Carbally Church is one of those places that seems to not want to be in the limelight and always shrinks away when I try to take a photograph of it. It’s also locked unless there’s a need for it to be open.
However, it’s a place that has been at the centre of many of the key ceremonies of my life: our wedding day; our son’s christening; and Father’s funeral service.
It’s located about 6 miles from Tramore on a back road to Dunmore East and not far from where the Back Strand of Tramore Beach begins or ends ~ depending on how you look at it.
It’s odd how one church could be the scene of such a variety of different personal events, all involving many of the same people.
There’s a host of moments I associate with Carbally Church but the outstanding one is sitting in the car with Father high up on the hill looking down on everyone chatting in the churchyard for ten or fifteen minutes before he
walked me, I half-ran him up the aisle, to his whispered utterings, Slow down, this isn’t a 20 yard dash!
We were laughing and joking; spotting who was talking to who; working like commentators on how everyone was looking since we’d last seen them; wondering could that big tall, strapping young man really be the the baby we both thought we’d seen only a couple of weeks before.
I was aware that this was a moment of moments and one I was unlikely ever to forget. Every single time I pass Carbally Church now, I wonder how Father was feeling as we chatted.
I never, ever thought to ask him even though we passed the church hundreds of times after on our drives together to lovely Dunmore East.
I suspect he would have given me a quip of an answer and kept that poker face on which he always prided himself.