The letter I wish I'd sent
My Dear Son, You were born 52 years ago; 9lbs 8ozs. Sadly you died during labour. I never got to hold you in my arms. They took you away quickly. When I asked to see you all sorts of excuses were given. That's the way it was done in those days. Your dad had a little mahogany coffin made for you. The gravediggers were on strike so your daddy and an uncle took you in a taxi to Glasnevin and buried you. You have two brothers and two sisters.
Sadly after 50 years of marriage, your dad and I parted. Drink took over his life. He is a good man but a weak one. One of your brothers blames me and we don't talk.
The others I see very little of even though some live near me.