My father’s gift of silence

Gavin Thomas Murphy runs an Ignatian-inspired website called Gratitude In All Things where he writes on contemplative wisdom for wellbeing.

It’s funny the things you remember about a loved one. Sometimes it’s their acts of kindness, their infectious sense of humour, their charisma. For me it is the clear image of the little hairs on my father’s fingers as we quietly enjoyed a pint of Guinness together just the summer before he died.

It was a time when my Dad helped soothe me from the woes of life as a third-year undergraduate student during an eight-day retreat in Cobh, County Cork, at a home of contemplative nuns.

Cobh is known as a harbour deep enough to shelter ginormous ships such as the Titanic in the early part of the 20th Century and continues to provide protection and rest for even bigger ships today.

My Dad also helped shelter me during that memorable stay in Cobh. I felt a deep sense of safety and security while we meditated together in the quiet chapel of the monastic nuns.

I felt at peace as we wandered around the town and basked in the glorious cathedral that begged the fishermen to pause in silence. The sun’s rays seemed more alight with splendour on our train journey from the south side of Great Island, where Cobh lies, into Cork City.

Our time together was more memorable by the fact that it was just between me and Dad and not shared among my eight brothers and sisters. I felt alive with love and happiness. I felt unique, I felt free, I felt like a bird that surfed the winds of the harbour.

Today, I am invited to show that same love to my family. I feel an expansiveness in my chest as I share common experiences with my aunt. I experience clarity and stillness of mind while I brainstorm with my Mam. And I sense a smooth heart rhythm in playing with my niece and nephew.

I rejoice in this cherished memory of my father, I rejoice for letting it come to the fore again, I rejoice for Dad’s gift of silence which is now deeply embedded in me.

I look to my own hands with the same little hairs on my fingers, occasionally with a pint of Guinness, and I delight in being wonderfully made.

Can you get in touch with a moment of intimacy with a loved one that you may have forgotten about? Can you grow in conviction of being deeply loved?