Latest news with #MaryandMe
Irish Examiner
08-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Examiner
Actor Irene Kelleher: 'I felt a really strong presence of my dad before I went on stage'
In February 2016, my dad was told he had oesophageal cancer, terminal – the doctors said six months… He was the most positive person. He didn't let 'terminal' affect how he'd cope with the diagnosis. A favourite book of his was Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, about how he survived Auschwitz – there's a quote my dad kept looking to for inspiration and hope: 'he who has a 'why' to live can bear almost any how'. To Dad, it meant 'I've so many reasons to live – I'm going to find my way through this'. My mum, my brother, sister, me – we took this great positivity that Dad always believed in. My wedding was nine weeks after his diagnosis. He walked me down the aisle, sang 'Beautiful Dreamer' that evening, a moment to cherish. It's not that we forgot, but in summer 2016, he was doing so well that even the specialists thought maybe there was hope. He was good for the first half of 2017. Then he regressed. He had to get a stent so he could swallow and eat. I'd been working as an actor for 10 years, and I'd booked a tour to the Edinburgh Fringe, three-and-a-half weeks in August, with 'Mary and Me', the first play I wrote. It was a dream to bring it to Edinburgh. Dad went into hospital in late June. As time went on and he was still there I got worried – I'd almost decided to pull the tour, but my mum told me: 'If you don't go, you can't come into hospital for three-and-a-half weeks because you'll break your father's heart by not going'…. Dad was always my champion, cheering me. He'd drive me to the train for every audition. The day before leaving for Edinburgh, I asked was there anything he'd like me to buy him there. He mentioned oak bookends – then said no, he'd pick them up when he next went with my mother. That's how positive he was, he was so convincing… Halfway into the first week in Edinburgh, the play started to sell out. It was getting all four- and five-star reviews. That Thursday was the highlight of my career up to then – a four-star review from a leading theatre review journal, an email from a publisher to discuss publication. I was on an absolute high. Around 4pm, I had a video call with Dad, I wanted to share the news with him. He was delighted for me. He'd had his stent operation – he was just after his first bowl of soup. Irene Kelleher performs in two productions at Cork Midsummer Festival 2025, July 13 to 22. Here, she is pictured ahead of Cork City Library Culture Night Promo in 2024. Picture: Marcin Lewandowski. That evening, my brother, Tim, rang: 'You have to come home – Dad has taken a turn'. My first instinct was confusion – I said, 'No, Dad's fine, he's just had a bowl of soup'. I went straight into denial. Tim had to repeatedly say it before it sank in. The quickest flight home was the next morning. That whole night, I felt helpless. I had an hour's sleep, dreamt about Dad. He was asleep in a hospital bed, but in a forest. I walked up to him. He said 'let's go for a walk', and we went for a walk, and he looked healthy and we were really happy – there was no sense of goodbye. I messaged my sister – 'is Dad still here'. Yes, he was. Up to the 7 am flight, we messaged back-and-forth, she reassuring me 'you'll get here'… Outside Cork Airport, I saw her from a distance. We looked at each other. I knew straightaway, I saw it in her eyes: Dad was gone…. What I clung onto was guilt. The guilt of not being there – I was so close to him, I should have been there. I clung onto guilt because grief was too much. The day of the funeral passed. And I was at home. Mum mentioned going back to Edinburgh to finish the run, which I dismissed. But the pain of being home, with Dad not there, the house so quiet…Mum saying finishing it is definitely what Dad would have wanted. So I went back to Edinburgh to do the last week. Backstage, just about to start: 'What am I doing? My dad has just died, and here I am in another country, about to do a play?' I closed my eyes, said, 'Dad, I need you here with me'. I felt a really strong presence of my dad with me, saying the last thing he'd always say driving me to auditions: 'Give 'em holly'. I just felt his presence so close, I felt his strength, and – for the first time since the phone call – I felt his warmth. I felt connected with him again, and I went onstage and I'd say I gave the best performance I ever gave of that play. I wouldn't say I'm particularly spiritual, but it's the closest I've ever come to it. I've kept that. I visit his grave, but I never feel close there like I do side-stage, just about to go on, to perform – that's where I have my chats with my dad. I was 31 that day in August 2017. It's when I feel I have become an adult, able to carry on as an adult, because of feeling I have my dad minding me, so I'm never alone. Irene Kelleher performs in two productions at Cork Midsummer Festival 2025, July 13 to 22. Stitch, described as an Irish Horror Show, will be staged in site-specific venue J Nolan Stationery Shop, Shandon Street; and Footnote in the TCD at Triskel, both Cork City. Booking: Read More RTÉ radio host Joe Duffy retiring after 37 years
Irish Independent
04-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Independent
Irene Kelleher: ‘When I took my one-woman show to the Edinburgh Fringe, I had to live on one pack of Jammie Dodgers'
Today at 21:30 Cork actor and playwright Irene Kelleher has become known for one-woman plays such as Gone Full Havisham and Mary and Me, both of which had successful runs at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. She performed her play A Safe Passage, co-starring Seamus O'Rourke, at the Smock Alley Theatre in Dublin last weekend. Kelleher, whose screen credits include Game of Thrones, will be performing in two productions, 'Stitch' and 'Footnote', at the Cork Midsummer Festival in July. For more information, go to How did your upbringing influence your relationship with money? My upbringing and family money habits aren't an excuse for my own terrible money management. My family didn't have much money. My dad came from a family of eight on Blarney Street, on Cork's northside. His father died young. My dad was only 17 – and as the eldest boy he had to take responsibility. He worked extremely hard and saved so he could put himself through college as a mature student and pay for our college fees. Both my parents were extremely careful with money and taught us the importance of saving. My sister and brother learned from this – but from a young age, anytime I had money I got too excited and couldn't wait to spend it. Have you ever felt broke? More times than I can count. When I was bringing my first show to the Edinburgh Fringe, I'd spent the first week's money sending a big present home to mam because I was missing her birthday. I lived on one packet of Jammie Dodgers over two days – one for breakfast, one for lunch, one before the show. Grim. (But I still eat them.) What has your acting career taught you about money? ADVERTISEMENT Learn more That I should know better. And that I will make it my life's work to encourage my two daughters to become credit controllers. I've gotten a bit better in the past few years: becoming a mother has meant I've no choice but to be more responsible with money. With acting and writing, you could get a great gig that pays well – like a good voiceover, film work or a writing commission, but then you might be months waiting for the next one to come along. What's the most expensive place you've ever been to? Iceland, for our honeymoon. We knew it was going to be expensive – but it was the most special holiday we'd ever go on, so we didn't mind splashing out. What was your biggest ever extravagance? My wedding dress. I got it made by a wonderful designer, Samantha Kennedy. I'm just under five foot so all the dresses I tried on in the shops made me look like I was making my Communion. I promised myself I'd wear it to other events, as it doesn't look like an obvious wedding dress. I haven't worn it since – but every now and then I take it out of its box, stroke it lovingly, and think: 'Ahhh, lovely.' Would you buy Irish property now? We'll have to soon. Ever since having our second daughter, our house has gotten smaller. Sometimes my husband and I feel like Charlie Bucket and his grandparents all in the one bed. What was your worst ever job? A job that was billed to me as a play. It was not a play. It was a 'Halloween experience' in a very fancy hotel. The pay wasn't great but I was told that I could stay on the property and all meals would be provided. It turned out to be the tiniest caravan I'd ever seen (think the holiday episode in Fr Ted) and my 'room' had an infestation of bees. The 'meals' were bread and cheese. They never took my costume measurements so the dress was three sizes too big – I had to be cable-tied into it and cut out of it when I needed the bathroom.
