live like a monk, the thread will withstand the demands, and remain intact.
“Now the more you think about the serendipitous nature of life and the tapestry of events that play out for all of us, the more comforting and credible it is to accept the lifeline of the thread.
“Let’s look at it this way. How is it, for instance, that even in the relentless busyness and demands of living, we can connect with another soul, just at the right time? Is it plain luck, or is there a way of the universe stepping in to engineer the union and the comfort of two needy individuals?”
Cam waited…a brief pause in case someone needed to comment.
“Take Ailsa, for instance. What were her chances of meeting up with her biological family?
“Or how miraculous was it that Sara and Richard just happened upon a man on the other side of the world, who just happened to rent a gîte in the same complex as they did, who happened to have the same surname as Sara, who happened to mention a Facebook posting to her?”
The murmurs within the group allowed Cam to press on.
“You see that’s the charm of serendipity, that accidental stumbling upon something too wonderfully coincidental, too mind blowing to be believed, especially when you’re not even looking for it!
“Sara was searching for some healing. There’s no doubt about that, but then something far more powerful found her, and she felt the urge to pursue a tenuous lead that most of us would have laughed at, and through that she found Ailsa.
“The result of that came the healing that she so desperately needed, and it’s the very reason we are all here today. Whose amazingly-grand plan was that?
“I am truly humbled by how this has played out and it’s the reason why I couldn’t let this union of people, some of whom, only a few weeks ago, knew nothing about each other, be little more than the picnic that it might have been.
“This was all meant to be. Whether you are religious or otherwise, we can hardly deny the miracle that it is. We are all changed for being here, and so, I beg a little indulgence from each of you, one that will allow me to seal this gathering. What do you think?”
The hum of consent allowed him to continue.
“Now, I have in this basket, many not-so-invisible balls of wool, one for each of you. With them, we are going to create a web of life, and all you have to do is ensure your ball connects and is held, by everyone present. Let me demonstrate.”
And so the activity began with people scrambling to retrieve strands, laughing, joking, despairing, and accepting offers of help, until everyone was part of a somewhat messy, but hugely-colorful, and ever-so-complicated web.
Nothing was lost on the group, the complexity, in no small way, symbolic of the enormous tangle of life that somehow, as people, we navigate and manage to make sense of, each and every day. In a respectful silence they now stood, as Ailsa, under Cam’s instructions, cut and bound each person’s collection of strands, and tied them in a bow with a blue, green, and gold striped ribbon, symbolizing Australia, Scotland, and Ireland.
But suddenly the now babbling, gossiping group intuitively quietened, as two men stepped forward.
“Too late are we?” Ailsa heard the voice as she cut the last of the ribbons, and turned to see Alistair walking towards Jean, with his father.
“Jean O’Grady, I presume,” he said, as he tapped her gently on the shoulder. “I just had to gate-crash this party…Dave Stafford. Do you remember me?”
The whole world stood still as Jean tried to grapple with things…a familiar face…a name she had known…a voice that registered in her brain…and then she looked at the younger man beside him…and back to Dave, and then it struck her!
“Aye,” he said. “There are a few more wrinkles and a wee bit less hair. Do you remember that biblical quote…’thy face was beautiful before but in this journey it has lost all its beauty’? But inside Jean, I’m still the same Dave. How are you my love? It’s so good to see you.”
“Oh my goodness, of course…now I remember! What in heaven’s name are you doing here? Is it just my world that seems to be shrinking?” she asked, looking around in bewilderment.
“I think we all feel that at times Jean. Let me introduce you to my son Alistair. He was named after a best friend I once had.”
“Really? So good to meet you,” she choked, “and what a compliment, to be named after…after my son I presume.” The very mention of his name brought floods of tears to Jean’s eyes as the pair shook hands.
“I never really got over losing his friendship”, Dave added,” and so, when Alistair was born with the same shock of black hair, his fate was sealed.”
“It’s a fine Scottish name…one to be proud of! But I’m a wee bit confused. How come you are here?”
“Well”, Alistair replied, rescuing his father, “I’m a doctor and I met Ailsa’s father John in hospital when he was sick. I was his surgeon.”
“You’re not a heart surgeon by any chance? This might all be a wee bit more than mine can cope with…so it was John who invited you today?”
“Not exactly…in fact, he probably knows nothing about it. The truth is, Ailsa invited us. I met her initially through John, and then once again on a flight to meet up with my two children and….” he struggled, looking helplessly at Ailsa with a hangdog ‘rescue-me’ look in his eyes, one she had witnessed in the past.
“Yes you are late,” she said, “and I’m sure you have a shaggy-dog story of an excuse, but I suppose it’s something I need to get used to…if he ever works up the courage to ask me to marry him, that is!” she said, looking straight at her grandmother. “How else are we going to provide all those ten grandchildren my mum used to hope for, for you?
“You know,” she said, threading her personal wad of wool strands through the strap of his wrist watch, and before anyone else had a chance to respond, “Today has emphasized that the present is all we are guaranteed. Tomorrows we can hope for, dreams we can plan for, but you can’t plow a field by turning it over in your mind. The fact is that things can change in the blink of an eye, and opportunity is lost, and though I may regret this in the morning, I’ve decided that all game plans are off.
“And so” taking Alistair’s hand, and leading him center stage, (give or take the lack of stage), “in front of this wonderful group of people who are now forever tied by threads of experience, and some other power that we are yet to find a name for, let me ask you this,” she said, looking daringly at Alistair, “and before you answer,” she warned, “please note that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” (It would probably be the first and last time she would daringly kneel on bended knee!)
“Alistair Stafford, will you do me the honor of being my husband?”
