The Story of Circle of Life

[To recap:  During our visit to Galway, I wanted to check out the Circle of Life Commemorative Garden, which is dedicated to people who were organ donors.  This is what happened while we were there.  As Eli wrote on his Facebook post, if I were to tell you about the events that took place, you would think I were pulling your leg.  But I promise, this actually happened.]

As I moved through the garden, I saw this bench.  The inscription reads "This garden, dedicated to organ donors and their families, was inspired by the life and memory of Éamonn Goggin."  It made me wonder about this person's story - what had happened to lead to the inspiration for a memorial garden.

I had been hearing a chiming sound, and I wondered if it were part of a garden feature.  It stopped and then started again, and I realized it was coming from a cell phone that had been left on top of one of the standing stones.

Eli picked up the phone and tried to determine the best way to locate the owner.  It wasn't locked so he was considering returning the call that had just come in or perhaps looking through recent texts to try to find a regular contact.

As he pondered a course of action, the phone rang again and the screen noted the caller as "Aaron."  Eli felt a contact with only a first name would probably be someone close to the owner but even so, he answered the phone and immediately said he wasn't the phone's owner, that it had been left in the garden, and was the caller able to reach out to the owner?

The phone's owner was with Aaron.  Aaron asked if we could hang out for a little bit, as the owner was at the hotel right next to the garden and would be arriving momentarily.  We were told to expect a "65-year-old man swearing a grey jumper."  [For those unfamiliar, a jumper is a sweater.]

A few minutes later, the man in the grey jumper arrived.  He was beyond thrilled to have his phone back.  He said that he had thousands of contacts contained in it, and he wasn't relishing having to start from scratch in rebuilding the list.

He was happy to meet American tourists, and in typical Irish fashion, he warmly welcomed my mom and Barb to Ireland.  He asked what had brought us to the garden.

Eli explained that he and I (and Mom - I don't know Barb's feelings on the matter) were proponents of organ donation.  He launched into a story telling us about the inspiration for the garden, about its planning and construction.

The name I had seen earlier and wondered about - Éamonn Goggin - was the garden's inspiration.  He died in a car crash some 20 years ago at age 26, shortly after telling his mother he would wish to be an organ donor if something ever happened to him.

Our new friend told us that the early attempts to get the garden approved were ignored multiple times by the city council until apparently they got tired of saying no and said yes just to stop the conversation.

He said this font (which we were standing near while hearing this story) was unearthed from the site of an ancient church.  All of the other stonework had been scavenged, and the font was buried until someone happened to come across it.  The church had stood only a few hundred meters from the hospital where Éamonn's organs were harvested for transplant.

He talked passionately about the wonderful generosity of people who offered time, talent, and treasure to bring this garden into bloom.  Stones were sourced from all over Ireland.  He spoke of a couple of people who were instrumental in helping create the garden.  There are benches to either side of this font.  One has a carved angel to recognize a volunteer named Angeline; the other had a carved rose to recognize a volunteer named Rose.

It was wonderful to be regaled with stories from such a joyful and enthusiastic ambassador.  We couldn't believe our good fortune in meeting someone who knew so much about the garden.

Reader, by now you may've guessed the twist this tale is about to take.  The reason our new friend was so knowledgeable about this space is because he was Denis Goggin, Éamonn's father.

Do you have chills yet?  I feel my heart beating faster, just remembering this encounter.

Denis had been meeting earlier with a person he described as "the man who built the park," chatting with him about a commemorative event that was to take place in May, and he walked away without his phone.

He said he didn't know how to thank us.  I think I said something like "Your smile is the best thank you."  I also told him he needed to write a book.

After many magical moments, we said our goodbyes and parted ways.  Quite honestly, I almost felt as though I'd left my body because this encounter pretty much pole-axed me.

Days later, the four of us were still remarking on the wonder of what had happened.   Further adding to the wonder is the fact that Denis' phone was down to 7% power - how much longer would it have continued to ring before the battery gave out? 

How is it we were there at that exact time?  All of our movements throughout the day culminated in our being there at this precise moment.  If we had spent more or less time on the promenade, spent more or less time at the shop or the restaurant, visited Galway on a different day - this probably wouldn't have happened.  Every single second was synchronized, perfectly aligned with the Universe to bless us with such a special and memorable gift.

If you would like to learn more about Circle of Life and to see more photos, please visit:  Circle of Life - Garden of Commemoration & Thanksgiving - Strange Boat Donor Foundation