Gazing into the night sky over the ocean, a shooting star streaks across. I think to myself, Is it her, my angel showing me her presence? I continue to stare, a glimpse of my childhood. A little Catholic Irish boy, already an exception to God's rules with my dark hair, looking nothing like your stereotypical redheaded Irish boy. My father, however, was your stereotypical Irishman, an alcoholic. He worked to provide. But we did not...