I'm tired. Beat. In. Too tired to even look forward to the weekend, which must because, as always I have too much to do, too much I could do, too much I have to do, too much I should do, too much I want to do.
I'm mainly tired because I flew to Ireland for last friday, and got back on tuesday. My uncle had died, my dad's last remaining brother, Uncle Lawrence. My Mum and Dad, on vacation, were unreachable, so my little sister and I decided to go and represent. The flights there were grueling and long, but I am glad we went. Despite the circumstances, it was nice to be in Ireland again on the farm with my cousins and aunt.
Uncle Lawrence will be missed that is for sure. Not that I knew him all that well. Like most Cotter's I know he was on the quiet and reserved side of things, but like my Dad and their other brother Dennis, a sly twinkle in his eye. I think the loss had not fully sunk in to anyone but Auntie Nora. He had been in the hospital a while, and ill for a long time, but he had gone peacefully and without too much pain. He'd had plenty of it during his life, and had plugged on through diabetes, and two legs amputated.
Mostly, especially after visiting Ireland this past weekend, I just wish I had known him better.