Earr an tsaoil

D'fhoghlaim mé faoi an bás mháthair shean-carad agam inniu. Dé Domhnaigh seo caite, fhreastail Léna agus mé go raibh ar shochraid mháthair eile. Bhí sísean an máthair shean-carad againn.

Ar ndóigh, ní faigheann bás fáilteach linn. Ach, bhí saol sásta an bheirt bhan seo. Thóg oiliúntúna linbh go ghrá.

D'imigh Léna agus mé ag tiomaint ar an leithinis Pailise Uaine. Ní dheachaigh ansin breis agus daichead blianta nuair bhí siad óg. Is cósta na mara ag líonadh leis tithe mór-- agus go minic go gruanna! Mar sin féin, is maith linn a faigheann spléadach ar cladach na farraige.

In aice leis, tá teampall cáiliúil suas an cnóc ansin. Is é "Séipéal Taistealaithe." Bheartaigh sé le Lloyd Wright, mac Fhrainc, i 1951.

Tógail sé chomh an bord leis fuinneoigaí chomh glan le spéir os ár gcionn. Chruinnigh céad duine le luí na gréine istigh. Bhí earr an tsaoil mháthair na ár cairde.

Súigh muid ar h-uair síos an radharc leis crannái deargaí seang agus cúfrógái storrúil. Fásoidh solas go lag. Le comhrac lae agus oiche, chuala muid adhmholadh gharmac.

D'inis buachaill orainn faoi a sheanmháthair. Éist sí ar amhrán le Eilvis Preseli ar an leaba an bháis aici. (B'fhéidir, bhí seo "Siochain ar an Ghleann" go raibh ag seinmeadh a críochnú an séirbhís.) Chríochnaigh an ua sin an scéalín agam leis céist.

Ina dhiadh ag cloiste an amhrán, bhí go ciuin léi. D'oscail sí a súile ar an den uair dhéanach. Fhiafraígh iníon a máthair aicisean féin, a sheanmáthair féin, ar feadh ciúnas critheaglach seo. "An bhfeiceann tusa Dia?"

"Sunset of Life."

I learned about the death of the mother of an old friend of mine today. This past Sunday, Layne and I attended a funeral of another mother. She was the mother of an old friend of ours.

Naturally, death never finds us gladly. But, this pair of women lived happily. They reared loving children.

Layne and I went away driving to the Palos Verdes peninsula. We had not gone there for forty years when we were young. It's a sea coast filled with mansions-- and often ugly (ones)! Nevertheless, we like to glimpse the shoreline.

Next to it, there's a famous church [Irish denotes a Protestant one differently!] up the hill. It's "Wayfarers Chapel." Lloyd Wright, Frank's son, designed it in 1951.

It's built like a boat with windows as clear as the sky above us. A hundred people gathered there at the setting of the sun inside. It was a sunset of life for the mother of our friend.

We sat an hour under the view of slender redwood trees and sturdy cypresses. Light grew weak. In the meeting of day and night, we heard the grandson's eulogy.

The boy told us about his grandmother. She listened to a song by Elvis Presley on her deathbed. (Perhaps, this was "Peace in the Valley" that was played to close the service.) The grandson finished his little story with a question.

After hearing the song, it was quiet with her. She had opened her eyes for the last time. Daughter asked her own mother, his own grandmother, during this breathless silence. "Do you see God?"

Ghriangraf le/Photo by Joey Ikemoto. From the site/le suíomh "Séipéil Taistealaithe"/"Wayfarers Chapel."