He died in our local hospice at 6.37pm yesterday evening. I knew him for thirty three years. Like many Irishmen before him, he came over to England in his late teens to join the building industry. Like me, he met a nurse and married her. They had three children together and were as happy as pigs in muck. We know the family very well.
He was an upbeat kind of guy. He didn't appear to take life too seriously and he loved the ambience of English pubs. He wasn't one of those maudlin Irish immigrants who longed for the old country all the time. He loved Sheffield and Yorkshire as much as he loved his family, including two beautiful grandchildren. However, when it came to sport, especially rugby, he was Ireland's number one fan.
He died too young. He was 64 years and 364 days old. One day short of his 65th birthday. Many will miss him and I am amongst them. I just wrote this poem in honour of him:-
_______________________________________________
The music of life
Sounds of drilling and birds
And children yelling, “It’s not fair!”
And Radio 2 on The Parkway
And getting pints topped up.
The laughter and the remembering
Wage packet on kitchen table
Meat pie in oven
Early morning starts
“Dad’s Army” on the telly
“I love that me”.
Millions of fags
Two false hips
“God bless the NHS!”
Oxygen cylinder by the bed
And you so often said
“Our Jennifer…our James…
Our Declan…”
Watching the rugby
“Come on Ireland!”
Phone calls to siblings
St Luke’s like a boutique hotel
“They’re all really lovely”,
So lovely.
After the coughing
Appears the coffin.
It happens to us all.
At least
You got to say your goodbyes
And you, you were surely one of the best
So may you find eternal rest...
Amen.
A nice tribute poem to your friend. Sorry for your loss. Sounds like you have many happy memories of this fine man to comfort you now. I like the smiles in that photo!
ReplyDeleteGone but not forgotten. Not by a long way.
Deleteslán Pat.
ReplyDeleteLet my name be ever the household word that it always was.
DeleteLet it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Your poem made me cry, so thanks for that. Sixty-five seems too young to die, especially since I turn sixty this year.
ReplyDeleteThose photos of Phoebe, oh my goodness, she's such a cutie. I love the photo of her sleeping on someone's shoulder.
It's her mother's shoulder. I guess that Pat sometimes slept on his mother's shoulder too but there was a lot of competition. He had eleven siblings!
DeletePat sounds an hardworking family man. Your poem is a fitting tribute to your friend.
ReplyDeleteHe was from Waterford and had eleven siblings.
DeleteAre those two boys his sons? They must be brothers with that same identical smile. And the girl- she must be related too. Daughter?
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful tribute, Mr. P. Truly.
There are indeed his sons but next to him, that is his grandson. I can easily see why you made that mistake.
DeleteHe was younger than I am, which is becoming much too frequent these days. What a interesting guy and a lovely poem, full of description and humor!
ReplyDeleteIt just came out of me. I didn't plan to write a poem in his memory.
DeleteAt least he got to say his goodbyes. Something denied to so many either by circumstance or Covid.
ReplyDeleteI hadn't thought about COVID deaths but I am glad Pat didn't depart during those tight COVID restrictions.
DeleteBeautiful tribute to your good friend. I want to be remembered as a good friend even more than sister or wife or …….
ReplyDeleteLover?
DeleteA sad time for you and the poem is a nice tribute.
ReplyDeleteCheers Andrew.
DeleteI'm guessing an industrial disease got him?
ReplyDeleteYour affection shines through
It wasn't the COPD that got him. It was the cancer that silently invaded his body. Probably initiated by cigarette smoking.
DeleteSorry to learn of the loss of your friend. A fine poem to send him on his way.
ReplyDeleteI am wondering whether I should share it with his widow. Maybe I will leave that till the anniversary of his death.
DeleteI'm sorry for your loss. You had some great times nd respected this guy always.
ReplyDeleteHe was as familiar to me in real life as you have become in Blogworld Red.
DeleteA beautiful and very moving tribute to someone who sounds like a good man, son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, and last but not least, friend.
ReplyDeleteTwo weeks ago, one of my pub quiz team mates died very suddenly all alone in his London flat. We are still trying to get our heads round it. I wish I‘d be able to write such a tribute.
How old was he?
DeleteHe was 61.
DeleteThanks. Too young by far.
DeleteThat's a lovely poem you wrote for him.
ReplyDeleteThank you River. It just leaked out. I couldn't help it.
DeleteA very thoughtful poem and tribute to your friend YP.
ReplyDeleteIf he has eleven siblings, and the whole family come to the funeral, what a Wake that's going to be!
Yes it will be though the one who lives in Canada who flew over last Friday may not be able to afford to return. The crematorium will be packed for Pat. I saw his wife, Sue, last night and told her he was a "good man" and that I would always remember him as an upbeat kind of guy. I rubbed her back and kissed her cheek.
DeleteA beautifully penned poem on a sad occasion but Pat had a good life, and what more could you ask for?
ReplyDeleteYou might say he had a beautiful death too. He got to say goodbye to everybody who mattered to him and because of the medication in St Luke's Hospice he was free from pain.
DeleteHe sounds like the best kind of man. Your poem was wonderful. I hope someone writes me a poem that remembers me so fondly after and my death. (Perhaps I should add that to my will.)
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, I cannot think of anything that rhymes with Melinda from Ontario.
DeleteSo sorry for your loss. He sounds like a wonderful fellow.
ReplyDeleteRIP
Salt of The Earth Bob.
DeleteThank you Neil for the honesty of your tribute to Pat and his life well lived. Your poem and the reference to Death Is Nothing At All could not be more timely.
ReplyDeleteIn the same week as we gather to celebrate the first year of Charlotte's life and all the joy she has brought into our lives we will also gather in a hospice to farewell my sister in law as melanoma takes her life. We'll contemplate our own mortality and try again to live in the present, to see each day as the gift it is-full of opportunity to make a difference, to be kind and to share.
Yesterday, on what would have been his 100th birthday, I cleaned my father's gravestone and thought about the way he lived the 56 years he was given ..a son, a brother, a child of the Depression, schoolboy, soldier, carpenter, faithful husband, father of eight, lover of music and dancing, singer, generous parish servant, friend to many, hoarder of things that might and did "come in handy". He had no time for hobbies as he was always building to extend the house but he did have time to watch his children's sports and school events. Never too busy for visitors or a party, he would regularly take the doors off the living room and kitchen to make more space. His sudden death was unbearable, a wound that would not heal for many years.
Cut down in his prime, he met only one of his twelve grandchildren and none of the next generation but he's still present and visible in their genetic inheritance.
Being given a terminal diagnosis is bitter sweet.. the clock is ticking loudly but you do have the chance to say goodbye, to say I love you. It's something I missed with both parents so I said it again yesterday then went to visit Charlotte for some joy.
Sorry I have not been posting ( it's the Grannying ) but I have always been reading and enjoying your travels and the blossoming of beautiful Phoebe.
Cheers from the Deep South, Adele
I'm so sorry to hear of the loss of your friend.
ReplyDeleteThat was a masterful poem. Sorry for the loss of your friend. Such a man and loved by all, he should have lived for decades more.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful ending to life to die with people that will miss you.
ReplyDelete