Dictionary.com defines solace as comfort in sorrow, misfortune, or trouble; alleviation of distress or discomfort.
Brian O' translates the Irish word solas several ways:
Solas (Sol-as) - light, brightness
Solas an lae (Sol-as un lay) daylight
Solas (Sol-as) - enlightenment
But tonight especially:
Sólás (So-lawss) - comfort, reassurance, consolation
It has been an intense evening, in need of both solas and sólás. Shortly after we arrived at my grandmother's house outside Chicago, the gusts and lightening rose to knock power in and out. Not a steady blackout, but a constant brush with darkness. Teasing, threatening. Despite, we managed games and dinner, and a bit of light hearted (croí solas) talk.
Not all was croí solas. Throughout the evening my grandmother sank further into the darkness (gan solas). Well into the stages of Alzheimer's, conversations became strained as we repeated the same banter: where did we live? how long were we staying to visit? did we know her songs were on the radio, stolen by the lady who came to her house? wasn't it nice she could come visit our beautiful house; it reminds her so much of her own!
That last comment hit me hard each time she came back around. No, Grandma, this is your house. Oh, really? She'd answer, truly surprised. I live in a nice house I guess.
She doesn't have a home any more.
To her, home is 40 years away, in a little house on Nelson Street in Chicago. Not her house on Pitcher Drive from my own childhood memories; hunting for fireflies or playing games late into the night. And certainly not this place, where strange ladies come and steal her songs to put on the radio, and she always has her friend underfoot (who was hired several years ago as a live in aid). As we left, she told us how nice it was to meet us. It was all I could do to not hold back tears.
Arriving at the hotel, my fiddle became my immediate solace. My comfort. My light in the darkness. Sólás.
