Dearest Derry

I took a spontaneous trip to Derry to see an old friend who is in hospice. As it turned out, she wasn't up for a visitor, understandable given the ebb and flow of her energy level.

I did pack in quite a few other visits over two days in Derry, where I lived from 1974-1980. I started in Drumahoe with Mary Richmond, a friend of my mother's. We went into the city for lunch and enjoyed catching up. Her husband of 55 years died a year ago and, within six months, her younger sister, 70, died suddenly after being diagnosed with cancer. While you could expect Mary to be angry, depressed, bitter even, she was instead as full of grace as her namesake. She said she is grateful for the time she had with her husband, whose slower decline gave them plenty of time to reminisce on the good life they shared. They were devoted to each other and she shared with me pictures of her husband she treasures and letters from the staff at the hospital reassuring her that she fulfilled her role beautifully as his caregiver. She said these letters--from doctors and nurses--are extremely comforting. Do you think American doctors and nurses write letters to their deceased patients' widows? Maybe so, if they are as touched by people like Mary, whose loyalty and love are so obvious.

Then it was on to Beech Hill House in Ardmore for a long walk with John Mulligan. John owned a men's clothing store in Derry and he fancied horses. He and I bought horses together that I trained and showed. We had 34 years of history to catch up on, so it was a long walk.
This is the gatehouse to Beech Hill House.

We ended up in Ardmore Chapel, which I attended with my mother and sister. I didn't know you could kneel in a Catholic church for a half hour discussing religion, divorce, parenting--but I guess God has heard it all, right? John is one of the funniest people I know and, while I was saddened to hear that he has been through the wars, relationship-wise, I loved seeing that he is as funny and charming as ever.

Then back to the city centre to the B&B to check in. Then back across Lough Foyle (which divides the city side from the water side) to Eglinton, were I had dinner with two school friends. We reminisced about our teachers, our fellow students, and the differences between growing up during the innocent times we enjoyed (despite spanning the Troubles) and growing up now in the glare of social media. Jennifer's daughter was just in the Spanish town where an Ulster girl has become a viral celebrity after a drunken ordeal. Her daughter was rattled by the aggressive predatory club culture she experienced and wanted to come home on her first day. Smart girl.

Our dinner carried over into the bar, where I caught glimpses of Germany throttling Brazil in the World Cup. I was quite happy, due to Brazil's dirty play in earlier matches.
7/8