Tonight, 29 years ago, would you believe it, I was sitting with two German friends in the house of two friends in Firhouse (I think) who had vacated their house for us. We were following the ‘book’ on how to organise a wedding in Ireland. One of the rules in the book apparently says that the groom has to spend the last night before the wedding somewhere with his friends. I’m say ‘apparently’ because I have never read or even seen this ‘book’ and have always believed what my Irish family had told me about Irish weddings.

Another ‘apparent’ rule, I was told, is that Irish women retain their maiden name after they get married – which causes a lot of confusion in Germany where Pat is called invariably ‘Frau Schäler’, which she finds really annoying, but has decided to tolerate rather than to fight it:)

Pat and I met 34 years ago and it took us just 5 years to make up our minds.

Neither of us would ever have thought that we would find ourselves one day where we are now. We would never have thought how important our relationship would become to us when facing life.

Pádraig was getting back to ‘normal’ again today. We sat him out in his wheelchair, he ate a bit, he cycled on the MOTOMed viva!, I shaved him, Pat cleaned his teeth. Whatever is ‘normal’ has changed but we will have to find some level of ‘normality’ at some time in the future. Life will have to become more predictable. It’s when you feel at the mercy of the gods who play their cruel games with you merely mortal soul, entertaining themselves watching you struggling, throwing at you challenge after challenge, that you wish for calmer seas.

We had conversations with two social workers, one in the Hamburg housing unit, one from the Schön-Klinik. They were the kind of conversations where I breath in, and out; in, and out. When I feel empty and horrified.

Tonight I’m thinking about my two German friend, one dead 17 years now. About the plans, the hope, the dreams, Pat and I had. Sitting in a kitchen, close to midnight, in Hamburg. Writing. About what.