With St. Patrick’s Day upon us, I’ve been thinking about luck a lot and specifically the luck of the Irish.
My husband revels in his Irishness. Even though he’s only 25% Irish, with the last name Donnelly he feels entitled to the full 100%.
I, on the other hand, have absolutely no Irish in me as far as I can tell. Not one single drop of blood. My mother, who was a genealogy addict, tracked our family history back to the Crusades and confirmed there is no Irish lineage on either side. Therefore, there’s no Irish luck.
Having lost both of my parents when I was young, the luck of the Irish, or lack thereof, sometimes seems to mock me. It’s easy to get down in the dumps about my reality especially when I see my friend’s posts about their parents.
But, luck of the Irish be damned, I am incredibly lucky. My experiences with loss have both inspired and compelled me to start a business that helps families in the same position I was in, and if I only help one other person then I consider myself lucky. Furthermore, I have an amazing husband, kids, friends, as well as my good health. Maybe luck is being able to see the good side of things even when you don’t want to.
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