The Healing Journey

August 21, 2025

Memories I Wanted To Share …

By Maureen Munger

Grief can be so sneaky.

In my childhood, my family and I had stayed with my mom’s cousin at his “Hotel” in the Catskills. Think of the movie “Dirty Dancing,” only Irish. The place was always noisy, with kids running around, an extravagant bar that was always crowded, and usually full of laughter. The back room was the dance hall, and dance we did! The music was traditional Irish, and as kids we enthusiastically learned the reels and sets. When we tired of the grownups, we retreated to the staff quarters where the older teenagers, imported from Ireland for the summer, regaled us with stories under the stars. It was all so exciting!

Coming upon the building recently with my husband, I had the strangest feeling stepping out of the car, undecided as to whether I actually wanted to go inside. What if it was all changed? But go inside we did. I was transported back in time. The bar looked exactly the same. We ordered a beer and spoke with a man at the bar, who had been a staff member 50 years ago, happily reminiscing, telling stories about how special a place it had been for both of us. After about an hour, we walked out of the building into the sunlight.

I was full to the brim of memories. I achingly wanted to share them — with my folks, my brothers, my aunts and uncles, to remember together. The sudden and sad realization of having no one left in this world who would understand knocked the breath out of me.

I thought I had worked through my grief and over time become almost comfortable with it, but this sneaked in and reminded me how painful it was, and still is, under all the layers I’ve built over it.

That visit was a gift. In one sense I felt bereft, but in a larger sense, I was, and am, so grateful for the memory of how loved, how blessed I have been in my family.

(Vintage postcard of Phelan’s in Leeds, NY, from the 1950s.)

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