My maternal grandmother always said she was Irish, although my dad comes down on the side of the family being Welsh. My mom was very proud to be Irish and the ballad Danny Boy was a song she used to love to sing.
My grandmother had that sixth sense some of the Irish are known for: knowing things had happened before she was told or being able to predict what would happen and seeing the ghosts of departed family members.
My uncles, who never set foot on the Old Sod, were still said to have kissed the Blarney Stone. Some maybe more than once.
Therefore it seemed very appropriate that it was St. Patrick's Day seven years ago that mom was called home to God. I love you Momma and I miss you.