The Bridge of Sorrows
A Story of Famine, Poverty, and Tears
It is a sad and painful episode of Donegal history that many were forced to leave home, family and friends in the hope of a better life abroad. A little bridge, in a rural setting of West Donegal, still stands today to bear witness to all those who left the land and people they loved for an often unfulfilled dream of a better life abroad.
On the outskirts of the village of Falcarragh stands the small bridge named locally as the ‘The Bridge of Sorrows’. During the 19th and early 20th century, families would walk to the bridge with loved ones who were leaving home to escape famine and poverty; hoping for a better life in America, Canada & Australia.
In those times the chances of parents ever seeing their children again were practically non-existent, as the journey was long, hazardous and expensive. There was also the understanding that many of those who took the trip would never make it; dying of sickness and disease on ships transporting them in appalling conditions.
Thousands of people passed over the bridge on their way to Derry port in search of a better life. Many who bid farewell to their friends and relatives on this bridge would also leave from this same spot a year or two later.
The name, The Bridge of Sorrows, comes from local oral tradition. In the Falcarragh area, it is also known as ‘The Crying Bridge’ or ‘Bridge of Tears.’ The Bridge of Sorrows is a more modern translation for this bridge which lies on the road from Falcarragh to Kilmacrenan.
A memorial stone near the bridge reads (English translation): “Friends and relations of the person emigrating would come this far. Here they parted. This spot is the Bridge of Tears”.
Very sad. Decades ago, I remember copying a letter (now sadly lost) written by a homesick Irish convict in the 1850s to the Governor of Van Diemen’s Land pleading for assistance to go back “home”. She was unsuccessful. The sadness of the exile. Not everyone made it in the New World and some remained heartsick all their lives. A bridge too far to cross back again. I wonder how many did get back?
Last year I had the pleasure of visiting the bridge as an emigrant in 1956 first Canada and in November USA the scene and familialr with the history there my life hit me with a depth that flowed tears from me I am 85 and that visit lives with me daily in the twilight of my life Why Donegal ? asked me to write a story and they published it.
Yes a lovely spot and so meaningful I realised how fortunate I have been. Emigration I did not walk nor hungry due to the wicked famine nor bare feet Please visit it too.
I visited this spot last year I was an emigrant in 1956 twice in one year Canada and USA I am 85 and said goodbyes My whole life hit me and tears rolled down my cheeks, I was fortunate I did not walk I was not hungry from the wicked famine, I wore decent shoes
Why Donegal ? asked me to write a story and they published it on Facebook My memories of that visit stays with me every day in the twilight of my life .
We stoped at this wee bridge a few years back whilst we were out on our sunday run,
My grandmother was still living at the time, I got a lonely sort of feeling at that location, quiet and nice spot but lonely.