Monthly Archives: September 2013


If you are visiting my blog because of RTE’s Nationwide programme, you are very welcome, and I hope you will like it.

I started this blog in May 2010, and at first wrote about miscellaneous things that interested me. Since Sean died of SADS on 17 October 2010, the blog has mostly been about him. If you wish, you can click on the links under the ‘Archives’ heading to the right to see what I was writing in any given month.

Details of my novel Larris & Me are given HERE.

I have written around 23 songs since Sean died (having never written any before). Three of these have been recorded with good-quality equipment and are on YouTube:

Sean and Clio in the Snow
Beating Heart
Come Back and See Me

The rest I recorded on a small Dictaphone-type device, sometimes with Pauline singing too. They are as follows (please click on a title to visit the post, and follow the link to listen):

Running in the Dark
Do You Hear Me When I Speak?
Pink and Gold
The Well
July to September
Nothing But Love
One Way
The Road
All Because of You
Devil’s Bit
Hey Sean
The Heat of Love
No Way of Knowing
Lament for Sean O’Brien
7021 Days
Gone Away
Love Remains
Losing You
Love You and I Always Will

Thank you for your interest! It is much appreciated. Please feel free to leave a comment if you wish (first you may need to click on ‘Nationwide’ at the very top of this post).



Filed under Blogging, Death, Ireland, Memories, Philosophy of life

Loss and love

The pain of bereavement is an organic thing – it does not stay the same. It changes and develops just like the person who has been lost would have changed and developed. We did not lose only the 19-year-old Sean whom we loved so much. We lost the 20-year-old Sean, the 21-year-old Sean, and now the 22-year-old Sean. And so it will go on, for the rest of our lives in this world. We lost his joys, his tribulations, his company … his children. We lost his friends (although we may see some of them from time to time). We lost his future friends and colleagues. The void left by his passing does not diminish – it grows larger as his life would have. It cannot be properly filled.

Yet it is filled to some degree by memories of Sean, by the pride and joy of having known him, and by the feeling that somehow he is still around – not just in the heads of those who knew him, but in a real, albeit intangible, sense – and that all is well.

We have proof of the indelibility of love, which is not just a figment of our brain cells but a force in the universe – a river in which we swim.


Filed under Death, Ireland, Memories