The Real Side of Study Abroad – The (Im)Perfect Pint

It’s been exactly two weeks since I left for Ireland and almost two since I got back, so the timing of this may seem a bit off. The reason it’s taken so long for me to write about this trip and what I took from it is I wanted to make sure I got everything about this post exactly right. Even with that delay, I guarantee it still isn’t perfect and that’s okay. But we’ll get there.

Two weeks ago, I woke up stressed about my upcoming trip to Ireland. I had planned everything down to the letter – tours at the perfect times, transport to and from places in perfect order, accommodations in perfect locations – everything was set to be perfect. The only source of my stress was that I wouldn’t get to the airport with enough time to get through security and get to my plane on time because I had been told Ryanair is not exactly speedy with its pre-flight arrangements. My parents had left London the day before to head back to the US, so I figured getting out of town for a few days would be a good way to cope with them leaving. Despite the stress, I was ready to have a great time in the land of my heritage.

Then my mom called to tell me my grandfather had passed away earlier that morning.

My grandfather’s name was Robert Jennings, but we always called him Grampy. He and my grandmother had lived across the street from my family and me since I was four years old, and they were as big a part of my life as anyone I ever encountered. But that applied to my grandfather especially. We were kindred spirits in a way. He saw himself in me from a young age, and I think he wanted me to be like him when I grew up. So he raised me that way.

Throughout my developmental years, I followed in his footsteps, playing baseball, cracking inappropriate jokes and falling head over heels into golf and tennis. As I got better, he became more and more invested with my game, always telling me he “saw me in the paper” when I had a good round or won a match. He was, in a sense, one of my biggest inspirations.

But around the time my parents were about to come over to London to visit, he got sick and had to go to the hospital. At first, it all seemed relatively minor and he would be back home in no time. But two days before my parents left, he took a turn for the worse and had to go to the ICU. Luckily enough, we had family who were willing to take care of him while my family visited me across the pond.

So the visit went according to plan. My parents and I had some great meals, saw some great sights and appropriately celebrated my 21^st birthday in the UK. On top of it all, by the time they left, it seemed like Grampy was starting to stabilize. With everything seeming to end happily, it seemed like the trip was going to be a great success.

But then I got that call.

Apparently he had passed away peacefully in his sleep the night my parents got back. It was exactly the way he would have wanted, but it was still heartbreaking all the same. Just like that, he was gone.

I was in between classes when my parents called. I did my best to navigate through crowds of people while trying to figure out if I needed to come home or if I should stay in London or if I should go to Ireland or if I should skip classes for the rest of the day or if I should shut down and not talk to anyone for the rest of the day. I just couldn’t believe it.

I ended up going to my last two classes of the day, but in retrospect I probably shouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t focus on the material at hand, I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling up with tears and I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the man I grew up idolizing was not going to be around anymore. It was all too much to process.

And I still had this trip to Ireland I was supposed to go on.

I was pretty sure I was always going to go, but all of the sudden, I was dreading the whole prospect of the trip. It wasn’t going to be fun for me because I knew I would be sad the whole time. But when I needed it most, my parents ended up being the ones to convince me to go. They sent separate texts with the same message.

“It’s what Grampy would want you to do.”

And so I went. I broke down on the train, I broke down on the plane, but ultimately, I made it Ireland. And I did everything exactly how I had planned it out. And despite all odds, I had a great trip.

And I did it because I knew that’s exactly how Grampy would have wanted me to do it.

He was always the life of the party, no matter where he went. He could light up a room in an instant, and was always down to have a good time. He wouldn’t have wanted me to sulk. He would have wanted me to experience Dublin, drink some beer and have the time of my life. And so I did that, by wandering around Dublin aimlessly, touring the Jameson Distillery, experiencing the history of my heritage at the EPIC Emigration Museum and becoming the King of the North on a rain-soaked Game of Thrones tour in Belfast.

But the most meaningful thing I did in Dublin was at the Guinness Storehouse. More than anything, Grampy wanted me to drink some beer while I was overseas, but he had a certain affinity for Guinness. I don’t know what it was about the black stuff, but he told me all the time how he wanted me to drink some Guinness while I was over there. I’m sad to say I didn’t get to report to him that I drank any, but my solution may have been better.

After I finished my tour, there was a part of the storehouse that allowed you to pour the perfect pint of Guinness. And I’ll be damned if I didn’t pour it perfectly to the brim with the foam just barely glancing over the edges. It would’ve made any good Irishman cry. And so, the day after he passed, I honored my grandfather by drinking the perfect pint of Guinness, poured in his honor, in the heart of Dublin. I know in my heart that he was looking down on me with a big old smile on his face. Because that’s exactly how he would have wanted it.

So, while I’ll always have regrets that I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye and I didn’t get to see him in his final days, I know Grampy is proud of me. I did it exactly how he would have wanted me to. I guess the lesson in all this is even when things don’t go according to plan, there’s always a way to make the most of the situation and have a great time regardless. That was Grampy’s creed and it’s something I’m going to carry with me for the rest of my days.

And while I still miss Grampy like hell and I likely will for a while, I know he’ll always be keeping an eye on me, making sure my Guinness is perfectly poured every time.