This is the day when the most unlikely things become reality. A bit more than 2,000 years ago, Jesus had disappeared from his tomb and, as his followers found out later, risen from the dead. Love will never die. It can suffer, cause incredible pain, make you despair. But just when you think it has died and you’re alone, it turns into the biggest miracle and makes you realise that it will always be with you. No matter what.

I know, this sounds cheesy… but there you are. I haven’t grasped the whole story of the passion and resurrection, I’m working on it because in my mind it is the most amazing, most inspiring ‘story’ around.

Today being Easter Sunday, we went to see yet more processions. In Blanes, there was just one. And it was pretty short. BUT – it had a surprise in store for us.

First the typical cofradía, all men, some in socks (used to be bare feet in the old days), all suffering under the weight of the statue of the risen Christ.

And then – mother Mary, carried not by another typical cofradía, but by one that had only women members.

Not sure whether these really short videos capture that incredible difference between how the two groups handled their task. Watching it from close by was quite something!

We discovered more stuff about Blanes. A shop closed for days now owned by someone called Puigdemont. A statue of Carl Faust, a German who lived in Blanes in the last century and founded the towns botanic gardens. And arroz negre, black rice, with strange creatures on top of it.

Pádraig is really having a great time. Enjoying the food, especially the gigantic and relaxed breakfasts, the walks, the sounds, the fresh air, the tiny shops in the town, the walks along the seafront.

And I ran 28k this morning. Heading off at 6am. Because it was still pitch black outside, my only option was to ran along the Blanes seafront which is well lit. 4 times. I really had doubts about whether I would be able to convince myself to get up that early and complete that long run. Maybe it was the day that’s in it that made the unlikely thing possible!

Remember that elderly lady in the street the other night when we were waiting for the procession commenting on Pádraig’s “big feet” — and his big feet only? Did I mention she told us about this fabulous shoe shop in the Carrer L’Hospital in Barcelona, selling comfortable shoes in all sizes?

Guess what! Today we went to Barcelona on a day trip and, by accident, found ourselves in the Carrer de l’Hospital. We asked in another shop for a shoe shop. And just a few metres down the road there it was: Calzados Gueisal.

We weren’t disappointed. Although the shop was really small, it had the most amazing selection of shoes – in all sizes. It didn’t take Pádraig very long to make up his mind about his favourites. Blue suede.

Isn’t it funny how, at times, things you never expected at all at all, all of a sudden start to happen?

This was the day of full scale disaster. The man who was to save the world died on the cross following a day of the most vicious torture. He had questioned the existing power structures and values. Those benefiting from these structure, those whose power was threatened, did the thing they do in those situations. No surprises here. Problem solved.

I am sure that none of them had ever envisaged that more than 2,000 years later, a “Holy Father”, head of a 1.2 billion people church, would preside over a solemn commemoration of this day of the passion that would be televised around the world. And that ‘cofradías’ in Spain would carry ‘pasos’ through the streets depicting the events of this day. (I took the pictures from the telly that was broadcasting the procession from Malaga.)

It was the man on the cross who changed the world. It is his words that survived the centuries. – I’ve been thinking today what his response would be to those pressing questions we are dealing with today and how he would see the catholic church itself.

So what have we been up to on this day of high drama?

Following a glorious breakfast, more like a lunch, we went out to meet these roman soldiers again. Turned out they have kids that do the daytime job. Some even have nose rings, studs and long hair under those fancy helmets. Though still no sign of the man they’ve been looking for yet…

At lunch time we had a visit from two very good friends who had moved to Barcelona some years ago and who came over to Blanes for the afternoon for a chat. We had brilliant afternoon in great company.

We’ll be off to Barcelona for the day tomorrow morning, just for a walk down the Ramblas and memory lane…

This is Semana Santa, holy week, and almost every town in Spain has their processions. Every night of the week. They tend to be really serious and a bit dark in Castilla, slightly exaggerated in Andalusia, and – as we saw tonight in Blanes – maybe a bit too matter of fact in Catalunya. It was this band of Roman soldiers marching through every street of the town centre, pretty swiftly, probably in search of Jesus. When he, if I remember correctly, was having dinner with his friends.

The random pictures below show a little of what today was like: a full moon at night on our way back home. Empty plates in our favourite Blanes Bar where the waiter had spent the first four years of his life in Düsseldorf and is quickly becoming our best friend, proudly practicing his German with us. Barrels of ordinary wine, sweet desert wine and absinthe in a supermarket that has tons of plastic bottles ready to be passed on to customers who want to buy that stuff by the litre, starting at €1.45. Lunch under blue skies in a beach restaurant. And, finally, a note around the hotel telling guests that they will have to pay if the ink from their new tattoos should destroy the bed linen; we haven’t seen anyone with a tattoo in the hotel so far, but maybe clientele changes in the summer months?

Amongst all the excitement of today, the best moment was when an elderly lady with a  yellow ribbon (showing her support for the catalan prisoners) got to talk to us during the Roman Soldiers’ march through the town. She was really taken by Pádraig – but, in a very strange twist, exclusively by the size of his feet. Size 50! Unbelievable. But no reason to despair. There is this shop in Barcelona…. and then she gave us directions I’ve sadly forgotten. It was so nice, so normal, and so unexpected. The size of Pádraig’s feet. In terms of making contact with Pádraig, this was a resounding first!

Temperatures went up to 30o celsius today in Spain, apparently. Up here in the North, though, almost 100km North of Barcelona, in Blanes, they hardly reached 20o.

In other words: it was a scorcher.

After the usual into and out of the airplane craic, we had to wait a few hours in Barcelona airport to catch the wheelchair-friendly bus that was going to take us on our 2 hour journey along the scenic route of the Costa Brava to Blanes. And look at that bus! Out of nowhere came a ramp that lifted Pádraig up in the air and across to his seating area in ‘normal’ bus where they just had removed a couple of seats to make space.

The best thing about the day was our room in this hotel that is separated from the med only by a road that you don’t even see from the window. Check it out. We don’t have just ‘sea view’, with have double sea view!

After a nap on arrival (after all we had got up at 4am to catch that flight), we went for a walk and ended up in one of our favourite bars.

For 20 euro, the three of us had tapas and a few beers making us some of the happiest people on the planet. Pádraig so enjoyed the walk along the promenade, the sun, the people, the food and the sip of beer. It was fantastic!

Finally, and to top it all up, guess from where I am writing tonight? Correct! Sitting on the top floor balcony overlooking the promenade, the lights of the town, and the mediterranean!

We’ll be getting up at 4am tomorrow. That’s the bad news. The good news is that we’ll be going to the airport to catch a plane to the sun.

We’ll be heading off to Spain, North of Barcelona, for Easter. As we always (well, almost always) did. What if not that is normality? When we were told about this life not worth living, this ‘intolerable’ life. this life not worth any further ‘investment’ because there was no ‘return’ on that investment? I mean, eat your heart out….

In the meantime, I had this thought. It’s not really funny. But it is curious.

You all know about the waiting lists for everything in the health service, even – or especially – for children. Over a year for scoliosis treatment, more than two years for speech and language therapy. Often more than 2 years for rehab.

Now, the current proposal for legislation on abortion in Ireland is that it will be legal within 12 weeks – if the Irish people decide to take out of the Irish constitution the 8th amendment in a referendum to be held this coming May.

My thought was: how on earth will the Irish health service deliver abortion services within 12 weeks? If they cannot deliver the most basic health care, life saving, services without year-long waiting lists?

Rome was not built in a day, opposition will come your way. But the hotter the battle you see, is the sweeter the victory.

When I heard “You can get it if you really want” by Desmond Dekker on the radio today, I thought that someone was doing magic and had sent me this song. Had sent us this song, at a time when I felt a bit discouraged and resigned.

Persecution you must fear. Win or lose you got to get your share. You’ve got your mind set on a dream, you can get it though hard it may seem now.

But then – this is how the world goes. Not the way you want. Not at the pace you want. Not under the conditions you had expected.

Really, if that Stormy Daniels interview doesn’t cause a revolution, if Emma Gonzalez’ speech at the March for our Lives doesn’t begin an uprising but provokes former US Senator Rich Santorum to say that rather than protesting the kids should learn CPR – what chance have we got to change people’s hearts and minds about affording a life to those the health system has written off – more often than not based on a scandalous because widely known yet ignored mis-diagnosis. (In Ireland, there is strong evidence that 60% of those diagnosed as being in a persistent vegetative state are, in fact, conscious.)

We keep going, anyway. And we’ll try. Try and try. Try and try. And we’ll rise and we’ll succeed at last.

There was a moment when I thought I had lost everything, well – almost everything, in my life. My job, my friends, my life plan, and, of course, Pádraig. My independence. I thought, no matter what happens to you, you are in charge and you can decide what to do next – though not if all of a sudden there are huge responsibilities put upon you and when people depend on you. In that case, taking decisions for myself had to come second to my responsibilities for others, my family.

Then I thought what life would be without these responsibilities. Without looking after those, as best as I could, who are closest to me. I realised that I depend as much (if not more) on those who took away part of my independence, my liberty, my life plan, – as they depended on me. Without them, what sense would my life make?

You could call that a dialectic relationship, between a person who wants to be the independent captain of their fortune and the person who realises that without others there is no fortune, content, or happiness. – Makes me think of Christopher McCandless waking “Out of the Wild” where he had tried to become stronger by depending on nobody, realising that “happiness is only real when shared“.

Pádraig went to visit his last surviving grand aunt this afternoon. Two of his great friends visited him later and shared with him their latest news. They brought biscuits and cool-dude attitude. I wonder how they feel being with Pádraig. What they think and how they relate to him.

I went for a 24k ‘run’ and just about made it home. There’ll be a 28k run next Sunday and a 32k run the following Sunday. No idea about how that will be possible. But I will try.

Half of Pádraig’s carers will not be here this coming week. The idea of going on holidays in ones and of avoiding overlapping holidays has not gained ground yet.

Heard from a source in the HSE that the service agreement will be signed next week. Fingers crossed.

We did what thousands of people did today in Ireland: we enjoyed the sunshine and near-mediterranean temperatures consuming large quantities of fresh home-made Italian gelato. It was magic!

In the evening, we went to the month’s mind mass for our friend Louise, whose 60th birthday it would have been today. Louise remains, and always will remain, with us and especially with Pádraig.

It’s hard for Pádraig to lift up his leg from the ground up when he is sitting in his chair. Try it out yourself and you’ll find out what I mean.

It’s quite a bit harder for him to lift his leg up from the ground in stages. 1-2-3 going up, and 4-5-6 going down. Try it. It’s hard.

Yet, this is exactly what he did today. Not just once or twice, but a few times. For the first time ever. Another first.

As if that hadn’t been enough, he started to move his arms (almost) by himself when he was using the arm trainer in the MOTOMed. A little bit more than a year ago, we had a discussion with a few important people telling us that using the arm trainer would damage Pádraig’s shoulders.

Sometimes, it’s better to question what important people are telling you. And sometimes, you’re better off ignoring what they’re telling you.