An Irish Goodbye
This project was shared with the world in the aftermath of my grandfather’s passing. This was my final tribute to him, using photographs taken in the last months and in the last hours of his life.
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I spent the day with my Granny and Papa PJ on Wednesday, November 26th, 2020. I went over to their house to finish taking pictures for this project and to see them before visiting my other relatives for Thanksgiving. I originally wanted this project to be about their life and their home, because it is filled with many memories and decorated so uniquely by my Granny. However, plans changed early on Thanksgiving morning, at around 1:00 am, when my Papa passed away peacefully in his sleep. What I thought would be a long term series documenting their life together had come to an unexpected end. In the last week, their house has been overrun with grief and mourning.
Red Chair in the Living Room
After my Papa emigrated from Ireland, he joined the U.S. army to get citizenship, married his love back home and brought her to America, started a landscaping business, worked in the produce section of many grocery stores and eventually bought a few houses in Cedarhurst to rent out. Every single O’Rourke house had a red door. Why? Because a red door signifies that all are welcome. A stranger or traveller could see the red door and know he could rest there for the night and have a meal. Granny painted many things red in their house, like the door. For example, this little red chair, which all their 9 kids and 21 grandchildren sit and play on.
Papa in his Chair
In the years that his health declined, Papa PJ would spend a lot of time in this chair. He’d sit and watch TV, specifically golf and the news, while eating pistachio nuts. Before he went on oxygen he’d make a fire in the fireplace and watch it from his chair.
My Aunt Katie got Papa an Alexa speaker recently– he loved it. At first he thought Alexa was a real person and would ask her all these questions like “how are you today?” and “where are you from?” He loved when she’d say “Good morning PJ” and “Good night PJ.” He used to request his favorite Irish songs and listen to music all day.
Granny Painting Woven Furniture
My Granny is 92 years old and like my Papa, never wants to stop working. She’s always on her feet and the type to not sit down or eat until everyone else has.
She loves to paint and re-paint things. The walls of the house, the outdoor furniture, anything really. She’s not afraid to get messy, and despite how often we tell her to relax and let someone else do it for her, she never does. The two of them live by the motto, “If you want something done right you do it yourself.”
Wedding Photo Wall
This is the wall of Granny and Papa’s nine children’s wedding photos.
Having multiple children means you can’t play favorites…
Having nine children means you need a lot of wall space…
Empty Bed
I never thought I’d see a dead person where he had died, let alone my own grandfather. We were driving to Connecticut for Thanksgiving when we got the phone call, and rushed home immediately. At first I was too scared to go in the house– I saw the priest at the door who had just told him his Last Rites. But through tears, I eventually went in to go say goodbye.
I had just been here hours before. Now the rosaries that hung on the bedpost lay on his cold chest, and his mouth was wide open with a peaceful smile on his face. He died happy. He was surrounded by 7 of his 21 grandkids earlier, and he left the world on his terms– without showing any signs of suffering.
Oxygen Tanks
Papa smoked an old fashioned pipe for most of his adult life– it was his trademark. In his 80’s, health complications led him to quit smoking. In the year leading up to his 90th birthday, 2020, he had to be on oxygen.
I took this picture on Wednesday November 25th, 2020.
The tank was unplugged for the first time in months hours later.
Younger PJ
This is how my Papa will be remembered– with his pipe in the corner of his mouth, an Irish cap on his head and with calloused and dirty hands after a long day of landscaping.
A professional photographer saw him gardening one day and pulled him aside to take this photograph of him.
Stray Cat
This is Johnnie O the stray cat that Granny and Papa feed. The real Johnnie O is my father, but they named the cat after him as a joke. My dad is a very tough guy, afraid of nothing, while this cat is afraid of everything. The cat runs away from strangers, lets other strays eat out of his bowl and never stays long.
On the night Papa died, something weird happened. This cat was at the door all night in the pouring rain. He was clawing at the door trying to get in. He stayed until they took Papa’s body– probably around 5 hours. Maybe he wanted to say goodbye too.