Monday, April 27, 2009

Teachtaireacht dheireadh mo phaidir


Fuair mé an sean-cárta poist seo ó an áit phaidir agam. Fuair sé bás Dé Aoine seo caite níos gáire. Chuaigh mé chuige a sheomra folamh an lá dhiadh sin.

Chruinnigh mo dheirfíur agus mé culaith éadaigh airsean féin. Beidh sé an chulaith is fearr aige air. Adhlacaimfaidh muid sé leis Dé Déardaoin seo chugainn in aice leis a bhean.

Chuir sé dom an íomhá os cionn. Bhí mé ach seacht mbliana d'aois ansin. Léigh mé an postmharc: an ceathrú agus scór lá de mhí Mheán Fómhair 1968.

Níl focail go leor ag scróifa leis mo paidir air. Scríobh sé nóta faoi a theacht do mo mhathair agus mé leis abairta simplí taobh thiar den cárta sin. Phóstáil sé de An Stat Nua-Eabhrac go gCalifoirnea Theas.

Chaith sé ag obair go gearr ansiud. Scrudaigh sé saotharlann innealra. Bhreithnaigh uirlisí inneallachaí nuair bhí sé níos sean ag obair mar ní raibh sé ábalta a cloisim go cuibhiúil níos mo. Chaill sé céim chloisteáil ag obair i monarchaí nuair bhí sé níos óg.

Nuair sé is scothaosta, ar ndóigh, ní chuala rudaí ar chor ar bith. Ar scor ar bith, ní raibh uair sula anuraidh. Dúirt muid ar feadh an chuid is mó den am.

Ina dhaidh sin, scríobh mé agus dearfadh sé le déanaí. Go minic, dúirt sé ró-hard. Ghlac go hard orainn. D'fhoglaim sé ag rá níos ciuin. Anois, tá sé fear tostach. Go dtuga Dia suaimhneas síoraí dá anam.

My father's last message.

I found this old postcard from my father's place. Death took him this past Friday quite suddenly. I went into his empty room the day after.

My sister and I gathered a suit of clothes of his. It will be his best suit of clothes. We will bury him in it this next Thursday beside his wife.

There aren't many words written by my father on it. He wrote a note of his arrival with simple sentences to my mother and me on the back of the card. He posted it from the State of New York to Southern California.

He sent me this image above. I was but seven years old then. I read the postmark: one score and the fourth day (24th) of September 1968.

He had to work over there briefly. He scrutinized machine shops. He inspected machine parts when he was older working because he was not able to hear properly any more. He lost a degree of hearing working in factories when he was younger.

When he was very elderly, naturally, he did not hear things at all any more. However, this time was not before last year. We talked during most of the past time earlier.

Afterwards, I wrote and he would talk recently. Often he spoke too loud. He called out loudly to us. He learned to talk quieter. Now, he is a silent man. God rest his soul in peace.

Cárta poist/ Postcard: "Fáilte go/Greetings from Sidney, New York." Ceannscríbhinn/ Caption: "Fianna ina Coillte ar doimhne/ Deer in the Deep Woods"

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