The moon light shone
around the stone
and all at once
I was not alone.

A crowd came 'round
without a sound
I only heard 
my own heart pound.

Yet they spoke in tones so deep and clear
filled with a vision and hope so dear.
Time is all that comes between 
history and the fulfilled dream.

Druid and bard, chieftain and king
each with a message for me to sing!
Wise and gifted,  steady and bold
each with a passion that warmed the cold.

CuChulainn stood, placing his hand
on Pierce, as they gazed upon the land.
Druid and priest, ancient and new
uniting for us both Christ and Lugh

And each of the women who came to me
some over land and some over sea,
Boudicca, Brid,  Rhiannon and Mebd,
From Tir na nOg, on her white steed, Niamh.

Each of them bringing a message this night
sharing their spirit, shedding some light.
"Do not forget us, we're always with you
guiding our people in all that you do.

Our time has past
old ways don't last
It is our spirit 
that holds on fast.

To look to the past is no great wrong
If you do not  linger there too long,
for the gods and heroes paved the way
for you to welcome a brand new day.

We are one heart, old and new,
so we pass on our vision of life to you.
You are the Celts of this new day
It is your turn to pave the way."

My mind knew what my spirit could see
I was honored to have these guests with me
And as their words echoed in my ear
I knew that I'd always feel them near.

The moon light shone
around the stone
and once again
I was all alone.



RETURN TO: ANCESTOR FAMILY DIRECTORY
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DA

In the most loving memory of Ellen "Nellie Farrell" Daly known to her grandchildren as 
"Nin"

As with so many thousands of others, Nin had to emigrate to the United States
 because of poverty in Ireland.  In 1897, at the age of 13 she left her home 
in Edgeworthstown, County Longford, Ireland with her 15 year old sister Bridget 
on an ocean liner for for New York City to begin life in a new world. 

These are the feelings of grief...


"Da"

Da! Da!  We'll say good bye to Ireland
and we'll say goodbye to you.

The years have passed so quickly, Da,
since our Mamai died.
we never thought we'd lose her, Da,
nor the baby by her side.

Oh Father, must we say goodbye?
our young hearts burn with pain.
and will we ever see you, Da?
will we come home again?

What poverty afflicts our lives
what evil in our land
that we two girls must leave you, Da?
our parting is at hand.

Refrain

We'll miss our brothers and our home
this farm is all we know.
Oh Father, hold us close once more
for now we both must go.

We were but children yesterday
playing on this farm.
and you would work here by our side
keeping us from harm.

Bridget is but fifteen years 
and I three years behind.
Oh Father, kiss away our tears
for life now proves unkind.

Refrain

We won't forget your loving ways
nor how hard you tried
raising seven of us here
since our sweet mother died.

America is far away
(three thousand miiles, we hear)
and Father, we have only felt
safe when you were near.

But we'll be brave as we depart
from Ireland and from you.
and Bridget will return one day
and your dear Nellie too.

Refrain


RETURN TO: ANCESTOR FAMILY DIRECTORY
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PADDY DALY


Once in the United States, Nellie Farrell worked and saved money 
to send home to her family and to return to Ireland to visit 
a few times.  On one of those trips she met a young man,
Paddy Daly of Dungarvin, County Waterford, Ireland
who was also returning to visit his parents.
This story is dedicated to the loving memory of 
Patrick Eugene Daly, 
known to his friends and family as 
Paddy Daly of Dungarvin
and to his grandchildren 
as
"MOREDADDY"

"PADDY DALY OF DUNGARVIN"

by
Cáit Finnegan



Paddy Daly of Dungarvin left his home in Waterford
He kissed his Da and Mother 'tho the keening tears were poured.
Paddy Daly of Dungarvin sailed off to America
to work upon the railroad trains of Pennsylvania.

Dungarvin to Altoona an entire world away
He left midst tears and keening saying he'd return one day.
He'd work the rail road trains, he said, and earn his daily pay,
then back to Ireland he would come on one fine happy day!

Dungarvin to Altoona three thousand miles apart
Paddy Daly left his family but he brought them in his heart
Well, he worked upon the railroad trains with many another man, 
then sailed back home to Waterford; to visit was his plan.

Now on the ship young Paddy set his eyes on a colleen.
He knew young Nellie Farrell was the finest he had seen!
They visited their families,  spending time in Ireland,
in Waterford and Longford, returning, as they'd planned.

But Paddy kept his Nellie in his mind and in his heart.
In Ireland and America they lived so far apart.
She in New York City while Paddy worked the rail,
they visited and wrote, each one, so their love would not fail.

Then Nellie Farrell took his name becoming Paddy's wife
and moved to Pennsylvania to begin their married life.
But Paddy never lost his dream of going home one day
to Waterford, to Ireland.  Oh, every night he'd pray!

So when they lost their first born child he mourned so deep and long
that he and Nellie packed their bags to go where they'd belong.
They lived a year in Waterford beginning life anew
and stayed 'til Nellie was with child.  She knew what they must do.

She didn't want to raise a child in Ireland in their day.
Poverty and England ruled and she refused to stay.
She knew that Paddy loved his home, so was it really fair?
The year was 1913 and war was in the air.

Paddy love to read and write and speak his Gaelic tongue
and men like Paddy knew too well that England's day was done.
So, Pat and Nellie said goodbye to family once again
and returned to America across the wide ocean.

Paddy Daly and his Nellie and the children that she bore
(two pretty girls, two handsome boys).  Oh, how they loved all four!
On the streets of New York City as he worked the trolly cars,
providing for his family,  he dreamed of "plough and stars."

He kept in touch with Ireland through his sister and his brother.
Then a letter came that broke his heart, the death of his dear mother.
The years flew by so quickly;  Pat and Nellie both grew old.
Their sons - a cop and fireman, in New York Irish mold!

Their children all were married, with grandchildren they were blest
 and when God called Paddy home again they laid him down to rest.
His body in America, his heart stayed with his clan
but those who loved him all knew that  -  his soul went to Ireland!



Copyright 1995 Cáit Finnegan


RETURN TO: ANCESTOR FAMILY DIRECTORY
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MOREDADDY


It is said that a child's first memory creates her understanding of God.  
If the memory is frightening, she will be afraid of God.
If the memory is loving, her God will be loving.
This is the first memory I have as a little girl. 
It is easy to see how I can put Faith in a God Who promises 
RESURRECTION FROM THE DEAD!


"My Moredaddy"

The little girl sat rocking
as her tears  of grief she cried.
She sobbed:  "Please help, Moredaddy,
cause my little Dolly died!

I squeezed her neck so tightly
that her head fell on the floor
I think I killed my Dolly
'cause I can't fix her no more.

I hugged her and I kissed her
everday we spend at play.
Oh please help her, Moredaddy!
Don't let Dolly die this way."

The old man gently took her doll
and wiped away her tears.
The little girl's grandfather smiled
and hope replaced her fears.

He opened up his tool draw
and pulled out coarse green thread,
and the little girl sat next to him, 
on that big old lumpy bed.

Moredaddy started sewing.
He made a smokey ring
And as pipe smoke hovered over them
the girl began to sing.

"Oh I love you my Moredaddy
for making Dolly live!
As little girls know everywhere
That's the best gift you coud give."

Then he handed her the Dolly
and a smile spread o'er her face
"Now," says he, "your Dolly has
an Irish green necklace!"

Then he hugged them both and helped them
get down to the floor to play.
And the mem'ry he created
lasted years beyond that day.

The years go by so quickly
and the changes that they bring...
Her Moredaddy's gone to heaven
but he still can hear her sing:

"Oh I love you my Moredaddy
for making Dolly live,
and the love you gave to me that day
I promise I will give.

My little girl is growing up.
One day I hope to be
the kind of loving grandparent
my Moredaddy was to me!"

Copyright 1998, Cait Finnegan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





BoogieMan

Moredaddy spent several year with his grandchildren, 
mending toys, telling stories and singing songs.  
He spoke Irish, but sadly none of us learned it until long after he was dead. 
 Many warm nights he turned the streets of New York City into the Irish countryside 
bringing history and legend alive with his songs and stories 
for his eager "little people" sitting before him.  
 His wistful imagination changed our world as
 our fireescape became a large front porch 
and the lights below us  became...


"The Immigrant Boogie Man"


Oh at 342, on East 53rd,
Those nights on the fire 'scape; what stories we heard!
As our grandfather sat with us, pipe in his hand,
Telling us tales of his own native land.

His eyes they would twinkle, or fill with a tear,
Depending upon the stories we'd hear
Of how he left Ireland, a very young man,
How he left all his friends and left all his clan.

He spoke of the colleen he met on the ship
Returning to Ireland on that mem'rable trip,
How her beautiful eyes looked into his soul
How he knew then and there that she'd make his life whole.

The evening would always include a lament
For some Irish hero the English had sent
Home to God, in His glory, before he was due.
And he'd have us all crying before he was through.

He spoke of the hero, the tinker, the rogue
and told us the stories about Tir na n'Og
And he spoke of the Boogie Man over the sea
who lived in the Bog, with his spirit so free.

Then he'd glance at the city lights twinkling below
at the RCA Building, with it's top all aglow
and he'd say: "That's the Boogie Man's house that you see!
Sure, he's an immigrant like grandmother and me."

For sure he would rather be dancing at home,
not here in this city, dancing alone.
But somehow he's come with us over the sea
to remind us of Ireland, how it use to be.

When the men of the bog would twinkle at night
casting their shadows 'twas a spookie old sight.
Yet the lore of our people for many a year
was full of such stories that we've all held dear.

And 'though we are migrating Westward once more,
we carry our spirits and carry our lore
and 'though children may tremble at the Boogie Man's sight,
somehow he brings peace to the immigrant's night.


		Copyright 1998 Cáit Finnegan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~







 

THE MEMORY OF YOU

My grandmother, Nellie Farrell, died in 1976 at the age of 92.
My grieving heart song...


"The Memory of You"

My heart warms within me when I think of the days
that we had together; how I loved all your ways
Your faith and your love of God each day you shared
and with tender affection you showed me you cared.
You taught me to sing and to laugh and to cry
and to always be happy and to reach for the sky.
Your songs and your stories we knew were all true
and they'll live forever in the memory of you.

But your death, though expected, broke promises made:
that we'd go together and stand in the shade
of the Blood Red Rose Tree and O'Donnell Aboo.
Now these heroes of old are all standing with you.
And I envy those who are close by your side
but your presence is dear to me though you have died.
For our dreams, joys and plans for the things that we'd do
continue forever in the memory of you.

There were days in my childhood when I cried bitter tears
as I learned Ireland's history and her scars through the years.
Then we'd bind up those wounds with a song and a smile;
you nourished me with love - but just for a while.
As the years flew and we knew - closer we became -
for Jesus was coming to call you by name.
And our hearts weaved together as you time was due
and I'll live forever with the memory of you.

Now I stand by your grave and I fall to my knees
and I pray to our God and I beg Him: "Lord please
keep my mind on the thought of her being with You, 
and not here below me but living anew.
O Lord strengthen the joy that she gave to me, 
keep Irish eyes, smiling as she'd have it be."
I give thanks for those happy years, many - yet few,
and I live, Grandmother, with the memory of you.
My heart filled forever with the memory of you.




~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 



I'VE NOT FORGOTTEN YOU


and years later, I remember and pray...

"I've Not Forgotten You"

It's not that I've forgotten you 
or put you from my mind.
It's not that I neglect to pray 
or think from time to time.
Remembering the times we shared
and all the love we knew,
I sit at times alone in tears,
I've not forgotten you.

But life goes on (as you well know).
I strive for what you've gained.
I live each day in deepening faith;
I seek what you;ve attained.
And though my time is filled each day
with love and work an dprayer,
Don't ever think that I'd forget 
for you are always there.

You're there each time I cry or smile,
you're there with each good deed;
for it was you who planted love -
you, the farmer - love, the seed -
a seed which grew from childhood love
to live eternally.
You're there as it is shared with all;
you're still there tenderly.

For lessons learned don't end with death
you taught them well, you see.
Your guidance comes through memories
of things you've said to me.
And as I love those God has given
you touch them too - through me
and thus we know love has no end;
our love will always be.

So please, don't think that I'd forget
though routine seems to reign,
for in the quiet of my day
I whisper low your name.
And yes, I miss you as I pray
with tears (my foggy dew);
be reassured then, of my love.
I've not forgotten you.


copyright 1995 Cáit Finnegan


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MY MOTHER MY FRIEND



Nellie Farrell and Paddy Daly did something very wonderful for me
in addition to the love they lavished on me...
they gave me my beautiful mother
Catherine Mary Daly Finnegan
known to her friends as
Kathleen
and to me as 
MOM

On June 26, 1987 Kathleen Daly Finnegan turned 80 years of age.

How does one repay a mother for the gift of love that she is?

This was my attempt...


"My Mother, My Friend"


It's taken so long to write this song
Because there are so few words can tell 
Of four score years of joys and tears
And the love you live so well.

Da's faithful wife, through peace and strife
Fifty years and more of love,
And two sons bore--that you nearly adore
In that quiet heart full of love.

And I, the one so late to come,
The third child of that faithful love,
Have sight to see what you've given me--
My life to pass on that love.

So I sing of thee, mo mhathair mo chroi
There's no one so gentle as you
In your quiet way, you give life each day,
And I thank God I'm born of you.

Now you've silver hair--that I curl with care
On your head both wise and old
Now I bathe your feet that once walked the street
While my little hand you'd hold.

Not a day goes by, but I wonder why
I've been blessed with a mom like you!
And the slower we walk, the more time to talk
Giving me precious time with you.

So I rejoice and I raise my voice
And give thanks for this life that you share,
For here now today, and in every way,
I know Mom, that your love is there.

My mother, my friend, my prayer ascend
That God will bless you on this day,
And give you His peace that will never cease.
In my love for you, this I pray.

Copyright 1997 Cait Finnegan


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



PARENTS LIKE YOU


Mom and Dad, you gave a great deal to my brothers and me.
The world needs more...

"Parents Like You"

In this world filled with sorrow, with pain and with fear
I give thanks for the presence of two who are dear,
For their life-giving love has always supplied
The strength upon which I've so often relied.

So little is said of the father and mother
Who sacrifice all for the love of each other.
The example of unselfish love that they live
Is the basis of all I've been taught to believe.

For the growth of a person depends upon more
Than the food that he eats, and a roof, and a floor.
The love that is given to young ones in need
Nourishes true life in the children we breed.

For the words of the Lord reach the ears of the mind
And the vision of meaning gives sight to the blind
And the voices He uses in life at its start
Are those of our parents when He lives in their hearts.

The love of a father and mother can glow
In the heart of a child who is blessed to know
The glory of God made known on this earth
Through the Christ in the people who gave him birth.

So with words that come easy with paper and song
I verbalize feelings and pray I'm not wrong
For my feeble attempts at heartfelt expressions
Speak volumes of gratitude, love and affection.

They say words are cheap, yet those left unsaid
Are the ones we regret when our loved ones are dead.
So while life here is shared let us speak to each other
And give our love freely to father and mother.

For the life you have given, I can only say thanks
For it's parents like you who fall in the ranks
Of the holy, the good, the pure and the true, 
And I'm sure our God blesses parents like you.

copyright 1995 Cáit Finnegan 


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OUR OWN


Every five years we all came together to celebrate my parents' wedding anniversary.  
We began at their 25th and the last one we celebrated was their 50th.
We sang this each time...

I last sang it for my father as he was dying.



"Our Own"

Lord Jesus, bless our family 
As we gather here today.
We have come to Your house together
For to celebrate and pray.

You've blessed us through these years, Lord,
As we've lived with our joys and our pains.
We give thanks for the love of each other
And we pass it on again.

We thank you for our Faith, Lord,
and the heritage we bear.
Let us pass to our sons and our daughters
this richness that we share.

For though we are first generation,
or second or third or more,
we carry the pride and tradition
of those who first came to this shore.

So today, as we honour love, Lord,
we ask blessings on our own.
Let us learn from their many years, Lord,
to hold sacred our family and home.

For their marriage pays homage to You, Lord,
as does Love for their family and friends.
Bless our joy as we share in this day, Lord,
let this love we share never end.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 



KNOTWORK

Families, like knotwork, weave and form links, 
bringing beauty and change into old blood...

My marriage in 1980 to Rev. Joseph Grenier 
was a gift of love that relfects God's Own...


"THIS KNOTWORK WE WEAVE"


Some said that you were too old for me
While others said I was too young,
But marrying you, as I look back today, 
Is the best thing that I've ever done.

We've suffered our sorrows and danced in our joys
You live out your priesthood this way
Our marriage and family give glory to God
As our love grows deeper each day.

But some said...

Two houses are one, our blood lines have crossed
The child we bore reflects this love
So on this special day, we remember our vows
And renew them before God above.

Though some said...

For our love is timeless and ageless you see
It is both ancient and new
And our life together, this knotwork we weave,
By God's grace, is eternal too.

But some said...

October 11, 1995
Our 15th Wedding Anniversary

Copyright 1995 Cáit Finnegan


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 



THE LONG ROAD HOME



The companionship of a loving spouse on the journey of life
is one of the greatest gifts one can have in life.
I am honoured to have that in my husband.


"THE LONG ROAD HOME"


When I came into this world naked and alone
I came to live with loving hearts and to a loving home.
Yet always deep inside myself I feel so all alone
Though I am loved and cared about while on this long road home.

I'm so very lonely and so very much alone
And so very frightened of the long road home.
For I've been hurt by travellers and then left alone
Calling out for God to guide me on this long road home.

In God's mercy I have found that I am not alone
And as my scars heal I continue on this long road home
Our loving God has crossed our paths when I felt most alone,
And you, my good Samaritan, make safe this long road home.

So touch me gently, let me know that I am not alone
And that you'll walk with me a while on this long road home
For I would wither up and die if I walked alone,
But with you walking by my side I know I'll make it home.

And if you rush along the way and I am left alone
I'll hold dearly to these days as I continue home
And I will follow after you and know I'm not alone
For you'll be always by my side on this long road home.

And when we both reach this road's end we'll never be alone
though we'll remember every step we took on this road home,
the rocky way, the crooked path and feeling so alone.
It will have been your love, I know, that eased this long road home.


Copyright 1996,  Cáit Finnegan



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 



ROISIN


There are no words to express 
the love of a parent for a child...
yet I try...

"Róisín A Stor"

Róisín, Róisín, a stor
gráim thú
Rosie, my treasure
I love you
Róisín,  Róisín, mÕinion,
Róisín, my daughter,
graim thu,
I love you.

Thug Dé dom thu blian ó shin
thug Dé dom thu, ó á chroí

God gave you to me years ago
from His heart, God gave you to me

Thainig tu isteach san bith
le gra go-halainn istigh do chroí

You came into this world
with a beautiful love in your heart

And though some day I must leave you
We never will be far apart

Ta tu go-halainn, m'innion!
Ta tu go-halainn, mo Rhóisín!

You are beautiful my daughter
Oh my beautiful Rose!
The more I love you my daughter, 
The more my heart overflows.

Róisín!  Róisín a stor!
Graim thu!
Róisín, my treasure,
I love you!

Copyright 1996, Cáit Finnegan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~






 
"Team-mates" was written for my brother Frank's adopted son, Jack, who, at 8 years of 
age, was having a hard time going to Church when what he really wanted was to play ball.  
It was my hope that Jack would find God on the ballfield and that they'd be...





"Team-mates"


If only God were on the field
and playing ball today,
We could have talked and shared some fun
and not wait 'til Sunday.

If He were a boy like me
I know He'd understand
if after giving it my best
the ball slipped through my hand.

See, boys like me have many things
that keep us occupied.
It isn't easy sitting still;
I'd rather be outside.

Now, people say that God loves me
and that He's everywhere.
So, that must mean not just in Church, 
but playing ball out there!

So, if You're really in the field
and mighty as can be,
I hope You'll hear my boyhood prayer
and give Your strength to me.

It takes a strong arm to play ball
and strong legs to run fast.
It takes a lot of guts to smile
if I should come in last.

And if I win the games I play,
it's hard not to ignore
the team who lost, who's feeling bad
because they didn't score.

But if I let God play with me
out there in the ballgame,
that secret Team-mate they can't see
might hear me call His Name.

"Hey God!  It's Jack here, playing hard.
This field's our secret church.
Be a Pal, God, give me strength.
Don't leave me in a lurch.

Jesus once was young like me, 
a boy Who loved to play.
I'll bet He understands how I
could run and play all day.

It's easier to pray, You see
when boys are having fun.
I'm sure You understand how glad
I am, when Church is done.

I just don't really see, quite yet,
how people pray inside
when there's a ballpark right near by
where You are at my side.

Someday I'll be a man like Dad
and pray in many ways.
For now, my church is in the field
I pray in other ways."

"Hey Jack!  It's Me, God, right out here,
watching you grow strong,
and seeing you have fun at play.
Can I tag along?

It's My strength, Jack, that helps you grow.
I'm glad to help you run.
And I'll be here right by your side
when the game is done." 

Copyright 1997, Cait Finnegan

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~








FRANK




Soon after, my brother Frank died suddenly.  
Sean nos is the old way of singing, and well suited for the keening.  
However, no words can fully express the grief and shock of:

"Two Weeks Ago Today"


Two weeks ago today
my brother made his way
to Heaven's gate,
he was not late.
Why did he not delay?

But, if  I only knew 
that God was calling you
I would have prayed 
you could have stayed.
Why were your years so few?

My tears so freely flow
so filled with grief and woe!
My brother he
was friend to me;
such friendship so few know.

Our childhood days long gone,
but mem'ries tarry on...
With wounds well healed,
our love we sealed,
and love, I know, lives on.

"My brother Frank is dead"
a hundred times I've said
that it sink in,
and I begin
to get it through my head.

The heaviness that lays
upon my chest these days
as grief explodes 
and overloads
my heart, as my soul prays.

I know it will take time,
and I use verse and rhymn
to feel the pain,
and to stay sane,
while from this pit I climb.

So Frank, my brother dear,
I hope that you are near,
for low I speak
with voice so weak,
and hope that you can hear.

I really want to say
those words we said each day:
"I love you too,"
although we knew,
for wasn't that our way?

And know that as I heal
my love will still be real.
Until we meet, 
in Heaven greet, 
this bond of love we seal.


February 14, 1998 Cait Finnegan
	
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MOM'S VALENTINE	

Soon after my brother died we celebrated Valentine's Day, a day of love.  
It was both a sorrow and a hope as we tried to express love through such sorrow.

		

Mom's Valentine

Dear Mom, these days of deep sorrow 
bring tears our hearts to break.
The loss we feel is keen these days
and how we long to wake
from awful dreams that seems so real,
where death is free to take
the son, the brother that we love.
Yet, we live--for love's sake.

Today as love is shared with all
we celebrate, each one,
the life that God gives to us here
to daughter, and to son,
to brothers, sisters, spouses too,
and I have just begun, 
For as we know, God's love begins
With that special one.

Dear Mom, I celebrate the love 
that you give to us here, 
you gave us life and nurtured us,
and do so year by year.
And Dad, still watching over all,
our prayers and love can hear.
I love you Mom, and you should know
I want it to be clear.

Your life with us completes our home
And I too seldom say
how much your love does mean to me
as we live day to day.
But here and now I tell you Mom
in this my bardic way
I love you more than words can tell.
And love still more each day.


RETURN TO: ANCESTOR FAMILY DIRECTORY

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Eileen Daly 

Eileen Daly is my cousin.  
Her parents died very young and when she married, 
I prayed that I'd know their feelings for her on that special day...  
I believe they were telling her "we are:



"With You Today"

Alainn a rún, on this your day,
Eileen, ár storín, let us say
how proud we are of you today,
how proud we are in every way.

The love that fills your life Eileen,
your gracious heart, and wit so keen,
speak well of you, of what you've done
with God's Own gifts, what you've become.

You deeply touch all those around,
And though we're far from sight and sound,
we're close with you, Eileen, each day,
and join with you each time you pray.

The bond that you and Betsy share
has made us proud and so aware
that you've each grown in Love and Grace,
- the goal of those who run this race.

Keep hold of life, and celebrate
with vibrant joy, with John, your mate!
Remember only Love endures,
and Hope that God will live in yours.

Hold fast to Faith in God above
and pass it on to those you love.
And treasure friends, those far and near
And always know we love you, Dear.

For those of us who've passed beyond
do not forget our loving bond,
and we rejoice and love you so
and we just wanted you to know.

So let us join with you today
and know that in our quiet way
our spirits soar with joy for you
and now our hearts embrace John too.

Copyright 1996 Cáit Finnegan

RETURN TO: ANCESTOR FAMILY DIRECTORY  

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My brother Larry, my childhood hero...  
He suffered a stroke in his early 50's.  


"My Brother"

Have I ever told you my brother
the love that I carry inside?
Where did I learn that these feelings
and love and emotions should hide?
Have I ever told you my brother
that nothing could keep us apart
and 'tho times and seasons may change us,
you'll  always live in my heart?

I promised our father I'd never
let anything come in between
and that I would love you forever
regardless of how it seems.

When I saw  you broken in body
I think something died in my soul
for you were the one that I looked to
for strength when I was not whole.

And so things have broken around me
that normally I would repair
hurt and confusion surround me;
you  may even think I don't care.

'tho words are not spoken between us
(for words could never describe
the bond that we have between us)
I find now, I wish I had tried.

Chorus

I promise you now, my dear brother,
that nothing will keep me away,
no illness, no sadness, no other
will I again let in my way

I only wish I could be stronger
to be what you've been for me,
for now we are children no longer,
yet, still there's a future to see.

'tho life is now harder for you dear,
(your strength is curtailed by this cross)
there's  something I think that you should hear,
for our silence can be our loss.

I want to grow closer my brother,
there's so much to build on,  you see.
We both have a strength deep inside us:
for as I love you -  you love me!

Chorus


COPYRIGHT 1995 Cáit Finnegan 

RETURN TO: ANCESTOR FAMILY DIRECTORY

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My Aunt Ruth is my Da's youngest sister.  
She is mentally retarded and suffers from Cretanism.
When Da died I took her out of the mental institution 
to come live with our family.  
Yet, often she is not here with us...



"My Aunt's Not Home"

My aunt's not home again today
Though she's sitting here with me
She eats her lunch and sips her tae
Sometimes I look at her and pray 
And wonder where her mind might be.

I'm not sure where she spent her day
Her hat and coat were on the chair.
She mused with friends I could not say	
I saw or heard.  Yet she would play 
with them, although they were not there.

She sleeps with cats who love her so.
She talks more to them than to us.
They seem to understand and know
That often she would come and go
into a world mysterious.

The youngest sister of my Dad
wore out family through the years
the greatest challenge that they had
to mercy, because she was mad.
Yet she is old now, the end nears.

"Remember Charity" he'd say.
And when he died I wondered who
would love her now, so far away
in madhouse locked "til dying day?
I prayed for Love, then said "I do."

She makes up stories in her head
enjoying friends who are not there.
Reality is gone.  Instead,
she lives fiction, plans to wed.
Yet in my heart I more than care.

She is my blood, my father's own
and though her sickness wearies me
I could not let her die alone.
My God is Love, my Cornerstone.
Love gives God's eyes with which to see.

C.1995 Cait Finnegan



Well, that's the family session.   I'm sorry you can't hear theses songs yet, 
because music gives life to words and ideas and feelings, 
and most of these are put to music.  I'll be getting some sound up here soon!

I hope you enjoyed them as the love songs they are.

If you did like them, you can read others songs of Faith and Heritage by
visiting the sites listed below.   Just pour yourself a drop, and relax and read!   

Blessings,
Cáit




Visit these other links for more poems 

from the collection 



"ANCIENT GHOSTS
AND 
GREEN HEART SONGS:"


Love of Family

Faith in God

Love of my heritage 

Songs for Friends

Irish Fun Music

and

Love of this beautiful world God has given us!

or sadly...

Poems about spiritual or sexual abuse

For information about me visit:

CAIT'S HOMEPAGE


Celtic Christian Church Homepage

Visit

The Rose of Sharon Religious Books 
and Articles
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