Eulogy for Gerard Cooney 1942–2020
Delivered at St. Thérèse Church, Mount Merrion, 16 March 2020
Thank you everyone. I am speaking on behalf of my mother Attracta, my sister Elaine, and our partners Sigurbjörn and Stevie. I would like to begin by talking about the man Gerard was, our memories of him as a father, and how he faced the long challenge of his illness.
I will then give thanks to those who helped my father and our family these last years, and share some messages we have received from people who could not attend.
Who he was
My father was profoundly impacted by the loss of his father, John Francis Cooney, when he was 7 years old. When I began preparing this eulogy, I thought of dad’s essential kindness, generosity and sociability. I believe these qualities were due in part to his memory and love for his father after his passing and how he chose to carry forward John’s spirit with him.
Dad travelled widely, including living in Canada working as a teacher. Through the Christian Brothers, teaching became his passport to the world. Over the last few months, as dad’s condition threatened to worsen, I began searching online for mentions of him. I found accounts by former school classmates, colleagues and even his own students from De La Salle, Ballyfermot. He loved his friends. He liked to entertain them with historical titbits, trivia and jokes that he had heard.
When I was growing up, if I set foot in Ballyfermot where dad taught remedial studies and grinds, I was sure to hear a voice calling after me ‘there’s the Master’s son’.
One Saturday morning, when we were returning from weekend grinds that I would accompany dad to, we stopped at a set of lights in Claddagh. A young man approached the car window and thanked dad for helping him achieve his qualifications. He passed through the window an apple pie he had just made at the bakery he worked at. It was one of the proudest moments in dad’s life.
As a father
For dad being a teacher wasn’t just a job. His whole life was driven by a love of learning and sharing knowledge. He was a writer, an actor, a raconteur.
He loved reading and our home had a wide library of books. Reading was for him equally pleasurable or edifying. You could find on dad’s shelf a copy of Samuel Beckett’s dramatic writings next to Spike Milligan’s Puckoon.
In 1988 dad would publish his own book, Some Dubliners of Note. It was an illustrated pamphlet featuring biographical accounts of famous Dubliners, marking the millennium of his home town.
My mother once joked that if we ever lost dad to check the local bookstores, or the library.
Growing up with dad meant Elaine and myself were treated to a rich trove of storytelling of all kinds — books (particularly works on Irish mythology), films, and he was an early adopter of computers recognising how games would familiarise his children with these tools of work in the future.
He gave us stories. In Elaine’s art and music, and my writing, I think we try to carry that legacy forward. Although I couldn’t send him my last comic book — too many swears!
Dad was also a person of sincere faith. For him teaching and sharing knowledge was a facet of Christian mission.
His illness
It was over the course of dad’s long illness that his investments in kindness and generosity were realised. One of dad’s favourite Bible parables was the mustard seed after all.
Old friends would reach out to mam to arrange a visit. After they’d arrived, you would hear laughter from dad’s room. He was still telling jokes.
One thing was always clear — dad’s mind, his appreciation for literature, storytelling, and grace in this life, was still working even as the disorder took more of his body away.
Oscar Wilde’s line ‘that little tent of blue/ Which prisoners call the sky’ feels apt. Dad continued to push himself to express his thoughts and his wishes for his family. He was delighted that Elaine and I found partners, and was a loving grandfather to Eldey.
Dad lived with patience and courage in the face of a debilitating condition. Mam was with him at the end, when he found his peace.
Messages from Australia
Friends and relatives in Australia asked me to pass on their thoughts and messages today.
Father John Knight offered his sincere condolences to mam and the family. Father John is a descendent of a branch of the Cooney family that emigrated to Australia in the 1800s and were not heard from until dad made contact with them in the early 90s. Genealogy was a particular passion of dad’s. Father John’s parents, aunt and uncle made contact and travelled out to spend time with dad. Discovering this branch of the Cooney family was one of the happiest occasions in dad’s life.
Stevie’s mother Gabriela Taylor sent a message of support for mam and the family, as did her siblings and their partners.
Stevie’s father Ian Fargher emailed a message for me to share with you.
Please let Attracta know of my thoughts and particularly of the events at the time of your wedding, when Gerard put so much effort to convey the warmth of his feelings for us and for you, his son’s bride. When I carried him up that 17th century stairwell I recognised an intelligent, compassionate man from within his affliction. The efforts of Attracta to give Gerard quality of life over many years are to be commended and I’m sure were appreciated. Much love, Ian & Mary.
Thanks
We would like to thank Father Joe Mullan for his generosity of time and assistance to us all, especially given the sensitive period we are experiencing.
We would also like to acknowledge the care and attention of Dr Arthur Searson, our general practitioner and the staff at the Kilmacud Pharmacy. Mam wanted me to emphasise in particular how much she appreciated the extent to which Dr Searson went beyond his duty of care for dad and provided excellent aid.
Our thanks to Willie Phillips, who visited dad to give holy communion during his illness.
And again, to dad’s former colleagues and friends for their visits and efforts to raise his good humour.
Over these years many people continued to ask after and enquire about dad’s condition with sensitivity and clear affection for him. We would sincerely like to thank all of them for this simple act of kindness.
On a personal note, I would like to thank my mother for her care and essential aid that kept dad comfortable and gave him dignity; and her family for the support and help given to their sister and aunt.
Thank you.
From Psalm 102, given at the mass for Gerard Cooney
As for man, his days are like grass;
he flowers like the flowers of the field;
the wind blows and he is gone
and his place never sees him again
