I moved just before the pandemic hit and returned to Dublin after 20 happy years in Meath. I left behind close friends, hobbies and organizations that I was a part of.
I’ll be honest – it was hard to make new friends, with the last two years depreciating.
I don’t have a ‘school gate’ anymore, and the fundraisers, committees and local events took a hit. But I’m willing to try, and it’s a little easier now to get to know the locals.
But what if I was a different kind of person? Someone who was nervous around new people or was socially anxious or particularly introverted?
What if I could barely bear the idea of walking into somewhere alone, desperate for a friendly face, but mortified when there was none?
What if I was someone who had nothing in common with neighbors? Or if I was someone for whom spending time or chatting was a worrisome activity, something I wasn’t used to or didn’t enjoy?
What if, instead of moving to another country, I had moved to country and culture?
For Nicholas and Hilary Smith, the elderly English couple whose bodies were tragically discovered in Tipperary earlier this month after lying undiscovered for at least a year (supposedly), the grief is compounded by the fact that it has proved difficult to , family or friends, who may have missed them, or who can give them a proper burial.
Investigations have been done as far as France and Australia in the hope that someone – anyone – can claim them.
A report suggested Mr Smith had a brother who lived in the UK but they hadn’t spoken in decades. Another said the extremely private couple had paid a gardener to mow their lawn with a one-year advance payment. He did so diligently and continued even when the advance ran out.
Locals—who, in a rural village, might reasonably be expected to know not only everyone around, but their entire family and backstories—had long decided that the Smiths simply didn’t want or value contact, or even passerby geniuses. So they were left alone.
Those same locals are rightly hesitant at the idea that no one cared about the Smiths. Some people have suggested that by not noticing that the Smiths were not there, in the post office, pub or shop, they couldn’t be bothered to look out for them. The truth is, they respected the choice – voiced or not – of this reclusive couple.
After three years, I’ve only met a handful of locals in my new neighborhood. I hope to improve that now, but that’s my choice. It may not belong to someone else.
If a neighbor four doors down is in an emergency, or seriously ill, would I know? I doubt it. And yet I would be horrified to read in the papers that they had died without anyone noticing.
I would feel shame and sadness because of my closeness. For the people of Cloneen, who club together to bury the Smiths, should know that they did the right thing.