It Was Only Just A Dream

Fourteen days have passed since I landed at the Gerald R. Ford International Airport in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Fourteen days have elapsed since I’ve seen a mountain or experienced the hospitality that is part of the Irish culture. Fourteen days is how long it has taken me to come to the realization that I am no longer in Ireland.

I suppose that I should tell anyone who is still checking this blog about our last 12 hours in Tully Cross. I went on my final walk down to Tully Beach for one last thought collecting session on the rocks as I watched the sun begin to set across the Irish landscape. With Ken’s camera at the ready, I captured my last moments on the Tully Beach as I sat alone with my thoughts about the past fifteen weeks. I remembered how scared I was as I got on our first plane from Grand Rapids to Cleveland. Scared not only of flying, but also of what lay ahead for me for the next four months. I hardly knew anyone going on the trip, my three cottage mates had all been good friends with each other since freshman year, I had never lived more than half an hour away from my parents, and to top it all off, I was suffering from an “identity crisis” in that, I didn’t know what I wanted for myself in life. Sitting on the rock that I had sat on so many times before simply contemplating life, I realized that I was at peace in Ireland. And even though it had become safe out there, I knew it had to end.

I retreated back to my cottage, taking the walk from Tully one last time very slowly. As I moved, the Sun moved down below Tully Mountain. It was a clear night, and I couldn’t have asked for a better final few hours in Tully Cross. As I returned, cottage six was preparing itself for our final night where we would start in their cottage and make our way over to the pubs. We played the “Never Have I Ever” game in cottage six…which became interesting to play after the past semester. Almost everyone made it over to cottage six with the exception of cottage nine, but I met up with them in Sammons and hung out with them in the back for a while. This was all during the Mussel Festival, so it was extremely crowded in the pubs, something that not many of us enjoyed. We hung out, had Guinness, and kept the conversation light with the locals who kept asking us “So when will you be back?” There was no real way to answer that, except for asserting, “Eventually, I’ll make it back here.”

When we realized that most of our group was over at Coynes, we made the trek over to the other pub and discovered a disco in the back underneath the tent they were using for the Mussel Festival Cooking Competition. Everyone was on the dance floor. They played Leaving on a Jet Plane which tugged hard on our emotions, but we made the best of it. Tears were definitely shed on the dance floor, but so we some pretty epic dance moves. Even Dr. Dawson got into dancing with us (after taking a chug from my beer that she felt entitled to). The dance ended, and we filed out of the tent across the street for what would be our last trek home from the pub. We showered, since we had about 21 hours of traveling ahead of us, and took care of any last minute packing that needed to occur. Some took the time to say goodbye to the locals. I took the time to myself to lie out under the stars one last time and simply gaze at the night sky. I hope it doesn’t come as a shock to anyone, but as I laid there and realized what I was leaving, I started to cry. Tears of joy for being able to go home and see my family and meet my newborn nephew; Tears of relief for actually making it through what in some ways was my most challenging semester not just academically, but socially. Tears of sadness over departing the land and the locals we had gotten to know and my AQ Tully Cross family. Tears.

We gathered in the study cottage for some snacks Dr. Dawson had gotten for us. It was a somber atmosphere. Oddly enough, it reminded me of our first meeting in the Study Cottage on the first day, when none of us knew what to expect and were completely introverted since we didn’t know anyone or anything. Owen came with the bus around 3:15 a.m. and we packed up the bus with our luggage. Everyone was reluctant to leave the Study Cottage, realized that the only place to go was on the bus. Dr. Dawson made us form a line and we set up a “hug assembly line” and said our goodbyes to her, Beth (who was staying in Ireland to travel with her family), Patrick and Brian. I boarded the bus, and turned around and saw Tully Cross fade into the darkness, I again began to cry.

We successfully navigated our way through Newark and Cleveland airports after Jake, Vaughn and I stopped to get burritos since we had been craving Mexican food for about two months. We simply sat there and talked about the semester and reflected on the past four months and how we’ve changed. I began to process Ireland all together, and how it will impact me in the weeks to come.

We landed in Grand Rapids around 7:30 p.m. and after almost an entire day of traveling, I was exhausted both physically and mentally. We came out of the gate and I was greeted by Mom, Dad, Chris, Jenny, and Carson all holding Pope Flags. I finally got my to meet my nephew; suddenly, being home didn’t seem so bad. Our group said our goodbyes to each other and we parted ways…

It’s been just over two weeks. Tully Cross and my entire study abroad experience in Ireland feels like a dream. I know it happened. It DID happen. But there’s something about being home that makes it seem like it was unreal. I saw a lot of my friends on campus the first week back and endured what I was expecting – a major reverse culture shock. I didn’t know how to convey four months of my life to them, and I felt disconnected from them as well. I sought out Ireland people who were on campus that week, thankfully. It makes the nostalgia a little easier to handle, and talking with people who had been on the trip in years past. It’ll just take time…

I’ve changed. In the past four months, my hair has grown significantly longer than it ever has before, my liver has gotten much stronger due to too much time and money spent at the pub, and I’ve realized that I can wear clothes more than once without having to wash them. But I’ve also changed in ways that are less tangible, but more powerful. I am calm and more at peace with life. I went into Ireland in chaos, having little sense of who I was and what I truly wanted in life. I got answers I’d been waiting for and made friends with some of AQ’s finest. I was able to breathe for the first time in what seemed like two years. It had became a safe environment, unplugged from the rest of society, and sometimes even the world.

But all good things must come to an end unfortunately. I have my ups and downs of missing Tully Cross. It hasn’t been easy, but in the end, I know it’s been worth it. I’m still processing the past four months and what I’ve learned about myself and life, but from what I’ve discovered so far, I know that Ireland was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I miss it, and I’ll be going back within the next few years, count on it.

Until that time comes…

Peace. Love. Ireland.

Rob