IF it were a movie, people might not believe the synchronicity of it all: how after 40 years a West Cork woman made a connection with a man, who not only knew her brother before his untimely death by drowning, but helped her to reconnect with the healing power of the sea.

Mary Deasy grew up by the sea in Myross in Union Hall with three brothers: John, Paul and Paddy Joe, as he was known to everyone else.

To her, he was simply Joe.

Mary, who has a hair salon in Skibbereen, and is also a life coach, remembers her early childhood being steeped in the sea.

Her father Michael was a fisherman and the skipper of a boat out of Union Hall, while her mother Kitty used to sell the fish.

She did that with a fish box attached to the back of her bicycle and two bags balancing the handlebars.

Mary said: 'She went out in the frost and snow and people would have her in for dinner as she made her rounds. And she would tell us that these were the happiest days of her life.'

Mary Deasy has the same kind of resilience. She described how her father passed away while she was still in secondary school and how she and Joe, with just a year between them, were Irish twins.

'Joe was my whole world. We were very close. In one way, we were too close because with my parents being so busy you could say we reared each other.

'Joe was my other half so when I heard the 5pm news on December 21st 1983, the shortest day of the year, that a fishing boat heading for Union Hall had gone down and that a crew member had gone missing, I knew it was the boys.

'I prayed and prayed and prayed that it wasn't them,' said Mary before describing how an aunt-in-law tried to gently break the news to her but she wouldn't hear it.

When the realisation came, Mary said: 'My whole world fell apart. I was just broken-hearted. The loss, the pain, was unbearable.'

What compounded the trauma was the circumstances of Joe's drowning. On a flat calm day, in waters they knew like the back of their hand, brothers Paddy Joe and Paul, and a friend from Bantry, saw the balance of the boat inexplicably shift, and it being pulled down, resulting in all three men being cast into the sea.

A knife that Paddy Joe had gifted to his brother allowed Paul to free a life raft and two of them were able to clamber aboard, but Joe didn't make it.

A newspaper clipping at the time referenced a submarine operating in the area and given what is known of submarine activity today it no longer seems far-fetched.

'His death was so sudden,' said Mary. 'He was just 31. And for a time, people went out trying to find his body, but it was never recovered.'

That was 43 years ago, but Mary remembers how, as youngsters, they would all pile into a boat and head out, without lifejackets, despite the fact that Mary never learned to swim.

'I can't say what my block with swimming was because I grew up beside the sea and all we did was boating and rowing for fun. And sunbathing: it seemed as if that's all I and my friends ever did. We had no interest in anything other than getting a tan.'

Mary describes the location of the family home in which she now lives as 'paradise' claiming: 'It is the most beautiful place on earth because it is so unspoilt.'

Mary can be in the water within two minutes of leaving her front door. It's that close. But it was only when she saw a local group of wild swimmers, women calling themselves The Plucky Paddlers that Mary had a word with herself and resolved to learn how to swim.

That was about three years ago and it began with her immersing herself slowly, inch by inch.

Today, there are about 40 Plucky Paddlers who meet in varying numbers to swim, or simply stand, in the bracing but restorative power of the sea.

Knowing that everyone has their own private sorrows, Mary decided to mark every December 21st with a Swim to Survive gathering.

'Everyone is surviving something,' said Mary. 'No one goes through life without challenging times. Being part of a group helps immensely. Being part of a community is so important for your mental health. And Swim to Survive is about remembrance, survival, and renewal.' 

One day, in conversation​, her neighbour Kathleen mentioned the name, ​Clive Seawright, and it struck a chord with Mary. She asked her neighbour to find out if he had ever fished out of Union Hall.

Word came back almost immediately: 'He wants to see you.' It turned out that Clive, the founder of The Water School in Kealkil, knew Paddy Joe not just as his skipper, but as a friend.

Their meeting took place just one month before Clive's death​, and although he personally couldn't teach Mary to swim​, he promised her that his son Ciaran would.

After just a few lessons, Mary said she is no longer splashing around, no longer approaching swimming fitfully, or nervously. She is relaxing in the water and can give herself over to it by calmly floating on its surface.

A brief conversation with Ciaran confirms that the synchronicity of this story brought meaning to all involved. He said he grew up hearing his dad talk about Paddy Joe.

Clive's son Ciaran from The Water School in Kealkill

In following Clive's footsteps, Ciaran lives by the mantra that 'all wounds can be healed by salt, whether it is sweat, tears, or the sea.'