When a lovely man

who had parkinson's decided it was time to end his own life I was devastated.  He was a member of our writer's group and one of the gentlest people I have ever met.  A one time priest from Eire it must have been a difficult decision to take as suicide is against the teachings of the catholic church.  Anyway on his passing I wrote this for his memory.

The Quiet Irish Man

A gentle voice with soft Irish accent,

A bright sparkle in your lovely eyes.

You lived life to the fullest,

And saw good in most things under the skies

A quiet proud man who for years

Dedicated his life to his lord.

You travelled and worked across countries

Spreading your god’s holy word.

Then you met a person so wonderful

She became a huge part of your life.

You left your vocation in priesthood

So that you could make her your wife.

But years took their toll on your health

And illness, took your freedom away.

Things that you once took for granted

Became harder to do day by day.

Living became such a struggle

You couldn’t go out for a walk,

Writing your stories wasn’t an option,

It was difficult to just simply talk.

That’s when you made your decision,

The time, the place and the date

Wrote letters for those you were leaving

And went off to your heaven’s gate.

No more of your soft Irish accent

Those sparkling eyes are now dead

All that is left are our memories

Of a quiet, Irish, man - our friend, Ned.

Freda Brodie (May 2010)