Today I attended the annual Patron Day for my home of Gorey. For those of you not familiar with a Patron Day it’s basically a coming together of the friends and family of a deceased loved one for the blessing of their grave. This is a collective blessing of all graves in a particular cemetery and is conducted along with a mass-type ceremony, given by a priest through loud speakers. People assemble en mass to stand at the graveside of their loved ones and pay their respects. But sometimes I wonder . . . do they really? Is it out of respect or is it something else?

I can’t help but ask this question, and I ask it not only of the majority who turn up on this day but of myself too. Today was the third such Patron Day I’ve attended – the third since my son passed away – and I greet its arrival every year with the same reluctance and sense of hypocrisy that serves only to quietly irritate and confuse me. Now I know every Patron day is different, largely depending on the size of the cemetery in each case, so I suppose I should explain my own experience. You see the cemetery where my son is buried is quite large and so each year on this day thousands of people flock to be there. Logistically and practically this turns out to be a nightmare experience with massive crowds in attendance all bustling, shoving and pushing along the narrow paths between graves. This in itself makes the experience a very awkward and chaotic one. In addition to this, most (all, in fact) of the merchants and traders in Gorey shut up shop because of previous experience of trouble and theft on such a busy and overcrowded day.

Gorey cemetery is also a key graveyard for many of the ‘Travelling Community’, who arrive from all over Ireland and Britain to be there on that day. The first time I was ever at this Patron Day I remember how shocked I was to see so many women and young girls parading around with next to nothing on. I’ve since learned that this is a ‘match-making’ day for the Travelling community and this is why they were attired so. Now I’m far from being a prude, and it always makes for interesting scenery (if a little distracting), but considering the significance of the day it serves only to add to the point I wish to make:

People are there for many reasons, least of which, I believe, is out of some respect for those passed on. And I include myself in this. Of course I respect my son, as do all those who have loved ones buried there, but the Patron Day, to me (and to many others too) does not feel authentic. Thousands pour into the cemetery and talk, parade their wares, socialise, fight (the fact that police are on standby every year speaks volumes about past experiences), steal (wreaths and flowers are regularly stolen on this day) and then eventually leave.

So many turn up just so as to be seen – the fear of their absence being gossiped about among the social network– while others, like myself, turn up out of some sense of not wanting to let our departed loved ones down. I love and respect my Craig beyond anything measurable and I certainly do not NEED to be there on that day to PROVE it before the eyes of locals and strangers. I do not wish to prove anything. My love is between my son and I – nobody else. I stand at my son’s graveside most days anyway. And yet strangely I feel compelled to be in attendance on this nightmarish day. Why? Why do I feel I must go, when at the same time I know I don’t want to? What forces are at work here? Is it guilt? Would I feel guilty knowing that everyone else is there and I’m not? That my son’s grave is left idle among the crowd? Would he miss me not being there?

I foresee a time, maybe not too far off, where I will no longer go along. My son is with me always, no matter where I go. I do not need to be here or there to love, respect or remember him. He certainly isn’t in the grave in that busy old cemetery. His physical body yes, but not Craig himself. I know this, but I suppose only time will allow this truth to be fully absorbed. Maybe then I can fully and wholly release those physical distractions from my thoughts and embrace the truth unquestioningly.

Let’s see what happens next year?