My father-in-law had a mild stroke on Friday. He's wobbly on his feet now, and his sight is blurry, but the most aggravating ailment is his chronic hiccups, which according to my mother-in-law can be cured by a prayer and an herbal tonic from a healer in Mohill.
My husband's away in Brazil for a wedding, so his mother and I are taking care of things. A calf is ill and cattle must be fed; the pub needs to be opened by 5 pm; newspapers and clothes brought to the hospital.
On the way to the hospital that first tremulous evening, I noticed the beauty of the mountains and, further ahead, light shafting onto the sea. It reminded me of the first evening after Dad died, standing at the edge of the sea in Bundoran, staring at the sunset, thinking how beautiful it was, even in the midst of turmoil and grief.