My name is Reagan Colleen O'Connor. I was born on July 10th, 1902 in Galway, Ireland. My life has never been easy, but I count my blessings and thank the good Lord for everything he's given me.
The first three years of my life were pure bliss. I didn't have a care in the world. I lived with my Mama and Pa on a small plot of land in the country. My Pa was an animal farmer. We lived in a modest, but comfortable home two miles away from the nearest town. Our land consisted of our house, a barn, and plenty of open space for the animals to roam. The grass was greener there than I've ever seen it anywhere else. I remember it vividly. You see, I've always had a pretty good memory. Sometimes it's a blessing and other times, I feel it's more like a curse.
My Mama was sweet and gentle. She had beautiful, curly, blonde hair. Her eyes were electric blue. That was the one thing I got from her. In every other way, I look like my Pa. Straight dark brown hair. Freckles in a wave across my face. Built strong, yet still slender. But, my eyes. The spitting image of hers. That is the one thing I remember most about Mama. She died in the August of 1905, giving birth to my younger brother Odhran. The doctors called Odhran a "miracle baby" because of how unlikely it was that he survived. My Mama however, was not so fortunate.
Life changed quite a bit after my Mama died. My Pa couldn't handle the constant flooding memories of her in our home so he quit being an animal farmer and moved us into a flat in Dublin. He hired a nanny to stay with us while he worked long into the night. During the day he would do his best to spend time with us and not fall asleep. I can't imagine the relief he felt when we started school and the Brewery let him have regular daytime work.
From the ages of five to sixteen I went to catholic school in Dublin. I was always pretty good at school and my Pa said it was because my mind was sharper than the edge of a sword. I loved solving problems and using creativity to change my perspective of learning. My brother Odhran was quite the opposite. He hated school and wanted more than everything to dropout. He was good at working with his hands and thought school was a waste of time.
My Pa did his best to hide his grief about my Mama dying, but we could always see it lurking there. I remember once when I was eight years old, I thought I heard a noise from outside one night and I crept out of bed to look outside my window. I looked down on the street and saw my Pa on the stoop of our flat. He was crying harder than I had seen anyone cry before and he was bent over on his knees doing his best not to scream. I opened the window so I could hear him better. It took all of one minute for me to figure out who he had been talking to. He was talking to God. Or rather, he was yelling at God. I won't repeat the words he said, but never in my life have I heard somebody in so much anguish and despair.
My Pa tried to give us the best childhood he could. He would always try to shield the wicked ways of the world away from us and he made us laugh harder than anyone. A lot of families had their sons quit school to get a job when times were tough but my Pa wouldn't let Odhran. My brother begged and pleaded with him but Pa wouldn't budge. He wanted us to get an education and to stay children as long as we could.
Everything changed when I turned sixteen. That fall, my Pa got scarlet fever and he died three months later. We were devastated. Our whole world came crumbling down. I quit school to get a job in a sewing factory and Odhran took up odd jobs he found around town. We managed on our own like this for two years until Odhran caught the fever. He died eleven months later. He was just barely sixteen. I had no one left. Everyone who I loved had left me in this world alone. I was furious.
