Photograph: Eric LukeI was in my early 20s, giddy to be home for Christmas, sitting in front of the fire. In his 17 years dealing with Parkinson’s Disease, it was the only time I ever heard him complain. He was a tall handsome man – the disease never really took that away – and he was a superb golfer. Once when he and my mother arrived down to swim in Clashganny, the river line was blocked with dredging machines. “We swam around in the leaf green light.”[ Father’s Day: My father before he was a dadOpens in new window ]Did he know that would be the last time he’d ever speak to me?

Source: The Irish Times December 25, 2025 06:54 UTC