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The two girls looked at each other eyes wide and mouths open. They moved over to there Da arms open in a comforting manner absolutely shocked at the news.
"My God, Da that's awful" Margaret gasped, both her and Phylises hands wrapped tightly around their distressed father. James had been awfully close with Patrick McNulty and the Daly's had spent countless afternoons sharing tales and story's with the family down the road.
And now he was gone.
A man, the same age as Margaret's father had died. A man who was too good for the world let alone a small family in Ireland with nothing to give.
A heavy feeling settled itself in Margaret's stomach, one she couldn't exactly explain but still somehow made sense when it came.
"Anyway, you should get on with your chores" James piped up, quickly breaking away from the embrace. He was never one for that sort of stuff but if he cared you'd know. The sisters stood up straighter than before staring intently at their father.
Margaret wouldn't know what shed'd do if she ever lost her father.
Would she cry for the rest of her life? That seemed like a reasonable solution but, who would provide for the family? Her thoughts overwhelmed her the heavy feeling intensifying.
"Go, go on," He told the two wanting to be left by himself to mourn. Phyllis and Margaret slowly walked towards the old door that lead to the fields behind their small farmhouse. They gave their Da one more glance before filing out into the fresh air.
The heavy feeling travelled with Margaret through two large fields her eyes wide and lips slightly parted.
A sentence was forming in her mind but every time she came close to remembering it, it would vanish.
It was something someone said. argh but who?
Something Mick said. Ughh but when?
Something Mick said last night...
Suddenly a memory hit her like a ton of bricks.
it was said that the banshee only kneend for family's who's surnames include an 'o' or an 'Mc' such as McNeil or O'Brien but, in reality. she favored the names as there had been countless other families with similar accounts.
Mick's words from last night. The wailing. It all made sense.
