'Forgotten Love.'
Part One: 'Two Men, One Choice'
'When your first love is your true love, don't waste the opportunity and make it your lost love.'
Every time Dave Foster walked into his mother's lounge in 14, William Street, Portlaw, he would see her motto about 'lost love' sitting proudly in the centre of the mantel piece. Instead of the usual type of printed motto that is sometimes seen on a mantel piece, his mother's motto looked to be the framed fragments of part of a letter with a heart shape cut from its centre. Although he couldn't quite grasp the significance of its message as a growing child, in adult years he would come to have these words etched across his heart. His mother's heart had been broken in her early years, and he'd witnessed her live a life thereafter of permanent regret.
Nowhere in the house was there one image or photo likeness of Dave's father, Jonnie Foster, to be found; not even one photograph of his parent's wedding day, all of which she'd destroyed the same day he broke his marriage vows. Dave often wondered if this was her way of cutting his father out of her thoughts. Dave had never really known his father and therefore never considered it strange that no such photograph was displayed. He was aged around six years before he was able to fully appreciate that his mother and father didn't live together anymore and that they'd been separated ever since he was two years old.
Nowhere in the house was there one image or photo likeness of Dave's father, Jonnie Foster, to be found; not even one photograph of his parent's wedding day, all of which she'd destroyed the same day he broke his marriage vows. Dave often wondered if this was her way of cutting his father out of her thoughts. Dave had never really known his father and therefore never considered it strange that no such photograph was displayed. He was aged around six years before he was able to fully appreciate that his mother and father didn't live together anymore and that they'd been separated ever since he was two years old.
Dave Foster had been born the only child to his father, Jonnie Foster, and his mother Maureen Doogle. His mother had married Jonnie Foster on the emotional rebound, and after finding herself pregnant to him. Jonnie had not been her first love, and though she hoped for a happy marriage on her wedding day, it soon became apparent to her within a month of their union that she'd made a big mistake in allowing Jonnie to get her pregnant and in marrying him.
The fact that her son, Dave, was an only child, was a decision that his mother quickly settled upon within a year of her marriage to Dave's father, once she realised that she could never love him, and once it dawned on her that she would never love anyone except her former boyfriend, Jerome Walsh, until the day she died!
Every day of her life, Maureen Foster bitterly regretted having lost out on her one true love. If only the young man she'd been seeing, Jerome Walsh, had spoken up for what he'd wanted sooner, if only he'd declared his love for her before she'd met Jonnie Foster, her life would have taken an entirely different course!
The fact that her son, Dave, was an only child, was a decision that his mother quickly settled upon within a year of her marriage to Dave's father, once she realised that she could never love him, and once it dawned on her that she would never love anyone except her former boyfriend, Jerome Walsh, until the day she died!
Every day of her life, Maureen Foster bitterly regretted having lost out on her one true love. If only the young man she'd been seeing, Jerome Walsh, had spoken up for what he'd wanted sooner, if only he'd declared his love for her before she'd met Jonnie Foster, her life would have taken an entirely different course!
When Maureen was a young woman of eighteen years, she started to become noticed by all of the eligible men in the village. She had an attractive body and wore the finest head of hair ever seen this side of the Puck Fair in Killorglin. Indeed, it was often rumoured that somewhere in her background there must have been a few gypsy genes in order to produce the colour of black locks that only the most seasoned travellers seem to have. Maureen was proud of her hair, so much so, that she let it grow down her back until it almost touched her slim waist.
All the young men of Portlaw wanted to walk Maureen out and I dare say that a few of the older married ones also fancied her on the quiet. Despite being flattered by a surfeit of male attention, however, Maureen had eyes for only one. She had set her heart on one young man who she'd noticed admiring her from a distance, but who'd been too shy to approach her directly until he'd built up the courage to do so. His name was Jerome Walsh; an Adonis in looks, but a young man who was very shy when it came to communicating with the fairer sex.
All the young men of Portlaw wanted to walk Maureen out and I dare say that a few of the older married ones also fancied her on the quiet. Despite being flattered by a surfeit of male attention, however, Maureen had eyes for only one. She had set her heart on one young man who she'd noticed admiring her from a distance, but who'd been too shy to approach her directly until he'd built up the courage to do so. His name was Jerome Walsh; an Adonis in looks, but a young man who was very shy when it came to communicating with the fairer sex.
It was just after her 18th birthday, when the apprenticed carpenter, Jerome Walsh, plucked up the courage and started to pay Maureen the type of attention which indicated that he found both herself and her company pleasing. Maureen seemed to welcome Jerome's advances and before long, the couple started seeing each other occasionally. Jerome was a reserved young man who'd been brought up to respect all people and to conduct himself in the presence of a young woman with proper decorum and dignity.
Maureen, on the other hand, was an 18-year-old colleen whose passions had risen to the surface over the past few years since she'd discovered her sexuality. She was fast approaching the crossroads of her life and was at that stage where she didn't quite know what she wanted from a relationship with a man or how a fully-grown woman was supposed to feel like in their company. The thoughts that occasionally came into her mind often made her blush, but still urged her to explore their need, particularly when she was in the privacy of her own bedroom on a night-time and Jerome's rugged features came to mind.
Over the months, Maureen gradually felt herself falling in love with Jerome and his gentle ways. She kept waiting for the time when he might declare his love for her and ask her to marry him, to which she'd instantly agree. But, being the man he was, Jerome held his horses. He liked Maureen very much and deep down, he believed he loved her. But the simple truth was, without being sure how she felt about him, he did not possess the confidence to approach the subject and openly declare his love for her so early on in their relationship. Jerome had been raised with the notion that when a young man met a woman he liked a lot, the couple would spend at least two or three years walking out together as they gradually got to know each other better; and only after the man was certain that he loved his lady and wanted her to be his wife, would he then openly declare his love and formally ask her to marry him. Nowhere in Jerome's breeding and value range, was it considered as being proper behaviour during times of courtship, to do with one's lady those things that only married couples are sanctioned by church to do!
Maureen, on the other hand, was growing more impatient to at least touch the forbidden fruit, even if she wasn't allowed to taste it! She knew however, that though Jerome was a shy young man, it would never be acceptable to him to have her make the first sexual advance. Such female forwardness would merely put him off. She rightly sensed that he would never find such exploration of love acceptable unless he was the one to make the first move.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Maureen, on the other hand, was an 18-year-old colleen whose passions had risen to the surface over the past few years since she'd discovered her sexuality. She was fast approaching the crossroads of her life and was at that stage where she didn't quite know what she wanted from a relationship with a man or how a fully-grown woman was supposed to feel like in their company. The thoughts that occasionally came into her mind often made her blush, but still urged her to explore their need, particularly when she was in the privacy of her own bedroom on a night-time and Jerome's rugged features came to mind.
Over the months, Maureen gradually felt herself falling in love with Jerome and his gentle ways. She kept waiting for the time when he might declare his love for her and ask her to marry him, to which she'd instantly agree. But, being the man he was, Jerome held his horses. He liked Maureen very much and deep down, he believed he loved her. But the simple truth was, without being sure how she felt about him, he did not possess the confidence to approach the subject and openly declare his love for her so early on in their relationship. Jerome had been raised with the notion that when a young man met a woman he liked a lot, the couple would spend at least two or three years walking out together as they gradually got to know each other better; and only after the man was certain that he loved his lady and wanted her to be his wife, would he then openly declare his love and formally ask her to marry him. Nowhere in Jerome's breeding and value range, was it considered as being proper behaviour during times of courtship, to do with one's lady those things that only married couples are sanctioned by church to do!
Maureen, on the other hand, was growing more impatient to at least touch the forbidden fruit, even if she wasn't allowed to taste it! She knew however, that though Jerome was a shy young man, it would never be acceptable to him to have her make the first sexual advance. Such female forwardness would merely put him off. She rightly sensed that he would never find such exploration of love acceptable unless he was the one to make the first move.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Later that year, when the Easter Fair visited Portlaw, Maureen and her friend Doonie Quinn attended one evening. While there, a young man in his early twenties tapped Maureen on the shoulders and asked if she would like to take a ride with him on the carousel. Initially, Maureen was going to refuse outright, but once she saw his handsome face and manly features, she was instantly smitten by this rough diamond who stood before her. And if that wasn't enough to win her over, his wide smile, confident mannerisms and smooth Irish tongue proved sufficient to captivate her and complete the conquest.
There was something about him that gave Maureen goose pimples and made her feel uneasy in the most pleasant of ways. He was undoubtedly a man's man, and what is more, he'd been the first man to make her feel like she wanted to be a woman in all respects.
There was something about him that gave Maureen goose pimples and made her feel uneasy in the most pleasant of ways. He was undoubtedly a man's man, and what is more, he'd been the first man to make her feel like she wanted to be a woman in all respects.
Initially, Maureen and Doonie allowed the young man to give them both a fairground ride. By the time the three of them had got off the ride, Doonie could sense that she was in danger of being seen as a gooseberry, particularly as it was as plain as a pike staff that the couple fancied each other and would prefer to be alone. So, Doonie excused herself on some pretence and left Maureen and the man alone.
He told her that his name was Jonnie Foster and he lived out on the Waterford Road in an old cottage with his Aunt Nora. By this stage, the anticipation of events to follow had clearly entered the Jonnie's mind and even Maureen felt the kind of elated danger that faced her at this handsome stranger's hands.
"Let's go somewhere quieter," Jonnie told Maureen as he looked at her with a wildness of eye she found exciting, "I want to kiss you properly!" She was taken aback by his degree of confidence. It was a kind of a self-assurance that didn't require him to ask her for the privacy he sought. He instead direct her towards it.
He told her that his name was Jonnie Foster and he lived out on the Waterford Road in an old cottage with his Aunt Nora. By this stage, the anticipation of events to follow had clearly entered the Jonnie's mind and even Maureen felt the kind of elated danger that faced her at this handsome stranger's hands.
"Let's go somewhere quieter," Jonnie told Maureen as he looked at her with a wildness of eye she found exciting, "I want to kiss you properly!" She was taken aback by his degree of confidence. It was a kind of a self-assurance that didn't require him to ask her for the privacy he sought. He instead direct her towards it.
Before she'd left the fairground that evening, Maureen had been persuaded by Jonnie Foster to go behind the tent for a kiss and a cuddle. By the time she re-emerged some fifteen minutes later, with red face and ruffled clothing, Jonnie Foster had seen more of her body than her mother or any other person had seen since she'd entered her teenage years.
She looked flushed and slightly embarrassed as they re-emerged back into the lighted fairground and quickly readjusted her dress. Her body had been set on fire with a passion that she had not known before. At the time, she sensed it wasn't the same feeling that she felt for Jerome and knew it to be passion and not love that had moved her to behave in such a manner with a total stranger.
After she'd met Jonnie at the Portlaw Fair, Maureen had eyes for no other. All of her friends were taken by his handsome looks and manly physique and told Maureen if she didn't want him, to pass him over to them. The more her friends rated him as being a good catch, and the more her days were spent imagining what her nights with Jonnie would bring, the more she wanted him as a permanent feature in her life!
She looked flushed and slightly embarrassed as they re-emerged back into the lighted fairground and quickly readjusted her dress. Her body had been set on fire with a passion that she had not known before. At the time, she sensed it wasn't the same feeling that she felt for Jerome and knew it to be passion and not love that had moved her to behave in such a manner with a total stranger.
After she'd met Jonnie at the Portlaw Fair, Maureen had eyes for no other. All of her friends were taken by his handsome looks and manly physique and told Maureen if she didn't want him, to pass him over to them. The more her friends rated him as being a good catch, and the more her days were spent imagining what her nights with Jonnie would bring, the more she wanted him as a permanent feature in her life!
Her meeting with Jonnie had left Maureen somewhat confused in her feelings for both him and Jerome. In her own mind, she loved both men in her own way, in different ways. She loved Jerome for his gentleness and loving nature and Jonnie..... well she loved Jonnie for his brute manliness and his ability to make her go weak at the knees simply by looking at her. When he looked at her with those wanting eyes of his that expected everything for the mere asking, she found all her resistance melt away.
She found herself unable to refuse him his way with her and she very quickly became his for the asking as she willingly surrendered all to his will.
She found herself unable to refuse him his way with her and she very quickly became his for the asking as she willingly surrendered all to his will.
When Jerome saw Maureen walking out one evening with her new man friend, arm-in-arm like a couple of love birds, he knew that he'd missed the boat by having failed to declare his love for her when he'd had the opportunity. He realised that he'd effectively killed his only chance with his one true love through his reticence to declare his feelings for her.
Three weeks later, Jerome, left Portlaw and went into training to join the priesthood. One day after he'd left Portlaw, Jerome's conscience told him to do the decent thing and to write to Maureen and let her know that he intended to become a priest, instead of just disappearing off the face of the earth without a word of explanation, were she to wonder about his sudden absence from the scene.
Two days after writing and posting his letter, Maureen received it:
'Dearest Maureen,
By the time you get this letter I'll be in Dublin where I start my training to become a priest. I had thought about joining the priesthood since I was twelve years old, but after I met you, that intention got pushed into the background as the possibility of another future life started to unfold.
I had hoped that perhaps one day, you and I could have been husband and wife, but after seeing that you'd started walking out with the Tipperary man, Jonnie Foster, and particularly the way you held his hand as you walked side-by-side, I realised that I represented nothing more to you than a temporary distraction in your life until the real man of your dreams came along.
I wish you all the happiness that God sends your way, Maureen. I hope that your future is kind to you and I thank you for allowing me to momentarily make you a part of my dream. My deepest regret is never having told you that I loved you deeply much earlier than today.
Yours forever,
Jerome Walsh x '
PS. 'When your first love is your true love, don't waste the opportunity and make it your lost love.' This will be my opening lesson during my very first sermon as a parish priest.
When Maureen opened and read this letter, it made her sad that she and Jerome had parted in this way, but as soon as she met up with her sweetheart, Jonnie, later on that evening, she was once more back on cloud nine and was thinking of other pleasures to come her way.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Three weeks later, Jerome, left Portlaw and went into training to join the priesthood. One day after he'd left Portlaw, Jerome's conscience told him to do the decent thing and to write to Maureen and let her know that he intended to become a priest, instead of just disappearing off the face of the earth without a word of explanation, were she to wonder about his sudden absence from the scene.
Two days after writing and posting his letter, Maureen received it:
'Dearest Maureen,
By the time you get this letter I'll be in Dublin where I start my training to become a priest. I had thought about joining the priesthood since I was twelve years old, but after I met you, that intention got pushed into the background as the possibility of another future life started to unfold.
I had hoped that perhaps one day, you and I could have been husband and wife, but after seeing that you'd started walking out with the Tipperary man, Jonnie Foster, and particularly the way you held his hand as you walked side-by-side, I realised that I represented nothing more to you than a temporary distraction in your life until the real man of your dreams came along.
I wish you all the happiness that God sends your way, Maureen. I hope that your future is kind to you and I thank you for allowing me to momentarily make you a part of my dream. My deepest regret is never having told you that I loved you deeply much earlier than today.
Yours forever,
Jerome Walsh x '
PS. 'When your first love is your true love, don't waste the opportunity and make it your lost love.' This will be my opening lesson during my very first sermon as a parish priest.
When Maureen opened and read this letter, it made her sad that she and Jerome had parted in this way, but as soon as she met up with her sweetheart, Jonnie, later on that evening, she was once more back on cloud nine and was thinking of other pleasures to come her way.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Part Two: ' Marriage and breakup'
During their courtship months, like many a young woman who is besotted by a handsome sweetheart, Maureen had been too honest and trustworthy in her approach to Jonnie, while he had kept all his cards close to his chest. Whereas she'd been prepared to reveal all, Jonnie Foster had no intention of showing his hand until he'd played it and had claimed the jack pot.
It was with no great surprise therefore, that Maureen found herself pregnant with child, six months after first meeting Jonnie at the Portlaw Fair.
The couple were married in Carrick on Suir, County Tipperary where Jonnie hailed from and they set up house there in a rented cottage. Jonnie used to travel to Portlaw daily for his job at the Tannery. This journey was seven miles away from the marital home and under normal circumstances, Jonnie would be expected home at the end of his working day, around 6.00 pm. It soon became clear however, that Maureen had married a pig in a poke when she wed Jonnie!
Prior to her marriage, Maureen knew that her handsome sweetheart, like all men who worked hard from 8.30 am until 5.30 pm, liked a glass of Guinness with his work mates at the local pub after his work for the day had ended, but she would never have considered him an alcoholic or a man with a propensity to go with other women whenever the opportunity arose.
Within the first six months of their marriage and the birth of their son, Maureen realised that she'd made a ghastly mistake in her choice of marriage partner. Jonnie went to the pub drinking every night after his day's work in the Tannery and rarely arrived home before the pubs had closed for the night. And when he did deem it fit to show his face, he would be drunk and would complain that his cooked meal was too cold or that the house was too untidy to relax in.
Before he'd taken off his coat he would start shouting at his wife about this and that. Their new-born child would be woken from his sleep with the swearing and shouting and start crying. This bawling would simply make Jonnie shout louder and he'd become angrier and more violent. His only response was to take his ill feelings out on his poor defenceless wife, Maureen. He was, in short, an abusive bully who could say the most scathing of things to a wife who'd never done anything, but good towards him.
Before he'd taken off his coat he would start shouting at his wife about this and that. Their new-born child would be woken from his sleep with the swearing and shouting and start crying. This bawling would simply make Jonnie shout louder and he'd become angrier and more violent. His only response was to take his ill feelings out on his poor defenceless wife, Maureen. He was, in short, an abusive bully who could say the most scathing of things to a wife who'd never done anything, but good towards him.
By the time their son Dave was two years old, his father's violence, which was both daily and brutal in the extreme, became a regular feature of their household. One Thursday evening, as was customary, Maureen went out to confession and took her child with her. She would normally be away from the house for about one and a half hours before getting back home. Upon arrival at the church, she learned that the priest was ill, so she immediately returned home earlier than expected. Upon her early return, she walked in on her husband and the next-door neighbour's 18-year-old daughter making love in their marital bed.
This represented the last straw for Maureen! She blew her fuse and threw the next-door neighbour's dress and underwear out of the front door onto the public street. She knew that she would pay a price for her righteous outburst, but was also determined it would be the last beating Jonnie Foster would ever give her. Knowing this, made was more than happy to take the worse of his blows as he viciously struck her to the ground and kicked her in the ribs later that evening.
This represented the last straw for Maureen! She blew her fuse and threw the next-door neighbour's dress and underwear out of the front door onto the public street. She knew that she would pay a price for her righteous outburst, but was also determined it would be the last beating Jonnie Foster would ever give her. Knowing this, made was more than happy to take the worse of his blows as he viciously struck her to the ground and kicked her in the ribs later that evening.
Shortly after this final row between man and wife, Maureen indicated that as far as she was concerned, their marriage was over and never again would she allow him to touch her. She told him flat out that he'd hit her for the last time and that if he ever approached her in anger again, she'd stab him with a kitchen knife through the heart as he slept.
Jonnie Foster realised that there would be no going back and that the last beating he'd given her had strengthened his wife's resolve to end their union. He therefore decided to cut his losses and after packing his case, he walked out on his wife and child. As he went out the door, he swore that they'd never set eyes on him again. Since that day until this, not one word had been heard from him and nobody in either Portlaw or Carrick-on-Suir ever saw him on their travels. It was generally assumed that he'd hidden himself away in another corner of Ireland or had taken the ferry across to England to start life afresh.
Jonnie Foster realised that there would be no going back and that the last beating he'd given her had strengthened his wife's resolve to end their union. He therefore decided to cut his losses and after packing his case, he walked out on his wife and child. As he went out the door, he swore that they'd never set eyes on him again. Since that day until this, not one word had been heard from him and nobody in either Portlaw or Carrick-on-Suir ever saw him on their travels. It was generally assumed that he'd hidden himself away in another corner of Ireland or had taken the ferry across to England to start life afresh.
Two months after walking out on his wife and their young child, Maureen Foster secured a rented property at 14, William Street, Portlaw for herself and son, Dave, where she lived until the day she died. One of her very first acts upon securing her Portlaw property was to rid herself of every photograph and piece of memorabilia which associated herself with Jonnie Foster. Having done that, she reverted to her maiden name and let it be known that her name was Maureen Doogle. She also had a local man write out the motto that Jerome had sent her in his last letter, in bold black italic lettering which she then had framed and placed in pride of place in the centre of her mantel piece:
'When your first love is your true love, don't waste the opportunity and make it your lost love.'
'When your first love is your true love, don't waste the opportunity and make it your lost love.'
Part Three: 'Lost love'
- After her husband had walked out on her, Maureen Foster reverted to her maiden name of Doogle for her new start in Portlaw. Dave Foster stayed living with his mother in Portlaw until he was twenty-one. Work in Portlaw had started to dry up and after casting his net wider, Dave secured a job in Kilkenny, some thirty miles away. Such a distance was too far and too expensive to travel there and back daily, so he eventually took lodgings in the town of Dungarvan, a few miles distant from his work at the Kilkenny Engineering factory.
Naturally, his mother was sad to see her son leave their house in Portlaw where they'd lived happily for the past 18 years, but she realised that the time comes when it's right for all the young to fly the nest. Dave promised to visit whenever he could.
The house that Dave lodged at in Dungarvan was run by the widow, Molly Monthrose. It was a three bed-roomed property of reasonable rent. The house was situated just up the road from where the annual Sheep Fair was held and the area was one of the best to lodge and was close to the city centre.
The only other house occupant apart from himself and landlady was her 18-year-old daughter, Amy Monthrose. When asked to sign a tenant's agreement, he signed the document with his real name of Dave Foster.
The only other house occupant apart from himself and landlady was her 18-year-old daughter, Amy Monthrose. When asked to sign a tenant's agreement, he signed the document with his real name of Dave Foster.
After Dave had settled in his new digs in Kilkenny, he and Amy, being of similar age, would often take in a movie together or even attend one of the local dances. Initially, it had been Amy who had asked Dave to take her here and there. In fact, she asked Dave to take her to all of the places which her widowed mother wouldn't allow her to go to alone or without a companion she didn't know and trust. Dave was perfectly happy to escort the lovely Amy wherever she wanted taking. He never forgot the first time she showed him the beautiful countryside within the Kilkenny border. They picnicked and had a grand day out.
Neither would Dave ever forget his birthday he had in the house of Amy and Mrs. Monthrose. Mrs Monthrose had baked him a birthday cake and laid on a magnificent birthday spread. Amy had given Dave a special present he was to treasure; a framed photograph of herself on which she'd written, 'To Dave. All my love, Amy xxxx'
Of all the presents she could have given Dave which he would treasure, on a par with his birthday kiss was a framed photograph from Amy of herself which she later inscribed to Dave. These two gifts were more than he could ever have dreamed of. While Dave's feelings for Amy strengthened daily, unknown to him, she was less sure about hers. She regarded Dave fondly as being a good friend whose company she loved being in. Besides, she regarded herself too young to be in any serious relationship yet, though occasionally, her inner feelings longed to have themselves expressed in some substantial form.
Of all the presents she could have given Dave which he would treasure, on a par with his birthday kiss was a framed photograph from Amy of herself which she later inscribed to Dave. These two gifts were more than he could ever have dreamed of. While Dave's feelings for Amy strengthened daily, unknown to him, she was less sure about hers. She regarded Dave fondly as being a good friend whose company she loved being in. Besides, she regarded herself too young to be in any serious relationship yet, though occasionally, her inner feelings longed to have themselves expressed in some substantial form.
Dave stayed at the Monthrose lodgings for only four months, but during this brief spell, he found himself falling in love with his landlady's daughter. Amy was still a young woman. She was a bundle of life and was so much was fun to be around, yet she was still very much at an impressionable age and not quite ready for settling down yet. Dave was good looking and had the kind of eyes that always seemed to be expecting disappointment. They reflected his pronounced lack of confidence and low self- belief.
It is said that fate often repeats itself, and so it proved to be the case when Dave's feelings of love for the youthful Amy went undeclared by this young man of reserved mannerisms. While their only intimate contact had been his birthday kiss and the holding of hands as they'd walked out in the country one Sunday afternoon, Dave was certain that he loved Amy and believed that she was very fond of him also. He tried to work up the courage to tell her so, but each time that the opportunity arose, he froze up and became too shy to declare his love. Part of him feared that she might have said 'no' while another part of him wanted so much to speak out.
It is said that fate often repeats itself, and so it proved to be the case when Dave's feelings of love for the youthful Amy went undeclared by this young man of reserved mannerisms. While their only intimate contact had been his birthday kiss and the holding of hands as they'd walked out in the country one Sunday afternoon, Dave was certain that he loved Amy and believed that she was very fond of him also. He tried to work up the courage to tell her so, but each time that the opportunity arose, he froze up and became too shy to declare his love. Part of him feared that she might have said 'no' while another part of him wanted so much to speak out.
You can imagine the shock therefore, when three weeks later, Amy rushed in the door eager to tell Dave about the new man in her life; a chap called Cyril who'd swept her off her feet the very first time they'd met!
"I just knew it, Dave," she proclaimed ecstatically, 'I just knew it when we kissed that he was the only man for me. Oh, please be happy for me, Dave. Please be happy for Amy!"
"Of course, I'm happy for you, Amy," Dave replied, "so long as you're sure he's the one you want."
"Oh, he's the one, Dave. He's definitely the one for me," Amy replied.
Dave felt like falling through the floor after having been hit by this bombshell. He cursed himself for having waited too long to tell her how he'd felt about her, and now it was too late!
"I just knew it, Dave," she proclaimed ecstatically, 'I just knew it when we kissed that he was the only man for me. Oh, please be happy for me, Dave. Please be happy for Amy!"
"Of course, I'm happy for you, Amy," Dave replied, "so long as you're sure he's the one you want."
"Oh, he's the one, Dave. He's definitely the one for me," Amy replied.
Dave felt like falling through the floor after having been hit by this bombshell. He cursed himself for having waited too long to tell her how he'd felt about her, and now it was too late!
One week later, Dave gave up his job in the Kilkenny engineering factory and moved back to live with his mother at 14, William Street, Portlaw, County Waterford. Naturally his mother was pleased to have her only child living back home with her once more, especially as her health had begun to worsen over the previous months.
Dave was still feeling somewhat dejected and each time he read his mother's motto on the fireplace, he simply became more depressed. Like the man who should have been his father instead of the one who was, he had fallen into a similar trap of losing his one true love through his failure to speak out early enough.
Shortly after his return to live at his mother's house, Dave Foster reverted to his mother's maiden name of Doogle.
Dave was still feeling somewhat dejected and each time he read his mother's motto on the fireplace, he simply became more depressed. Like the man who should have been his father instead of the one who was, he had fallen into a similar trap of losing his one true love through his failure to speak out early enough.
Shortly after his return to live at his mother's house, Dave Foster reverted to his mother's maiden name of Doogle.
Chapter Four: 'Amy's marriage'
Amy's mother, who was quite strict when it came to protocol, persuaded her daughter and her young man Cyril to put off their planned wedding until they'd known each other for three years and were certain that they were right for each other. Both Amy and Cyril reluctantly agreed and rationalised any delay as representing a good opportunity to save up for a good deposit on their own house.
When the time came to be married, shortly after Amy's 21st birthday, the couple decided to buy a cottage in Portlaw, County Waterford. As fate would have it, the house they bought was situated across the street from Dave and his mother's house, about ten yards farther down William Street. Dave couldn't believe his eyes when he spotted Amy and her husband-to-be looking over the property. His sadness was deepened once he learned that Amy and Cyril would be married in the Catholic Church of St. Patrick's in Portlaw at the end of the month!
When Amy and Cyril married at the church on the hill, at the last moment, Dave could not resist the temptation to take a peek as the couple left the church. He felt confident that Amy wouldn't recognise him as he'd shaved off his beard since she'd last seen him, and after all, the length of their acquaintanceship had been no more than a matter of mere months, over three years ago. Amy looked beautiful in her wedding veil and gown. Indeed, she'd been beautiful when Dave had first known her, but had grown more beautiful every year since.
When the time came to be married, shortly after Amy's 21st birthday, the couple decided to buy a cottage in Portlaw, County Waterford. As fate would have it, the house they bought was situated across the street from Dave and his mother's house, about ten yards farther down William Street. Dave couldn't believe his eyes when he spotted Amy and her husband-to-be looking over the property. His sadness was deepened once he learned that Amy and Cyril would be married in the Catholic Church of St. Patrick's in Portlaw at the end of the month!
When Amy and Cyril married at the church on the hill, at the last moment, Dave could not resist the temptation to take a peek as the couple left the church. He felt confident that Amy wouldn't recognise him as he'd shaved off his beard since she'd last seen him, and after all, the length of their acquaintanceship had been no more than a matter of mere months, over three years ago. Amy looked beautiful in her wedding veil and gown. Indeed, she'd been beautiful when Dave had first known her, but had grown more beautiful every year since.
Within a week following Amy's wedding, his mother's health check at the hospital resulted in Dave learning that she had contracted a rare form of Leukaemia; a blood cancer disorder that would inevitably shorten her lifespan and restrict her mobility and the amount of oxygen in her blood as time went on.
The very first instinct that Dave had when he learned that his old sweetheart and her husband-to-be would be living across from him was to move away. However, the news about his mother's ill-health, coupled with the fact that there was simply no way she could be persuaded to move from her Portlaw home meant that he was stuck in the one place in Ireland he least wanted to be! He'd been told by the hospital consultant that his mother would require growing assistance for the rest of her life once her illness had kicked in.
The very first instinct that Dave had when he learned that his old sweetheart and her husband-to-be would be living across from him was to move away. However, the news about his mother's ill-health, coupled with the fact that there was simply no way she could be persuaded to move from her Portlaw home meant that he was stuck in the one place in Ireland he least wanted to be! He'd been told by the hospital consultant that his mother would require growing assistance for the rest of her life once her illness had kicked in.
Over the years that followed, Dave made a point of never crossing William Street or walking past the front door and window of Amy's house where she now lived with her husband. And whenever he left the house, he would lower his head, which he always covered with a brown hat, to avoid any danger of being recognised by Amy.
Imagine growing up loving a beautiful woman who you never dared to proclaim your love for. Then, imagine after having discovered her plans to marry another, you run away from the scene; only to have her and her new husband turn up on your new doorstep three years later. Imagine!
For many years, Dave lived across the street from Amy and her husband. The hurt he had carried away from Kilkenny and which had resided deep down in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about Amy, was resurrected every time he caught a glimpse of her from behind the curtains of his mother's front room. Living so close to her, seeing her daily and never being able to ever touch her again merely increased his sense of loss.
As Dave had changed his name to that of his mother's maiden name, and as he'd deliberately made all effort never to let Amy see his face, and as he never sought to approach her, she was never the wiser in all the years that they lived across the street from each other that she'd ever known him.
Imagine growing up loving a beautiful woman who you never dared to proclaim your love for. Then, imagine after having discovered her plans to marry another, you run away from the scene; only to have her and her new husband turn up on your new doorstep three years later. Imagine!
For many years, Dave lived across the street from Amy and her husband. The hurt he had carried away from Kilkenny and which had resided deep down in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about Amy, was resurrected every time he caught a glimpse of her from behind the curtains of his mother's front room. Living so close to her, seeing her daily and never being able to ever touch her again merely increased his sense of loss.
As Dave had changed his name to that of his mother's maiden name, and as he'd deliberately made all effort never to let Amy see his face, and as he never sought to approach her, she was never the wiser in all the years that they lived across the street from each other that she'd ever known him.
Every morning and every night started and ended with Dave kissing the framed photograph of Amy which was placed at the side of his bed. Now that Amy lived across from him, his feelings became unbearable to deal with, especially on all those family occasions of celebration which occur in every household over the years. Never a day passed when Dave failed to regret not having spoken up for the woman he loved as soon as he knew he loved her.
Dave started to curse himself once more for his non-assertiveness in failing to declare the love he felt for Amy when he'd had the opportunity. How often since that time had he cursed his procrastination, and passing his mother's motto daily merely made him relive the pain whenever he read the framed words in the centre of the mantle piece. His mother may have been foolish allowing the love of her life to pass her by, but he had been the bigger fool, having been warned by her constantly not to repeat her mistake, before doing so!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Dave started to curse himself once more for his non-assertiveness in failing to declare the love he felt for Amy when he'd had the opportunity. How often since that time had he cursed his procrastination, and passing his mother's motto daily merely made him relive the pain whenever he read the framed words in the centre of the mantle piece. His mother may have been foolish allowing the love of her life to pass her by, but he had been the bigger fool, having been warned by her constantly not to repeat her mistake, before doing so!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Over the next eight years, Dave watched Amy's life move on, while his feelings still remained trapped in his regretful past. For years, he kept her image in secret, lodged behind the glass screen of her framed photograph, taunting him day and night of the one that got away. He watched helplessly through his mother's lounge window as he saw her life become more fulfilled while his became emptier and more meaningless and he even left his window part open during those times of day when he knew that she left and returned to her house, just on the off chance that he'd hear her sweet voice say 'Good bye' to some family member.
This situation went on for almost eight years, until the week that Amy and her husband, Cyril, noticed the funeral car outside Number 14, William Street, across the road. After making inquiries, they confirm it to be the body of Maureen Doogle who had passed away.
After the death of his mother, having performed a son's duty, Dave decided to leave her house in William Street. One way or another, he had to rid himself of this constant emptiness he felt every time he saw or thought of Amy. Three weeks after his mother's funeral, Amy's husband saw the furniture removal van outside Dave's house and the emptying of his property.
In all the years Amy and her husband had lived across the road from Dave, not once did they ever cast eyes on their neighbour close enough to speak with him. If ever one of them said, 'Good morning' upon passing him in the street, he would keep his head low as he tipped his cap respectfully. Whenever Dave left his mother's house for any reason, he would always shield his face from recognition of his neighbours across the street. The long and short of it was that Dave was always too embarrassed to let Amy know that he still existed and had lived so close to her for many years. He didn't want her to gain the impression that he'd been stalking her.
One evening, a few months after moving from his mother's house in Portlaw, in moments of aching loneliness his thoughts turned to Amy and the memory of ''what could have been', along with the pain of 'what was to be.' He found such thoughts too hard to bear. He felt like screaming to the high heavens, but instead, he contented myself with the writing of a letter to Amy. In this letter of love, Dave unburdened himself and finally declared his long-held feelings for her, the only woman he had ever loved or ever would; feelings he'd secretly held since those very first days he knew her in Kilkenny.
'Dearest Amy,
Since the first time I saw you in Kilkenny, I have loved you, but was too frightened to declare my feelings. I am so sorry that I didn't tell you how I really felt all those years ago, when I knew you held me in close affection. I let the moment pass, and before I could correct my mistake, you fell in love with another, a much bolder man, who, unlike me, immediately told you how much he loved you and wanted you both to be together as husband and wife.
I have regretted this procrastination of mine every minute of every hour during all the years that have passed by since we walked out briefly. I curse myself for not having had the courage to speak out then and tell you how I felt for you. If only I had dared to speak out then....who knows what might have been between us?
Living across the road from you since your wedding to Cyril (whoever heard of a man called Cyril who was born the son of a Cork miner?), has merely prolonged my lifelong regret. Indeed, had it not been for having to live with my disabled widowed mother for the past eleven years in her property, I would have moved house long ago, rather than endure the daily hurt of seeing your image through my window pane and knowing I could never touch you again. But being stuck with mum kept me stuck with the you I lost, and with the memory of our past and an awareness of a future that wasn't meant to be.
As I have watched your life unfurl in all its chapters over the years, it has been a painful reminder of what I lost through my reticence. I watched you outside the church in your wedding gown as I concealed myself behind a group of spectators. You looked absolutely stunning, like you always did. I've watched your new boyfriend become your husband and then later, I watched him become the father of your three children; the children I had always dreamed of having with you. Each time I looked out from my window and saw you playing happy families, a baser part of me even hoped that your husband might experience a happy accident from which he passed away. I even wished that he had turned cruel, insensitive or unfaithful, so that you would cast him out of your life; thereby leaving room for me to walk back into it.
Today, is one of the worst days of my life and it has left me with an aching, angry emptiness that I know I cannot fill again. My feelings of loneliness and loss have grown more than I've ever felt since mum died a few months ago; leaving me with nobody close to love. After her funeral, I sold up her house in an attempt to bury my memory of you also. How futile a gesture that proved to be. Though I moved house farther away from you, I cannot rid my mind from forever thinking of you; where you are at this precise moment, what you're doing and who with? Every time I shut and open my eyes, your image is the first sight I see. You're like my love leech, draining all my blood to transfuse into your body.
Now, I have told you all there is to tell, Amy, what I should have told you a dozen years ago; that I love you and always have loved you ever since that first time we held hands in the cinema in Kilkenny. Having now served my last duty to my mother, my only remaining purpose in this life is to say a sweet goodbye, Amy. Please stay safe and happy for my sake. Always yours,
Love Dave x'
'Dearest Amy,
Since the first time I saw you in Kilkenny, I have loved you, but was too frightened to declare my feelings. I am so sorry that I didn't tell you how I really felt all those years ago, when I knew you held me in close affection. I let the moment pass, and before I could correct my mistake, you fell in love with another, a much bolder man, who, unlike me, immediately told you how much he loved you and wanted you both to be together as husband and wife.
I have regretted this procrastination of mine every minute of every hour during all the years that have passed by since we walked out briefly. I curse myself for not having had the courage to speak out then and tell you how I felt for you. If only I had dared to speak out then....who knows what might have been between us?
Living across the road from you since your wedding to Cyril (whoever heard of a man called Cyril who was born the son of a Cork miner?), has merely prolonged my lifelong regret. Indeed, had it not been for having to live with my disabled widowed mother for the past eleven years in her property, I would have moved house long ago, rather than endure the daily hurt of seeing your image through my window pane and knowing I could never touch you again. But being stuck with mum kept me stuck with the you I lost, and with the memory of our past and an awareness of a future that wasn't meant to be.
As I have watched your life unfurl in all its chapters over the years, it has been a painful reminder of what I lost through my reticence. I watched you outside the church in your wedding gown as I concealed myself behind a group of spectators. You looked absolutely stunning, like you always did. I've watched your new boyfriend become your husband and then later, I watched him become the father of your three children; the children I had always dreamed of having with you. Each time I looked out from my window and saw you playing happy families, a baser part of me even hoped that your husband might experience a happy accident from which he passed away. I even wished that he had turned cruel, insensitive or unfaithful, so that you would cast him out of your life; thereby leaving room for me to walk back into it.
Today, is one of the worst days of my life and it has left me with an aching, angry emptiness that I know I cannot fill again. My feelings of loneliness and loss have grown more than I've ever felt since mum died a few months ago; leaving me with nobody close to love. After her funeral, I sold up her house in an attempt to bury my memory of you also. How futile a gesture that proved to be. Though I moved house farther away from you, I cannot rid my mind from forever thinking of you; where you are at this precise moment, what you're doing and who with? Every time I shut and open my eyes, your image is the first sight I see. You're like my love leech, draining all my blood to transfuse into your body.
Now, I have told you all there is to tell, Amy, what I should have told you a dozen years ago; that I love you and always have loved you ever since that first time we held hands in the cinema in Kilkenny. Having now served my last duty to my mother, my only remaining purpose in this life is to say a sweet goodbye, Amy. Please stay safe and happy for my sake. Always yours,
Love Dave x'
Dave folded the letter, put it in a manila envelope and placed it on the dressing table. The letter was addressed simply, 'To Amy' and bore no address or surname and was therefore never delivered to the person to whom it had been written. Even at the end, even then, Dave was not bold enough to let Amy know the love he'd held for her so long. And yet, he felt it to be important to express his love for Amy at least once, even were it written in a letter that would never be delivered to its intended recipient.
Two months after the funeral of Dave's mother, Amy's husband, Cyril, was reading the evening newspaper in his lounge one evening while his wife was sitting in the chair across from him reading a book. Cyril suddenly asked, 'Wasn't that the chap who used to live across the road, from us, Amy?' as he showed her a press cutting about Dave from the Munster Express.
Amy looked at the press cutting of Dave and remarked, 'I don't know, Cyril. I've don't really know the man. I hardly ever saw him to put a face to, that I'd remember.'
Her husband replied, 'Yes, it is! I thought it was him. It says here that he used to live at number 14, William Street. He must have been that chap whom we never saw; you know who I mean; the reclusive one who looked after his disabled mother for many years until she died. It would seem that the poor sod was a depressive and he moved to Carrick-on-Suir when he left William Street, It says here in the 'Munster Express' that he drowned himself in the eddy up Curraghmore four days ago. Poor sod!' It also seems that his proper surname was Dave Foster and not Dave Doogle as he went by in Portlaw.'
At that moment, something vaguely familiar about the name made Amy take a second look at the brief press article, but after a few seconds she concluded, 'No! I can't say I ever knew anyone of that description. For a moment, I thought it might have been one of my mother's lodgers from the past!'
Should Dave or his mother return in another form, in another lifetime, I hope they will be brave enough to seize what they want from their lives and hold on tightly to it. Life is too short to settle for less than you deserve. Life is too short to be forever bound by the constraints of convention and the restraints of failing to express one's emotions. Life is there to be lived!
Amy looked at the press cutting of Dave and remarked, 'I don't know, Cyril. I've don't really know the man. I hardly ever saw him to put a face to, that I'd remember.'
Her husband replied, 'Yes, it is! I thought it was him. It says here that he used to live at number 14, William Street. He must have been that chap whom we never saw; you know who I mean; the reclusive one who looked after his disabled mother for many years until she died. It would seem that the poor sod was a depressive and he moved to Carrick-on-Suir when he left William Street, It says here in the 'Munster Express' that he drowned himself in the eddy up Curraghmore four days ago. Poor sod!' It also seems that his proper surname was Dave Foster and not Dave Doogle as he went by in Portlaw.'
At that moment, something vaguely familiar about the name made Amy take a second look at the brief press article, but after a few seconds she concluded, 'No! I can't say I ever knew anyone of that description. For a moment, I thought it might have been one of my mother's lodgers from the past!'
Should Dave or his mother return in another form, in another lifetime, I hope they will be brave enough to seize what they want from their lives and hold on tightly to it. Life is too short to settle for less than you deserve. Life is too short to be forever bound by the constraints of convention and the restraints of failing to express one's emotions. Life is there to be lived!
So, take your chance on life and love when it comes your way. Seize the moment and don't blow the opportunity. The future is promised to no one. Go for it now! The most perfect time to pursue your dreams is when you are in the midst of reverie and are experiencing the sheer hallucination of unbridled happiness.'
'When your first love is your true love, don't waste the opportunity and make it your lost love.'
The End.
Copyright: William Forde: February, 2017.
'When your first love is your true love, don't waste the opportunity and make it your lost love.'
The End.
Copyright: William Forde: February, 2017.
