Suzanna told me a story I hadn't heard.
When My grandmother Julia McTighe Carney died, the family must have been very poor. They apparently couldn't afford to have a grave marker made by a professional, so they carved their own. It was somewhat crudely done. Here is a picture of the stone. I don't know how they squared the stone or who did the carving. It is evident that it wasn't a professional.
To get the stone to the old graveyard in Kildownet, would have been a difficult trek on foot even with using a donkey to carry the stone. The best way to travel was by water. The story as it was told is that the "boys" made the journey. I guess it may have been Michael and Patrick. John most likely had already imigrated to the U. S.
Click here to see enlarged picture of Julia's Grave
The family lived in Saula in a house very near the shore of Achill Sound The Sound is the strait of water that connected Blacksod Bay to Clew Bay. The cemetery itself ran down the to the shore of the Sound opposite Corraun. The boat they used would have been a Currach or a yawl.
The type of yawl used in Achill was double ended making them easy to land on the strand and the stern cut the approaching waves when they landed. The yawl would have had a seat at both ends and a mast in the middle. They would have had to make the trip at high tide, as low
tide would have resulted in them being grounded on sandbanks. The journey would take them under the bridge at the Sound. At that point, they would have to lower the mast. Here's a map of the route they would have taken. The grave is closer to the shore that many of the other graves in Kildownet. It's easy to imagine them running the yawl as far up on the ashore as they could, then lifting the stone and carrying it to the gravesite. By the time they planted the stone in the ground and made sure it was secured, the tide most likely would have gone out and they would have had to wait for the evening tide to take them home. They must have had great respect and fondness for their mother to make this hazardous journey to mark her resting place.
At some point during the journey the boat started leaking and the boys had to work fast to bail out the boat so they didn't sink before they arrived back in Saula.
When I first saw the gravestone, I felt bad that my grandmother didn't have a finer stone; after all some of her grandchildren in America became very wealthy and it didn't seem right to me that her grave was so neglected. But after hearing the story of it's voyage I look at the carving and I see love in every crude letter laboriously incised into the stone. Now I wouldn't want to see the stone replaced by some monument created by a stranger.
Thank you Suzanna for relaying this story that John told his kids.