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Tue 06 Jun 2010Harsh reality of death is that life goes on
As an undertaking family, the mortuary became an extension of our home. Death was normal, writes ELAINE BYRNE
BEFORE WE built our funeral home, we planted potatoes in the top field. Delicately measured rows of hand ploughed drills with seeds waiting to grow. They were then proudly harvested in the hour before dinner with my grandfather’s ragged three-pronged fork. When the frost threatened to come, the potatoes were piled deep into big hairy bags and stored in one of the stony farmsheds away from the sow pigs.
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