Goodbye, Derek

I've finally gotten the energy together to write about my beautiful son Derek's death last August 16. What a tragedy. It hardly seems possible that he could have taken his own life.

Now I face my first Christmas without him.

I will love you forever, Derek.

Husband abuse

Doug has returned from Budapest with his dental implants and a very bruised face, something I didn't expect. The left side of his face is swollen and purple. We've been joking that it looks like I beat him up, husband abuse.

Today we mostly sat around the house and took it easy. Doug is on pain pills and antibiotics.

Not much else to report!

Hungary Dental Adventure

Doug is off to Budapest to get his teeth fixed. Funny that I never noticed how many teeth Doug was missing until the dentist suggested that he needed to replace them.

So I'm home alone and a little nervous about it. Last night I went to see the Gate Theatre production of Molly Sweeny, and I spent the night at Cassidy's Hotel across the street. What a nice room I had there in the Executive Wing---Ha!

Tonight I'm home alone and typing Deeds from the ROD. Doug has been emailing his dental estimates. Tomorrow I've signed up to attend a creative writing class at the Irish Writers Center. My attempt to enter their monthly writing contest last month was a failure. :( Maybe if I take a class I can emerge victorious. Always that competitive urge, eh?

Sunday at Home

Doug returned last Tuesday with tons of things he bought in NYC, and pickles he actually brought me from the Carnegie Deli. Also a loaf of rye bread that eventually went moldy, but we put a good dent in it before the mold took over.

French has been placed on hold until I can Skype from home again. I've developed a dread of going to Internet cafes and just don't look forward to that experience anymore. Maybe because Sarah commented on how dirty they are ... which is true.

Friday Doug went to Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Drogheda for his endoscopy. They found a new small ulcer forming, and discovered that Doug weighs over 200 lbs. Apparently our bathroom scale is WAY off. Next Tuesday he heads for Hungary to start his dental repairs.

Thursday we went to see The Conspirator, a film by Robert Redford about the assassination of Abe Lincoln. Very good! And Saturday we saw the last Harry Potter film in 3D.

Departure panic

Sarah's flight was scheduled to leave tomorrow at 9 am, meaning that she would have to leave from here at 6 am. After calculating the costs, she opted to stay the night at Bewley's Airport Hotel.

I miss Sarah already.

What a strong, honest person I have chosen for my best friend.

Malahide

Today Sarah and I went to Malahide Castle for the tour. The weather was perfect and because everybody else was at the O2 concert, we were the only people in our tour group. Very nice!

We ate lunch in Malahide at Gibney's pub, complete with Irish music. Then we took the train into Dublin to watch a French movie at the IFI, a period piece about a princess who was very spoiled and courted by 4 men and many great-looking horses. Ah well. The movie wasn't the best.

There was an hour to kill before our train left, so we had a glass of wine at a place near the Tara Street station. Then the long train ride home, and Sarah making us some great salads for dinner. Now we're on Disc 3 of The Tudors and finished all the episodes except one.

The Black Box

Sarah and I spent the day in Drogheda. We climbed up to the Millmount museum and Martello tower, where the lady at the museum told us that the seagulls actually teach their babies to fly by pushing them off the top of the Martello tower. We were the only people there, and a seagull was definitely watching us from the top of the tower. The museum lady said that one of the seagull babies had fallen off the tower and landed in the yard of the man who lived below the tower. The man had picked up the dead baby seagull in his yard, and the adult seagulls were all attacking him. She said that ever since then, the man is attacked by seagulls every time he leaves his house.

When we came home from Drogheda, Sarah and I drank a glass of wine sitting in the beach chairs on the grass just outside our gate (where we sat with Bobbie and Laurie). We had been watching an unidentified black box floating at sea (through the binoculars) for days, trying to figure out what it was. I've seen it before, if you remember ... So we were quite interested when we saw the surfer dude next-door jump on his surfboard and paddle directly toward our mysterious black box. He paddled all the way out to it and then circled around back to shore. We were dying of curiosity, so we walked over and asked him about the black box.

The surfer dude's name is Robbie, and today he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt instead of the usual wetsuit. He told us that the mysterious black box is a buoy that provides a bit of safety for swimmers who need something to hang onto. I think it drifts with the tides, and he said he thinks it is part of a plane that crashed on the Laytown beach a long time ago.

I really enjoyed myself today! Good times.