Time

Bridie is gone
and Charlie is gone.

Bridget is gone
and Kay is gone.

Bernard is gone
and Bill is gone.

Kathleen is gone
and Chrissie is gone.

Michael is gone
and Mac is gone.

Nan is gone
and so is Maura.

Bridie, quiet, dutiful dependent and young
stricken with cancer, went peacefully
supported by family intersession and extreme unction.

Charlie: for a long time a bulwark against the laws of nature
succumbed, jaundiced to the rigours of tobacco and alcohol.
His widow penniless, but with eleven children,
helped him to go peacefully
supported by family intersession and extreme unction.

Bridget, strong willed in her youth, and
frail in extreme old age, died blind and senile.
Long dead was her industry and thrift.
Long dead was her warmth and curiosity.
Long dead was her religious devotion.
But, living still is "Grandma", who didn't need extreme unction.

Kay, a recluse, went at the right time for Kay.
Having given as much as she could, she went peacefully,
supported by family intersession and extreme unction.
She knew both the joys and sorrows of love,
and the joys and sorrows of childbirth;
and familiar with the rigour of work,
she walked the streets at night - in despair,
when the Blue Pool, was synonymous with thoughts of suicide.

Bernard, "full of fun in his youth" and a scholar,
went after a tantrum with his doctor, who,
was at least as strong willed.
"No more driving Bernard," was the edict.
Bernard spoke fondly of "The Almighty"
and was prone to giving advice.

Bill: and old IRA man, philosopher and saint, died,
but not before raising himself up and saluting his God.
Quiet, and a provider of daughters,
he prayed unceasing for his comrades,
for those they fought against, and especially,
those who died.

Kathleen died where many paupers had lived,
in Nazareth House;
and mercifully before her legs were amputated.
"A sight", with her grey wizened head and disheveled garb,
her ambition was to be off - somewhere! anywhere!
No apple tart could equal her apple tart,
nor seasoned keg rival her frying-pan for flavour.
Her laugh was uproarious and her piety plain.
And her weakness, was to be in awe of others.

"Chrissie" with her infectious laugh and soft charm, is gone.
Hospitality was preferably out of doors, in a warm snug;
the gateway to which was a discrete door in off the street.
No farmer could have wished for a better crop of sons:
No housewife was less hurried, more tolerant or forgiving.
And nobody was more surprised than all of us
when she died from a heart attack.

Michael, stout, soft spoken and gentle, knew every face in the town
and townland, for he had been and still was, "The Master".
A wise man, he never let his learning escape, preferring his pipe.
He could talk to his sons as you would talk to a friend,
and everyone liked him.
He died in bed, and sadly, before Cavan could
thrash their opponents at football that afternoon.
In the church - it was standing room only.

A wiry man, Mac is gone, and thankfully, before
in his old age, he had to use his bucket of water and garden fork,
against marauding and murderous Loyalist gangs.
What an indignity and cruel twist of fate that would have been,
for a Squadron Leader, who in his youth, defended the nation.

A devoted mother and welcoming host,
"Nan" with her unnerving worldly wisdom is gone.
A lingering death, she was cared for to the end
And is at peace.

Professional, patriotic, cultured and refined,
Maura, in all her complexity is gone. Her life:
the embodiment of confused piety, thwarted ambition, and pain.
Ar fifty, she learned to drive, and at sixty three left home
for one of her own, paying cash.
Always overweight and a lover of chocolate, she died -
age ninety five. But not before telling them in the operating theatre,
of Derry "in the long-ago". And of what she was most proud of.
A life spent teaching, "the poorest of the poor"
at the Long Tower Girls School.

And I stand - here!
__________

© Cormac McCloskey
Some changes have been made to the phrasing and punctuation, Cormac, 19th February 2011