If it is true that God speaks in irony, then my story is a case in point. She was the Loyalist and I the agitator, yet it was I who stayed. It was my activities which called attention to our family, alerted the authorities and, ultimately, incurred their wrath. She, who loved her country right or wrong, forced to flee her homeland and leave behind all she knew.
At the gangway, I sought to comfort her that we would see each other again, that this was only temporary. We knew it wasn’t true. The home we knew was already gone, changed into something else and never to return.
I stood well back from the crowd as the ships left the jetty, ever alert to the approach of police or soldiers. The captain allowed a single blast of farewell from the ship’s horn as they slipped into the fog.