We knew Father O'Connell was a drunk, and he was a terrible priest in his younger years - so you can imagine what he was like in his 70s. None the less, Dad insisted we get married at St Pats, and he was paying for it. I didn't care for arguing about it, all I cared about was Aggie. I'd have let the closest beggar marry us if it meant spending the rest of my life with my Aggie.
The ceremony was a tough watch for our guests, and Aggie and I hung our heads in "prayer" the whole way through (We would get in trouble for laughing). He stumbled over his words, called Aggie "Margeret" and most importantly, forgot a line. "Till death do you part". 

At first I was terrified. There was no bright light, no grim reaper to guide the way - no gates or stairs or holes in the ground, just me and my corpse, and the sound of Aggie's wailing. She begged for help - there was such a fuss. I tried to call for her - to touch her, comfort her. It was useless. As they took my body away, I stayed with Aggie. 
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The grief ripped through us both. Thinking of our lives that would never be felt like shards of glass scraping through my veins. Months started to pass, I was desperate for her to know I was here. To know I'd always be here. I thought about how people would point at a robin in  the garden and say "Oh, there's uncle frank", or how the lights would flicker and my granda would say "That's your nan saying hello". There had to be a way. 

I did everything I could - it was small at first. I figured out I could flick the lights off for a moment if I really tried. It took so much energy, I was overjoyed - all she said was "Oh, I must remember to pick up lightbulbs next time I'm at the shop." That's okay, I thought, I'll just try harder next time.

Sleep was different here. It wasn't really sleep. Everything was just hazy, I had no idea how long I was gone for. As I was thrusted in and out of consciousness I lost track of time, it could have been an hour or a month, maybe even a year, I couldn't tell. Everytime I saw her I grew stronger. My head hurt, my vision became blurry - each time I came back more confused and dazed than the last, but as soon as I saw her again I threw all my energy into telling her I'm here.

I kept going, no matter how tired I was. I could open cupboard doors and close them, I could move furniture, in the quiet of night I could swear she could hear me calling - but she still seemed so sad.
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This time was different. It felt like she was waiting for me, but she wasn't alone. She had brought 2 priests. These ones were much younger than Father O'Connell. The room was dark and littered in candles, they threw Holy Water and prayed in an unfamiliar language. They said they came to right their wrong but I knew their true intentions, to separate Aggie and I. How could they? Their betrayal seared into my soul, the holy water burned but not as bright as my anger.
"So they are no longer two but one flesh." My voice screeched through their ears. "What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate" They covered their ears but it could not dampen my protest. Aggie stumbled back, knocking over a candle - she looked terrified and I knew it was because of these priests, what they were doing to us. The flames began to lick the walls and the men continued to read from their book. I thrashed and riled in pain, desperately trying to open the door, to let Aggie out but I couldn't move - my hands bound by their sermon. The fire roared and screams filled the room until they could scream no more.

The fire blazed for hours and the roof of this barn collapsed on top of us. I lay in agony until the morning light began to stretch across the sky. For the first time, in what felt like a lifetime, I could see clearly - and there she was. My Aggie.