IT is one of those intriguing things in life to contemplate how its outcomes depend upon chance encounters.
How would it have been different if we had made this decision instead of that one, if we had not got on that bus or stopped here instead of there?
And if I had not changed jobs all those years ago I would never have met her.
It was the end of 1967 and I was happily employed at Imperial Chemical Industries (ICI) in Kilroot just north of Carrickfergus.
I didn’t need another job but habitually applied for them anyway. And when I was offered a post as a chemical analyst in Michelin Tyres, it was a tough decision to move.
My first day was in the new year of 1968. My bus started outside Robbs in Belfast's Castle Junction and trundled northwards up the Antrim Road to my new employer near Glengormley.
When it stopped at the Waterworks I saw her for the first time.
Her raven hair was cropped short and neatly styled, with a distinctive curl in front of each ear. And she wore a sort of camel-hair blue coat which I would look out for each morning after.
She was called Sarah Theresa (Sheila) Murray and she also worked in Michelin, in the personnel department, although I didn’t know that then.
Much as I eagerly anticipated that stop in the journey each day, my hopes that she might sit beside me were always dashed.
Until one morning it happened. She sat down and I immediately made some comment; I think it was about the weather.
She turned to me and for the first time I was looking into those hauntingly beautiful eyes and the warmest smile I had ever known.
I had never seen such natural beauty before and I knew then that I was deeply in love and my life had changed forever.
And I didn’t yet even know her name, or the purity of her principles or simplicity of her manners.
We were married in April 1970 in Holy Family Church in Newington and had four sons.
Sheila's first mental health breakdown happened after the birth of our second child in 1972. And for many years they were frequent, traumatic and devastating.
Described in those days as manic depression or hypomania, they were treated by ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy), which she had on over 40 occasions.
This debilitating condition is caused by a lithium deficiency in the brain which leads to hyperactivity, sleeplessness, coloured imagination, irrational thought - the brain just races out of control.
Daily medication kept it at bay for many years.
Sheila loved her family and four grandsons, and among her many friends she was adored, and her outstanding kindness and gentleness became legendary.
Unlike myself, she was deeply religious, and was never known to speak ill of anyone.
Once she made tea and sandwiches for a burglar who entered the house when she was alone. Even after he made off with her handbag she refused to speak ill of him.
A strong devotee of the Virgin Mary and Padre Pio, she always looked forward to the Clonard Novena and was a member of the Legion of Mary in Lenadoon. And through the worst of times she concerned herself more with helping others then herself.
She shared with me a particular love for Co Mayo where we spent many happy times with our children. She also had a special love for Knock Shrine and I willingly took her there many times.
Patients with manic depression need supplements of lithium salts along with other stabilizers.
But over a prolonged period lithium damages the kidneys. And after 47 years with up to 10 tablets every day, this critical organ was doomed to failure.
When it happened in December 2018, the urinary infections that followed were devastating and fatal.
Sheila passed away on April 3, at the age of 68. Her friends and family are devastated by the loss. And I have lost a true friend, soul mate and the love of my life.
At her funeral Mass in St Oliver Plunkett Church, the priest said she was the nearest to a saint he had ever known.
I may not share her religious beliefs, but in my grief I am grateful for the absolute privilege of having met and shared most of my life with this gentle and exemplary soul, and I am glad that I took that job in Michelin.
Jack Duffin
