Templebreedy: A respite for souls and sisters

We woke in the late morning with “thick heads” and drank our tea. The clouds on the horizon hung over the upper fields behind the housing estate in buoyant, dust-colored puffs. It was Monday in Crosshaven. In the days before, sounds of merrymaking had mixed with sea breezes as out-of-town guests and other members of the wedding we’d just attended took over the village. But now Brightwater, a tidy little enclave of houses nestled in the hillside, was quiet and still. In the marina, tiny waves slapped against boat hulls, and the only commotion was from the sky, where seagulls swooped in circular patterns as they called for their breakfast from above.

Less than 45 minutes from Crosshaven by foot, Templebreedy (or Brigid’s Temple, as the true translation from Irish would read), has long-beckoned to locals, who ascend through the Cruachan woods and past the Holy Wells of St. Mary and St. Brigid on weekends, lured by fresh air and unparalleled views of Church and Fennels Bay. From a distance, Templebreedy is unassuming—the crumbling ruins of a church built in 1779. Once inside the graveyard gate, however, it is clear we have entered a sanctuary of the spirit, a place of contemplation and communion.

With the roof of the church long gone, the interior of the sanctuary is, fittingly, open to the heavens…

A Celtic cross stands framed in a windowless archway.

As my husband and I stand together with my brother- and sister-in-law, our walking guides for the day, a butterfly flutters into one of the doorways. Haltingly, it lights on several daisies that have sought shelter against the high winds, before coming to rest reassuringly on my palm.

Irish folklore says that butterflies are the souls of the dead waiting to cross over. I smile, because I sense this is true, for it happens to be the second anniversary of my sister’s passing, and, whether we knew it this morning or not, we’d come to Templebreedy for this very reason…