SERVICE stations have become an integral part of life on this island of ours. We plan our journeys around calling into 'the good ones'. We fill up, do the messages, say hello, stop for a chat and head on. How many of us were doing just that in different parts of the country when unimaginable tragedy struck in Creeslough?
From an early age, I have associated the little Donegal town of Creeslough with trips to the Gaeltacht. When the bus turned the corner and headed downhill into Dunfanaghy, that meant three weeks of magic in Machaire Rabhartaigh wasn't far away.
An Craoslach is the gateway to the Donegal Gaeltacht. Anyone I have spoken to this week has stopped in the village service station regularly when they visit the area.
This tragedy has decimated the local community. While the rest of us feel for them, those of us who have never experienced such tragedy have no idea what they're going through, or more importantly, what is to come when the media reports stop and they re-group and begin to look to the future.
We all want to show our solidarity with the families who have lost loved ones in this tragedy. We put ourselves in their place, think of our own families, friends and communities. We empathise with them, and to a point, feel their pain. Moya Brennan from Clannad, who lives a little further along the north west coast of Donegal, spoke to Cormac Ó hEadhra on RTÉ Radio 1 and said that there's a dark cloud over Donegal and that people are in daze.
She could hardly speak, she was so shaken and broken from having been at the wake of James O'Flaherty in Gaoth Dobhair. She spoke eloquently of the wonder of the Irish wake and the incredible comfort that comes from sharing stories with the bereaved and members of the local community over a ham sandwich or a cup of tea.
So many tributes have been paid, beautiful words spoken about the 10 people whose lives were taken so suddenly, without any warning. I'm not sure how much comfort can be taken from anything when such a shock is experienced. The harsh reality will come into sharp focus when the spotlight moves on to something else, which it inevitably will.
Just this summer, I re-kindled my deep love of the Donegal Gaeltacht. Donegal – the place, the people, it's a state of mind really – is a place apart that gives many people solace, comfort and escape. If and when I am next in the area, I will be sure to stop off, remember and continue to support the community in any way I can. It's all any of us outsiders can do.
I couldn't get Paul Brady's version of the Homes of Donegal out of my head this week: "For your hearts are like your mountains in the homes of Donegal." Suaimhneas síoraí ar anamnacha uasal na marbh.
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AFTER hearing about Creeslough, I spent the weekend squeezing and kissing my wee girl, much more than usual. Her third birthday isn't far away, she is forming more impressive sentences and her inquisitive nature and energy continue to be in overdrive.
I can't describe the excitement about Halloween. Halloween equals monsters, moons and pumpkins in our house at present. I have gone from letting the season pass me by to having no option but to embrace it, so infectious is the toddler's enthusiasm.
This cynic never really got into it. I remember turning the lights out and going to the back of the house one Halloween night, in an effort to avoid the 'pesky' trick or treaters. I was Halloween's answer to the Grinch, but not in fancy dress, of course.
Fast forward a few years, and a nearly-three-year-old has lit up my Jack O'Lanterns. That said, I'll not be carving turnips anytime soon, I'll content myself with an Americanised pumpkin for the time being. I'm not driving the Halloween bandwagon just yet – and I will not be setting foot in a pumpkin patch.
I am, however planning a visit to the local Halloween shop for the first time in the 20 years I have lived in the area, and I might even buy face paints and try to dress the child in an imaginative way for All Hallow's Eve. Will I get dressed up as well? That will test just who is the boss in our house...
