"Afraid you'll be hungry, mother?" he asked. A light shone in his grey eyes then he stretched out his right hand. "Ye're too young to handle a currach and as the proverb has it, 'One year matures a child greatly,'" "It's a pity he won't stay with ye for another year," I said. While we were eating I told Tomás that Pádraig intended going to America. We had the tea ready and no one else in the house had as yet risen. We had no turf on the Island that year the fuel we used was heather from the hill, and that was the fuel I bought dearly! On the morning of Friday the 20th day of April, Tomás and myself were up early. When a person thinks his life is going smoothly then it changes as if he were a cat's-paw of fate that's true saying for it's exactly what happened to me, alas, in the year 1920. Tomás dies accidentally – Pádraig and Cáit go to America – My husband dies – Muiris, Eibhlín and Micheál leave me one after the other – Micheál's poetry SEE ALSO Arts: Modern Irish and Anglo-Irish Literature and the Arts since 1800 Blasket Island Writers Literature: Twentieth-Century Women Writers He eventually returned to Ireland, the last of the Blasket Island poets. Her son, Micheál Ó Guithín, leaves her a poem as a souvenir before departing for the United States. Coming from Peig Sayers's famous autobiography, first published in 1936 in Irish, this passage deals with the deaths or emigration to America of most of her remaining loved ones.
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