Pat Courtney: caoin
Lord, you are hard on mothers;
We suffer in their coming and their going.
This is a line taken from a poem written by Paraic Pearce, the leader of the Dublin Uprising in 1916. It was his effort to try and explain the pain of a mother in the senseless death of so many young men in that uprising. I say it is an effort, for Pearce and other men do not fully understand the pain of their ‘coming’ or the even greater pain of their ‘going’. We have an expression in the Gaelic language called a caoin. Perhaps the nearest translation in English is a wail of lament. In that cemetery on that Friday when beloved Ester was laid to rest, I heard that caoin. This was a mother’s cry and it struck deep. I can only imagine what caused that caoin. I cannot experience what caused that caoin.
I have memories of Ester. My wife, Marguerita, worked with Angela in a comprehensive school in north London. Ester and my son were about the same age. They were friends and both families became great friends. We were all present at her Bat Mitzvah. How powerful that voice was!
This beautiful purple princess, plucked from life, has given more to fellow human beings than most of us could do in a lifetime. I do not understand the mind of God. She has left all of us with her wit, laughter and a deepness of soul that only God can understand.
She is at peace. Angela suffers in her ‘going.’
"As for ourselves, save us by your hand, and come to my help for I am alone, and have no one but you, Lord. You have knowledge of all things………and free me from my fear." (Esther 4.17)
We suffer in their coming and their going.
This is a line taken from a poem written by Paraic Pearce, the leader of the Dublin Uprising in 1916. It was his effort to try and explain the pain of a mother in the senseless death of so many young men in that uprising. I say it is an effort, for Pearce and other men do not fully understand the pain of their ‘coming’ or the even greater pain of their ‘going’. We have an expression in the Gaelic language called a caoin. Perhaps the nearest translation in English is a wail of lament. In that cemetery on that Friday when beloved Ester was laid to rest, I heard that caoin. This was a mother’s cry and it struck deep. I can only imagine what caused that caoin. I cannot experience what caused that caoin.
I have memories of Ester. My wife, Marguerita, worked with Angela in a comprehensive school in north London. Ester and my son were about the same age. They were friends and both families became great friends. We were all present at her Bat Mitzvah. How powerful that voice was!
This beautiful purple princess, plucked from life, has given more to fellow human beings than most of us could do in a lifetime. I do not understand the mind of God. She has left all of us with her wit, laughter and a deepness of soul that only God can understand.
She is at peace. Angela suffers in her ‘going.’
"As for ourselves, save us by your hand, and come to my help for I am alone, and have no one but you, Lord. You have knowledge of all things………and free me from my fear." (Esther 4.17)
posted by Ester memories at 5:59 pm
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