My mother Bernie died on March 11th. My sister gave me the long dreaded 'get on a flight home now' message the day before, and thankfully I made it to the hospital in Dublin to hold her hand for a few hours before she left us.
This is the eulogy I delivered at the end of her funeral mass on March 19th. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam.
--
Good morning everyone. It's wonderful that we can all
be here today to remember Bernie together, now that the worst of the pandemic
restrictions are over. All of her family is here too with a couple of big
exceptions: her sister Patty who is in a nursing home and too unwell to be here,
and my daughter Emily who was unable to come over from Sweden but I know she's
watching on the webcam. (Hi Emily! Hi to everyone who is watching online!).
At a Lumsden family moment like this we also remember
my cousin, Father Dave Lumsden, who died in the first year of the pandemic when
there were very tight restrictions on funeral attendance. He was our guide in
these moments and we feel his absence today.
I'd like to tell you some things about my Mam and,
given that she was energetic and sharp as a tack for her entire 92 and a half
years, there are an awful lot of things to choose from.
I’ll start with the swimming lessons. Mam taught
literally hundreds of people to swim, kids and adults. She believed that
everyone should know how to swim, that it was an essential life skill. So, when
the pool was built for the boys school on Parnell Road she was disappointed that
there were no public lessons. She made an arrangement with the Christian
Brothers and booked four hours a week to run lessons for everyone, charging
just enough to cover the cost of the rental. She put a lot of work into it for
no financial reward for more than 15 years, and long after she'd stopped she'd
have people coming up to her in SuperValu to say 'you're Mrs Lumsden aren't
you? You taught me to swim when I was a kid!'
Mam was a fluent Irish speaker. Not from school of
course - she left school at 14 - but with the support of Dad she enrolled in
adult education in her late 40's and worked painstakingly to learn vocabulary
and master the complicated grammar. When Ita and I were in our rooms doing our
homework, Mam would be at the dining room table working on an modh
coinníollach or an tuiseal ginideach, words to bring back terrifying
memories of Irish grammar lessons at school to many of us! She became
completely fluent, she and Dad holidaying every year in the Gaeltacht in County
Kerry. At 90 years old she was still toddling off down by the canal on Parnell
Road every Monday morning to take the Luas to Dundrum to participate in an
Irish conversation group. Mam, born and bred in Dublin with little education,
was a proud gaeilgeoir.
She was also a published poet, in both English and in Irish. She took part in creative writing classes, and had poems published in the three volumes of the 'Women's Work' collections. Here's a poem about my Dad that was published in the third volume. It's entitled 'Scéal Grá' or 'A Love Story' - I'll read it and then summarise it afterwards for all of us whose Irish is not at Mam's level.
Scéal
Grá
Is
gnáthduine mé
Coitianta a bhí mo shaol.
Tháinig tú chugam-sa
Thóg
tú mo chroi
Thug tú ghrá dom
Gan
cheist gan chúis
Uaitse
a fuair mé
Saibhreas
saoil
Is
gnáthduine mé
D'aithrigh
tú mo shaol.
In the poem Mam says she is a 'gnáthdhuine' - an
ordinary person - and that Dad loved her and changed her life. It's true, he
did, but I think you'll agree that Bernie Lumsden was far from an ordinary
woman.
She was an avid traveller. Not just to Tunisia on
packaged holidays, though she did that several time with Dad, but ready to venture
out and explore different cultures. As a young woman she travelled extensively
across post-war Europe with her sister Patty. (In the light of the recent
events of Ukraine I should probably call it inter-war Europe, unfortunately.) At
almost 80 years old she travelled to Vietnam to visit Ita and her family. Aged
90, her last trip was with me just before the pandemic to see her
grand-daughter and two great-granddaughters in Sweden.
The pandemic put an end to a lot of her activities of
course, but throughout she remained independent, living alone in her house on
Parnell Road, keeping up with the news and, of course, with the Formula One.
She was a big fan, I took her to the Canadian GP a few times. No doubt this
weekend she would have been insisting to me again that Vettel was a better
driver than Hamilton. I realise now that she got the last word on that topic!
I've been living in Canada for almost fifteen years
now, and so my sister Ita and her family did a huge amount for Mam these past
few years to help her maintain her independence. So too did her friends,
especially Tricia and Tommy, and Sister Ailish and Sister Imelda.
The last two months were tough for Mam, moving back
and forwards between the hospital and the convalescent home, but given her
strength and her willpower Ita and I were sure she would be home again. When I
spoke to her last week she was still up-to-date on what all of her
grandchildren were doing. The end of her life came too soon, which is a
remarkable thing to be able to say about a woman who was almost 93 years old.
There’s a lot more to say about Mam. After the burial in Sutton it'd be great if as many of you as possible came with us to the White Sands Hotel in Portmarnock where we'll remember Mam in the way she'd have loved, with a chat over something to eat and a cup of tea. Thank you.
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| Mam in her element, windblown on Inch beach in Kerry, August 2018 |
