LITTLE IRISH
A touch of Irish laughter even close to death
A spirit and bright outlook still strong in her last breath
Hard work, close friends and family comprised her
Pot-o’-gold
Exquisitely unselfish with self-sacrifice
Untold
She valued more the rainbow
Than what was at the end
And while we all do mourn her
Sure’n heaven’s gained a friend.
For Mom, who died August 17, 1977 – written a year after her death
As we get closer to St. Patrick’s Day, so many things return to remind me of Mom. She did a little Irish jig and loved a wee bit of whisky on Friday night after a long week’s work in the factory.
Everyone who knew her knew she could keep your secrets and poured their hearts open to her for her kind and loving advice.
She didn’t judge and truly danced to a different drummer. She gave a quarter a week at the Catholic church. And told me one day when I, in tears, shared that I had eaten a hot dog on that Friday – “Oh, darlin’,” she said, “just bless it and make it fish.” She knew I had forgotten that it was Friday and could see I was contrite. Mom was always on your side – if she loved you – not so much if you were against one of her children… Irish temper in residence.
You probably think my memories have canonized Mom, but truly, if you knew her, you’d know she had a heart’-o’-gold and a smile for every occasion.
She always bought the little white box of praties (mashed potatoe candy rolled in cinnamon) and green snakes with red eyes and harps in white and green peppermint soft candy. Everything was an opportunity for a holiday with Mom and I miss her dearly. Do they still make praties??
