That word sounds a bit like failure, but in this case it’s something to be proud of. We almost finished unpacking. We almost fitted all the lights. We almost got rid of all the rubbish that is just in the way of things.


That word sounds like music in our ears. Out for a walk. Out into the snow. Out among people. Out of confined spaces with no air, no light, no wind, no rain, no children’ s voices, no traffic, no nothing but beeps from the machines or a voice saying “you’re allowed to come in” or another asking whether you have permission to visit early.


Being busy stops your mind from wondering. Or is it wandering. It’s when I stop that I feel the enormity of what has happened. But then – is that not all relative? Is what happened to Pádraig, what is happening to us, not something that happens to many people every day?


If someone had told me a bit more than a year and a half ago about what was going to happen to Pádraig and to us, and how we would all be, the idea of happiness would never have crossed my mind. These days have been happy days. They have also been really sad day. Is that what life is? Happy, Sad? All mixed up in the most impossible of situations?