He's gone

I heard today that my friend had died and I wrote this. 

He’s gone—

the news arrived today.

He’s gone,

so far away.

His voice, his smile, his gentle grace,

live only now in memory’s space.

No more upon the clifftop high,

laughing as the seabirds fly,

watching basking sharks below,

his joy a light, a steady glow.

No longer at the front he’ll stand,

words of comfort close at hand;

that smile we cherished, kind and true,

a gift the world no longer knew.

He’s gone—

and none can take his place.

He walks in heaven, face to face

with our Lord, his journey done—

no longer bound, but home, at one.

It's hard to know what to do when you're actually confronted by it

In this post I refer to a previous attempted suicide where myself and my friend intervened, on this old post: 

https://lifeforce198.blogspot.com/2024/12/gerry-and-incident-in-dublin.html

I often blog about reasons to live. This blog was originally a mental wellness and suicide prevention blog, but I have so much going on that I barely have time to come up with posts on mental wellness and quality of life.

This evening I was sitting in bed, I was tired and didn't intend to take my writing downstairs as usual, so I was sitting up watching the Addams Family and just vaguely warming up to write. I'm writing a new novel 'Empire's Survivor' if I haven't already mentioned it. Anyway my friend came into my room. Unusual but okay. He sat on my bed and told me he was suicidal. 

I'm supposed to have some training and knowledge, but in the training they teach you how to deal with suicidal strangers, bridge jumpers and so on. And as you know, I've dealt with such a scenario once and we saved her, but a friend coming to you in this state is a different matter and I was sitting with my laptop, not expecting this at all. I was totally thrown.

He told me that our other friend wouldn't help him, that he wanted a gun and our friend wouldn't bring his gun. (it turns out he no longer has a gun), anyway, he wanted me to get a gun. I talked to him about gun law and how if anyone brought him a gun they'd be arrested, and we didn't want him dead. 

He needed to talk and to be with someone, and that was fine, you know how I am, a troubled autistic person with many bad memories, so I felt at a bit of a loss here, but of course I wanted to help him. 

I asked him to talk to me. In the training you're taught to ask the person's name and introduce yourself to build a bond and make the person feel they're not alone, which didn't work with the semi-conscious suicide attempt in Dublin and would be no use with my friend. He sat on the bed and asked me if I'd get him a gun. He told me he'd asked at the gun shop but as he wasn't part of a gun club, they wouldn't let him have a gun. 

I texted the manager of the mental health charity but he wasn't much help. He said that I should phone the guards, this wouldn't help much. I texted our friend and he told me to just listen to him and be there for him and that he said these things to all his friends. Okay, I understand that but why can't something be done? Why is no one being more proactive? I guess many people find it hard like this when someone they know tells them they're suicidal. 

I explained gun laws to him, no one can get him a gun for suicide without being arrested. I looked up resources. I've done some volunteering with Pieta House, and so I emailed the person I had contact with there. In the end I phoned his psychiatry clinic with his consent and he left a message asking for a nurse to call out. 

He says he hasn't been able to sleep properly for years, he's troubled by a voice in his head. He's become very depressed with lack of sleep and lack of quality of life with the voice in his head. It's a tough one. Really I would imagine the only solution would be to change his medications, but he says no, and he saw his psychiatrist today and didn't tell them what was on his mind. So really it's hard to do much unless someone proactively liaises with his mental health team. 

He went back to his room to rest, and talked with me a bit longer later, mainly about the lack of sleep. You can imagine it's hard to do anything when you can't do anything. I just listened and sympathized. I hope the clinic can take his message seriously and someone can come round. 

Suicidal thoughts and actions impact on people around the person who is suffering. 

As previously mentioned, if someone is suicidal, they can get trapped in a dark tunnel of despair and not see a way out or a time when the problem isn't a problem. So if this man hasn't been sleeping for a long time, it's hard for him to see anything different. I remember what I'm like when I miss one night's sleep, I get physically and emotionally sick very easily, so it must be bad to have missed so much sleep. To choose life, there have to be things to live for, and without sleep, everything can be affected, it can be hard to see any positives. 

Update on that. 

I liaised with this friend's psychiatric team and pushed them to call out as they tried to ignore the request and phone him or ask him to go to them, which he wouldn't. They'd been unaware of how bad things were, and met with me and him and continued proactive contact, and as I left the situation, I left it with them and trusted they'd handle it. 

It's not far to Tipperary

 

The Cork-Tipperary Final which Tipperary won. The only time I have ever backed Cork. Window in Tipperary with derogatory remarks for Cork. 

Poor people such as myself don't really get holidays. But I've done okay for short breaks this year. It's certainly not the 4 star 'We hate tourists' hotel in Puerto del Carmen for me, but I had a nice week in Dublin with the little dog, three walks on the beach every day and a visit to my old haunts, and then this weekend I had a fantastic mini-break in Tipperary. 

I'd never been to Tipperary Town before. I know Nenagh, some people will be rolling their eyes there. I am not that keen on Nenagh. Tipperary is very different. 

Tipperary is like Mullingar with mountains, it's so similar to Mullingar. Shout out to the good people of Mullingar, I miss you, by the way. Mullingar is one of the kindest places in Ireland.

Tipperary has a similar layout to Mullingar in some ways, but especially the main street. It looks like Mullingar's main street. Then behind there's the Abbey School, which looks grim, it looks like part of the history of religious schools and institutions. There are various other grim and foreboding buildings, then there's the contrasting Excel Cultural Centre, modern, blue. 

Tipp has its problems. The main road is narrow and congested and they do have a share of antisocial behaviour including 'Rogue Car', one car which speeds round and round the roads all night. And then you get the 'Skins Lorry' coming through and it makes the town smell. The skins lorry came through while I was in Tipperary. I didn't see it, but I certainly smelled it, and the town keeps the smell the next day. 

See what I mean...Mullingar.

I stayed in a lovely old place, friendly and welcoming, comfortable and homeley. Every comfort. I had a good sleep and a tasty breakfast, and I thought of Mullingar. I loved seeing the Galtee Mountains up close. If you're up the side of Mount Meelick, you can see the Galtees with their eternal hat of cloud from there and various other places around Limerick. 

Life isn't perfect, especially not for the poor in Ireland, but sometimes we get a break. Sometimes luck throws something our way, and we can grab it and enjoy it. It was a little break, a little but pleasant experience. I grabbed it. And the buses to Tipperary are pretty good, it's not a long journey and on an august weekend it was a quiet bus. Grab those little gems in life and hold onto them, put them in that box of little gem memories. 

I started writing a new novel by the way. It's about a property tycoon. 5,000 words so far. 

The story of The Road to Shannon

Planes at Shannon Airport (model ones)

I linked to the new parody blog recently, but recent posts don't really belong on here so I'm moving them. If you want to read our comedy about Michael G.Tierney, Property Tycoon turned Shaman, he is still here: 

 https://beyondshannon.blogspot.com/?m=1

Likewise, poetry has been moved to: https://castletroywords.blogspot.com/

Shannon has been an important part of my life, but people don't know everything. They know we insult 'Newtown Shannon' in Castletroy, or that I lived there, or that I have a manuscript called The Road to Shannon. And I'm asked 'Is the Road to Shannon paved with good intentions?'

Last night, coming back from Shannon, I cried most of the way. Probably the fact I was listening to 'We had it all' by Ronnie Drew. If you ever need a crying song, there's one. Last night was very significant. After 15 years the final act of something significant to me was finally played out to closure, with strange sweet poetic justice. Unexpectedly, softly, and after so long of waiting. Things have changed significantly in recent months, not least because I'm finally telling my story and no longer alone with it, although there is a long way to go. I expected torrents of emotion, but maybe I didn't expect how that would feel. And so much has happened recently, not least JM and what happened being in the news.

With the first anniversary of my arrival in Limerick approaching, all I can say it's been a rollercoaster, some of the best and worst days of my life have been spent in Limerick. It feels like 10 years not one, and I've grown older, changed, and had experiences that have changed me.

Even my playlist has changed. When I arrived it was the 198 playlist. 'Snow in August', 'Long before your time', 'Ship to Shore', 'Goodbye Yellowbick Road', 'Limerick you're a Lady' and 'By your side' - the Limerick Love Song'. Then it was Shannon songs including 'Are you right there Michael' and 'Phil the fluter's ball' 

Then we went to the JM Golden Days: 'You never learned to Dance', 'Staten Island', 'The Ballad of John Williams' and 'By your Side'. And now 'The Old Bog Road', 'The town I left behind', 'The Ballad of St. Anne's Reel', and finally 'We had it All' - the song of the Road to Shannon. Life is a sound track. 

So the Road to Shannon was there a long time ago when I used to house sit in County Clare, but it didn't mean much to me, back then Ennis was a kind of Mecca, long ago. Now as some will know, I hate Ennis. 

The origin of The Road to Shannon could be told in legend form. It began when that man left me with nowhere to go when he'd told me he was moving me to Limerick. I'd moved my life to Limerick and he left me shattered and with nothing. In despair I went to my old home town and ended up at the hospital with my heart affected by the stress. 

'We stood there in the rain. Three of us. The Keeper of the Purpose is first to speak. 'You came home, and the Blessing is always honoured, you are called to Limerick, the Purpose is not the man who came to guide you, it is Limerick'. I consider this 'I have no connection beyond what I've built and I'll be homeless in a strange city'. He replies 'You will never be alone and you will be met in Limerick, follow the guides that come'. I turn to John, who is standing in the shadows. John speaks 'Go to Limerick, but you must know The Road to Shannon Airport blindfold as soon as possible'. 'How?' I ask, confused. 'You'll see' he says. 

I look towards the warm dry bus, the lights shining in the rain-starred darkness. I turn back to them 'I'm afraid I'll be coming back for your funeral'. The Keeper of the Purpose laughs 'You'll be home many times before I pass'. I bow to the Keeper and the Lantern-bearer 'I go first to the South, may I return when in need?' 'You will always return to the Town of the Blessing of the Purpose, O Wanderer'. They bow and are gone and in the rain I board the bus to Limerick. 

If you want to know what my Fantasy genre work is like, its on that theme. Rooted in reality. 

I arrived in Limerick as the 343 route was reinforced to bring a 24 hour regular service, and I learned the road to Shannon Airport in the dark before long. I learned with, music, with my playlist in my ears, alone, shattered and hopeless. 

I used to have many dreams and nightmares about the man who left me homeless in Limerick, my whole life had been in his hands. One of the most significant of these dreams was dreaming he took over Shannon Airport. I guess he does, when he takes his posh holidays in Lanzarote, but in the dream he just decided he would own Shannon Airport and wasn't listening to objections, which sounds like him. In my dream there was ski slope or ice slide down the middle of the airport, I'm not sure how he'd manage that, but in the dream he introduced flights to Madeira. Funnily enough, flights to Madeira were introduced shortly after this dream, I may have been dreaming of Madeira for other reasons. In the dream he sat with me at the restaurant there and he said to me 'I'm here'. But it was someone else who was there last night. 

For a while I went to live at Shannon with a friend, and the planes flew low over the house. I remember one day she said that someone who had been working on the house was just leaving, and I said yep, here's his plane. I got to know Shannon very well indeed. 

Peter McGarry's book 'Falling Stars' about Shannon Aviation disasters, is grim but a must-read. The real stories and lives behind the crash. Unfortunately for me, I dream of plane crashes often, as there was one in my past. Planes, airports, crashes, are significant to me. To me it has more meaning than the lucky ones who jet off on holiday and business without knowing how lucky they are, while I live in poverty and can't dream of choosing to fly. And despite all that, Shannon Airport has been so important to me and may well be more so in the future, if John knows anything. 

On Christmas Eve, the Departure and Arrival boards at Shannon read that Santa would arrive at 1 am and depart at 2 am, Special Flight. 

That road to Shannon with my friend ended in a sad and painful way, but the Shannon link continued, and I will know that road in my sleep forever. John's instruction was for something that never happened, perhaps, or maybe it will, in a different way or maybe he knew about last night. Last year something changed dramatically in my situation, with one of the men responsible for injustice to me being dramatically toppled for other injustices, and the pressure I was under became less and I felt safer, the emergency flight that created John's road to Shannon didn't happen, I think the slow road to healing started there. But last night at Shannon Airport, a long open wound was closed. 

'The Road to Shannon' is the diary story of my life in Limerick, started last year and on 40,000 words. To avoid confusion, it is not the same book as the novel I set in Limerick 'My arms are holding you' a fiction work, named in honour of the people of Limerick who from the moment I arrived, held onto me and held me to life. 

Letters of Complaint

 Formal Complaint to God: RE: The Matter of Shelter

Dear God,

I’m not asking for a mansion. Not even for comfort.
I’m asking for safety, for quiet, for continuity.

For a roof that doesn’t feel borrowed.
For walls that keep people out — the wrong people.
For a space where I can breathe, write, eat, and sleep
without being hunted, stared at, or punished for existing.

You know how long it’s been.
You know how hard I’ve fought.
So why, after all that,
am I still at the mercy of landlords and madmen?

I don’t want a miracle.
I want a key.
To something I won’t lose.
To something I don’t have to beg to keep.

Sincerely,

Someone who still tries to believe you listen.

Another fantastic weekend.

We reached out today in memory. To a year ago. To the start of 198. On Nassau Street, where old ghosts meet. You and I, we reached out. With the help of a friend I worked through those memories of gratitude and hope from the beginning of 198. I will never forget. I met a special man once, he was troubled but I saw the light in him, even if it was faded and faltering. I saw the light in him. Sometimes you meet people and see light in them. There are a number of people in Limerick who have light in them and some show by example what redemption looks like as well. 

So it hit 30 degrees this weekend. And in Limerick I joined the team on a very special project on Saturday. A special human being was in hospital and they hadn't been able to look after their house, so we went in and deep cleaned it. The weather was roasting and we worked hard, we sweated and we ached. We did this because we could and we wanted to. It was a fantastic day and very hard work, and of course great company, I am happy to say that I know people who are the salt of the earth. And now that special precious human being can come back to a clean and tidy house and wonder where we put everything, where everything is! 

Sadly, nearby, another special precious person, a man in his 70s, was violently murdered, and that cast a pall over our beloved Limerick on a weekend buzzing with events and sunshine. The person who caused the death has been charged, but it won't bring back a special Limerick character who has passed away, leaving his poor doggie pining for him. RIP and my deepest sympathies to the family and friends. 

When we finished the volunteer shift, I had a wash and changed, got some food, and watched the Pride Parade pass by as I waited for church. Pride looked a little diminished, perhaps because of the football final and other events. Then I caught up quickly with a friend or two before I went home for a shower and change before I went out on another errand. I could have had another busy sociable day today but I allowed myself to rest, well, physically anyway, I was doing trauma work for a large part of the day. Let yourself rest, especially if you are prone to overdoing things due to trauma. Rest. Look after yourself. 

We lost the football! Very sad. I love the sports, and I'm rooting for Cork next weekend for the only time in my life, because they're playing Tipperary. Ha. However, the lost football led to a lovely warm conversation with someone, which strayed almost inevitably to County Clare. You know how it is with me and County Clare, if I can, I will. 

Live, love, every minute. Life force, power, pure joy. 

A. 

A poem, if you have time. Not one of mine, but it reminds me a little of my late father, especially the last verse. 

Tony Harrison

1937 –

Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.

You couldn't just drop in.  You had to phone.
He'd put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.

He couldn't risk my blight of disbelief
though sure that very soon he'd hear her key
scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she'd just popped out to get the tea.

I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven't both gone shopping; just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there's your name
and the disconnected number I still call. 

Limerick, your arms are still holding me - 9 month Anniversary

It's been a busy time. Last time I wrote I had the joy and honour of helping with Darkness into Light Limerick 2025. It was a great day and went back to back with another role I do, where I go picking litter.

There are many people in the world who would scoff at picking litter, why would anyone choose to do it? Isn't it a punishment for people doing community service? 

No, it's a wonderful thing to do, picking up rubbish that people have discarded, notably around benches and walls and in flower beds and hedges where people throw rubbish. When I worked with Tidy Towns in Dublin, we would pick litter by a pub with a roof terrace and the amount of intact beer glasses and alcohol bottles fished out of the hedge intact was stunning. 

The kind of people who choose to get up early on a weekend and pick litter are some of the best company in the world, they truly are, salt of the earth. If you're feeling unhappy with your social circle, come litter picking. As an autistic person, I will always be a quiet person, will always struggle to communicate in social situations, but what helps me is attending a volunteer event where everyone has such good in their hearts that they choose to be there and to do good, not for praise or acclaim but because they care, because they are motivated, because they are kind. I feel safe with such people and more able to relax and talk.

One of the best things you can do for your mental health is go volunteering, and sometimes the best time to do that is when you feel least like doing that. I felt bad and didn't want to get up in the morning, but I'm very glad I did. I'm glad I did something useful and met with good people, it helps me to recover from my recent bad experience. 

Don't worry, we don't abandon the bags there.

The wonderful 'Serve the City' team who I litter pick with, who also run services such as soup kitchens and language exchange for migrants who want to improve their English. Serve the City were some of the first people I met when I came to Limerick, and meeting them gave me hope of a future here. 

It's been a difficult two weeks for me since I was violently attacked by addicts in town and put in hospital, on a Saturday of all days, my favourite day to be in Limerick and be around the people who I admire so much because they looked after me so well when I was homeless. Two weeks of pain and anxiety and depression and my landscape changing. I'm still suffering pain because it hit my disabilities and old injuries hard, and I wasn't feeling too well today but I got out of bed and went litterpicking willingly, looked forward to it and was happy, after two weeks of struggling to get up and function. I am getting back to normal.

Thursday this past week was a great day for me, as I passed my First Aid Responder course well and I'd enjoyed the course a lot. I actually turned up with concussion after being attacked as it's an intensive course and we were told not to miss a single session. My horrified instructor told me I could only audit the practicals that week, which was better than missing out, and in the end my practical exam seemed to come out perfect, so I was delighted. I'm so happy. First Aid is a vital skill and due to my circumstances I've waited years to re-qualify. 

Let me tell you the story of how I first met the litterpicking team. I'm a community volunteer but they are not on the community volunteering list. I arrived in Limerick 9 months ago, shocked, hypothermic and soaked by the rain, and covered in ECG pads from a heart scare caused by the circumstances which left me homeless on the streets of Limerick when I'd been expecting to come to a tenancy and a bright future.

It was Friday September 13th, in the evening, and I was obviously not okay when I was first on the streets of Limerick, and from the moment I arrived, people showed care and concern for me, they looked after me, and that saved me, and eventually, as the support was unwavering and strong, I was able to start rebuilding my life. 

It was Saturday September 14th, 9 months ago today, that after no sleep overnight on the streets of Limerick, I walked down to Arthurs Quay, having dried out naturally and calmed down because the people who kept me company overnight were so funny and cheered me up, at Arthurs Quay I stumbled across a group who were litter picking and I wondered if it was Tidy Towns, who I'd worked with in Dublin, but no, I'd never heard of the group but they were friendly and inclusive and had sweets and coffee afterwards, so I took a liking to them. It was a hopeful turn to events and just in that short time, I realised I could have a future in Limerick, just that it would be different to the one I'd been led to expect. 

Today I was honoured to be with this same team, different location, lovely people, to litter pick again. It makes me so happy, I can't fully explain why, but it makes me so happy. I didn't join them for coffee, as I said, I'm still suffering the after effects of being seriously injured and I said goodbye as the group went for coffee, and walked down to the church, my Limerick on a Saturday was to be reduced to just the litterpicking and my routine prayers at church, and then I headed home to rest.

The good in Limerick outweighs the bad. An honour and a pleasure to work with these people. 

As I walked down to the church, there was no sign of the huge ugly brewing trouble that played a part in the attack on me two weeks ago. Maybe I didn't see anything, maybe I didn't want to, or maybe because the Gardai and others are fully aware of what's been going on, something is being done, good on them if so. It was my Limerick on a Saturday again as I briefly popped in to do my prayers and walked back up to the bus, if I'd been feeling better, I would have stayed around, but I got groceries delivered, I'm not in a library mood and I still need to adjust after what happened, I'm not comfortable sitting or stopping in town yet. 

I get the bus to the end of the route where my bike waits for me. It was a funny day for people asking me for all sorts of directions to place and asking when buses were, maybe because I kept my hi-viz vest on, I wear it when I bike to and from the bus and we wear them for litter picking as well, so people must have thought I was someone and they were asking me a range of questions and directions from easy to impossible and I did my best. Ballybunnion and The Crescent Shopping Centre are okay, but don't throw anything more complex at me. Yikes, I think the last one, no matter where I tried to direct them, they'd still end up in the wrong place. 

I knew as I walked through town that my Limerick hasn't gone just because some irrational and violent people attacked me.  The good people are still here and the Spirit of Limerick is stronger than the current troubles. Your arms are still holding me, and my arms are holding you. 

The Limerick Love Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdjRmM0Q0qs