poppa: 3/31/14 - 9/7/07

my sister's eulogy...

He would have been 93 years old next month. So that's 93 years of life we are here celebrating today. And I am sure he is looking down with a big smile. Maybe even winking and pushing out his dentures for a giggle from his grandchildren..

Sixty years ago, Poppa left Ireland. And there's no doubt in my mind, he left Ireland with a heavy heart. He loved Ireland. But he came here anyway. He came here for a "better life." Maybe not for him, but for his ever growing family.

As long as I knew my grandfather, he spoke of the "Old Country", he'd listen to Irish music, and sometimes appeared wishful for the "old days."

But did he regret coming here? I don't think so.

Look around. His entire family, down to his great grandchildren, enjoy things in life that he only dreamed of.

And he knew it. He was so proud.

When he looked at us or spoke to us - you could feel his pride. "Did you get yourself a car yet?" And he'd look out the window to see what we drove up in. "Do you like it?" Or he'd ask "How's New York? You got an apartment there? What's it like?"

Remember the sparkle in his eye when he dancved at Mary and Ellens' weddings or when he escorted Abbey as the Holyoke Colleen. Boy, was he proud.

And deservedly so. He came here, he worked hard and saved his money (often in the most unconventional ways - like toothpick sized rolls of dollar bills.)

He watched his children grow, have families, and enjoy the luxuries his sacrifice afforded them. Whether it was the purchase of a house or a golf game, or the birth of a new great grandchild. He would smile knowingly.

Look at what he gave us. Look at all we could enjoy because of his hard work.

And he never stopped. He did not rest. It was not long ago that I stopped by to visit and he was on top of a ladder, cleaning the gutters. Why? I'd ask. But I knew. A proud man dresses himself everyday - to the nines - a proud man keeps his yard free of leaves, keeps his hedges trimmed perfectly - and he was proud.

So, as we sit here today, I hope that we remember Poppa for his hard work, his sacrifice, and most of all, for the joy that he took in his accomplishments and ours. We should be proud of him and ourselves and go forward continuing to make him proud. Because he'll be watching. And when we meet him again, he'll certainly want to know - "How's that car run? You like it?"