Tag: grandmother

Now I Have to Go

There is going to be a ton of back story to this one. You’ve been warned.

My maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Bridget Murphy. Her friends called her Bride, or Bridie. She had a bunch of kids (five, but one passed as an infant) and those kids all had kids of their own and two of those kids had a lot of kids of their own. That means I have roughly 25,000 first cousins (I exaggerate of course, but only a little). Many of us are on a Facebook Messenger chat thread together.

One of my zillion first cousins’ daughter got married this weekend. It was a destination wedding. The destination was in Ireland. Glorious! Some of my cousins have been sending photos from the trip to the Messenger thread. One of them just sent something that changed my personal mindset about visiting Ireland. How so?

I have always wanted to visit Ireland but now… now I HAVE TO VISIT IRELAND!

The photo was of a store front. The name of the store:

Bridie Murphy’s Home Bakery.

Yes, I now have to go to Ireland. I have to go to the land where Bridie Murphy’s Home Bakery exists. It is a must. It is a moral imperative. It has to happen.

Worst Nightmare Ever

I had a nightmare last night and it was awful.

Yesterday was my grandmother’s 114 birthday. She passed away over 20 years ago. She was the nicest, sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever known. Everyone has that person that makes them think, that person is a saint. She’s that person for me. My Nana was a saint.

And last night I had a nightmare about her.

I was laying in bed but it wasn’t my bed. I was sleeping on my side. I woke up hearing a voice. It was Nana’s voice. It was coming from right behind me, over my shoulder. She whispered my name a couple of times and a few other things that I couldn’t make out and it terrified me beyond my ability to describe.

There was a ghost right behind me, talking to me. I wanted to roll over and see her but I was frozen. I couldn’t roll over but I was shaking in fear. I had to force myself awake. I couldn’t do it at first, but eventually I was able to, and I put an end to the awful experience.

What kind of an asshole has a nightmare about their saint of a grandmother on her birthday.

I suck. I suck more than any human (except trump) has ever sucked before.