I attended the funeral of Martin O’Grady today in Monasteraden. My earliest memories of Martin were, as his son described him at the end of Mass, as the “Meter Reader”. He came to read the ESB meter at home and in homes for about a thirty mile radius of home. It’s ironic that, in the week he died, there is much lamenting of the absence of the “Meter Reader” in most areas now and the consequence is estimated bills being issued by the various electricity suppliers and seldom, if ever, are their estimates in favour of the customer! Martin’s visits ensured an accurate reading and, though the bill still might not be eagerly welcomed, it was based on fact – the fact of a man’s eyes having seen and recorded the details.
As years passed, I knew him as a neighbour and during my time in Ballaghaderreen Parish and, in particular, in the Monasteraden area, I knew him as a loyal parishioner and a very supportive and kind man. He made me so welcome and was always a joy to meet.
As I mentioned, one of Martin’s sons spoke at the end of Mass and I have to say I was impressed. It was not so much what he said as the way he said it. There was sincerity there. His words about his father were rooted in a solid and loving relationship and a very deep level of respect. He spoke of the pride he and his family had in their mother for the way she cared for Martin in recent years. He spoke too of his brothers and sister and how much they had done that he could not have done without them. There was a depth to it, that touched something deep in me. I’m always impressed, be it at a wedding or a funeral, to hear family members publicly acknowledge their brothers and sisters. I heard that today.
I also heard Martin’s granddaughter sing. She was amazingly good and delivered her song with real feeling. I’ve known her since she was a baby and almost walked past her today as I entered the church because it’s been too long since I’ve met her. She called me – as does all her family – “Vinny” as I walked past and, no more than Jesus calling “Mary” on that Easter Day, I recognised her in the name and in the tone. I was very proud of her singing. She sang also at her other grandfather’s funeral but she was younger then and the words she sang were words she had written. I liked them too but there was no denying that she has found her voice and, having found it, uses it so well.
Met a lot of my neighbours there today and was happy to meet them. It’s a pity though that we, all too often, wait for funerals to meet people.
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As always you too have a lovely way with words. Well done.