The Promise

When I was a little boy, my father used to tell me a story about a giant who made a bridge that crossed the ocean. This giant wanted to fight another giant, but changed his mind. In the end the bridge was almost completely destroyed. I don’t remember much more about how my father told this story, these facts being lost within the depths of the drawers of my memories. But I can remember him telling me that if you could actually sit on the stones of what is left of this bridge, all you needed to do was wish for what you need most in your life and it would come true.

When I asked where this bridge was he told me it was in Ireland, the land from where our family came to Canada many generations ago. I was brought up to be very proud of my Irish heritage and it is the ethnic background with which I most identify. My father always wanted to go to Ireland. But he never did. I suggested he go about fifteen years ago. He said he might just do that, but he feared he was getting too old. I told him that this was nonsense, but he made me promise, whether he made it to Ireland or not, that I would see our family’s homeland. “You understand about history and culture,” he said to me once. “You should go and see where we are from. You will appreciate it more than your brothers.”

I promised him I would go. One day. I found out later that the Dalys are from Westmeath. That, I figured, would be the place to go.

As some of you know, my relationship with my father was a very complicated one. The day would eventually come where I would sever my relationship with him. This was not about anger or hurt, although I was both of these at one time, it was about recognizing that a relationship was toxic and enough was enough for both of us. Two years later my father died.

I don’t regret my decision. Our problems were not about childhood issues. It was about respect, and acceptance, and what it means to be family. Ending the relationship allowed me to forgive my father, and me for that matter. It allowed me to mourn the man who was my father without unnecessary baggage that would have happened otherwise. But one thing kept me from feeling closure.

I never went to Ireland. It was a promise I made to my father and it really mattered to me.

I struggled about whether or not to write about this next bit. It is not a subject I am comfortable with. I don’t think I understand exactly what happened, but I do know it happened…no matter how odd it sounds.

This past winter I had a dream. In this dream I am walking through a very green field and there are stones up ahead in the horizon. I realize that these stones are the end of the green and the beginning of the ocean. I am walking really fast, almost trotting, because I am late. I should have arrived at my destination much sooner.

Then I see my father. He is smiling and telling me to relax. That I am not too late. That I am doing just fine and to stop worrying. I am happy to see him and he seems younger than I remember. He is standing on one of the stones as I approach them. They are not round but straight edged. They are hexagonal or octagonal. I can’t really tell. When I reach the stones I take a deep breath because I have finally reached my destination. My father tells me to sit down.

Then I woke up.

I spoke with Jo and Eric about this. Jo has more experience behind these kinds of things. But it was Eric who figured it out.

This dream happened in the middle of the week. That weekend I was offered this summer job teaching in Europe. This year I was asked to do the England, Scotland and Ireland tour. I was thrilled because I would finally get to Ireland. But I was also disappointed. A visit to Westmeath was not even remotely possible with our itinerary.

When we were talking about my dream (again) during the weekend, Eric thought of The Giants Causeway in Northern Ireland.  The result of volcanic activity, hexagonal shaped pillars of rocks form a series of steps along the coastline. It looks like an uneven stone road reaching out into the sea.

Then I remembered my father’s story about the giant who built a road.

I couldn’t get to Westmeath, but I felt like my father was telling me where the next best location would be.

This week I made it to the Giants Causeway.

We walked down a winding around that led us to this amazing phenomenon. You have a great view of the sea, the cliffs, and, of course, the hexagonal shaped rock formations. People are walking about them and taking pictures. My kids thought it was the coolest thing ever.

For the record, the approach looked absolutely nothing like my dream. But when we got to the bottom and I made my way along the road to a cluster of higher levels juts that was just before another jut I felt like I had seen this part in the dream. This was where my father told me to sit.

So I sat. I sat for a long time and looked around me at the vistas, the people, the rock formations, and the water in between the stones. Eventually I closed my eyes.

I listened to the sea and the birds and the voices of my kids and the sounds of walking all around me.

Then it seemed to get really quiet and I could swear I could smell a hint of sagebrush. There have been a couple of times where I felt my mother’s presence. These are brief and very rare. And they could easily be passed off as a part of my vivid imagination. But this time I felt my father’s presence. It felt like he had sat down beside me and if I opened my eyes and looked to my left I would see him there with his cowboy hat and his boots and that moustache. It was very intense. It was very real to me.

For the first time that I can remember I actually missed my father. I missed talking to him. I missed laughing with him. This felt sad, but it also felt good. It felt right.

Eventually, the inevitable moment arrived and I opened my eyes. The world had returned and I sat there alone. I had fulfilled my promise at last. I had come to Ireland and I had honoured my father. I owed him this. I regretted taking so much time, but I think he would have been okay with it.

As I looked around for my kids, wondering what time it was, I realized that I was sitting on the stones of the giant’s bridge. My Dad said I should wish for something that I needed most in life.

I thought of my friends, my little girls, my chosen family,  my house , my village, my job, and my Eric. And I realized that I had nothing left to wish for.