The Graveyard Shift, part deux

Right, where were we? Oh yes, so Hubby’s Mum being here has prompted a bit of interest in his ancestors and we’ve all got a bit obsessed with tracking them down. Here’s the story so far: Hubby’s paternal Grandmother Rose and Grandfather Thomas had four children: Margaret, Thomas, John and Patrick. She then died shortly after, or during, the birth of another daughter, possibly named Teresa. Thomas, John and Patrick went to live with Nelly and Packie (Ellen and Patrick) in Cavan (theirs were the graves we found yesterday) and we’re not sure where Margaret went. We’re pretty sure she was the eldest so maybe she didn’t need looking after.

Armed with this information, and knowing that Hubby’s Father’s birth certificate shows an address in Kells, this seemed a good place to start. First stop, then, was the church, which appeared not to have a graveyard, where Hubby interrupted a lady who was having a pray up the front of the church who was terribly nice about his interrupting her communing with the Almighty and directed us to the ‘new graveyard’ further along the Dublin Road. We split up and searched all the graves for any familiar names. Hubby cheated by collaring the caretaker and ended up standing having a half hour chat with him while Hubby’s Mum and I did all the legwork. Typical.

I was telling J how fascinating it was to walk around an Irish graveyard. And before you say it, no, it’s not the same as an English one at all. Firstly, the graves are enormous – often being family graves rather than individual ones – and secondly there are far more details. These details are both amazing and often terribly sad; there are photos, poems, family nicknames: real personal stuff. One family had lost three children, and their faces were carved in relief onto the headstone, surprisingly realistic with their chubby cheeks and wide eyes. Heartbreaking. On a lighter note, we stumbled upon the most enormous couple of family graves: one like a miniature Greek temple (still probably about 6′ high) and another surrounded by life sized angels, all in glistening white marble: ‘that’s the Rooney’s family plot’, said our guide, ‘that one’s Wayne’s Grandad’.

But although there were a few graves carrying the correct surname, there was no mention of Rose or Thomas, or of their baby daughter. Thinking about it, if Rose knew Nelly and Packie well enough for them to take in her children when she died, maybe she was buried back up in Cavan. Another trip to the Stern Lady with Glasses could be in order. Ooer.

No Responses to “The Graveyard Shift, part deux”

1. Mum says:

   May 18, 2007 at 7:42 pm

   I think you know mine love….it hasn’t changed! We all do the best we can at the time – can we do more? X