My first cousin Patricia Lonergan rang me recently to tell me that my auntie Gretta, aged 90, had died. What an auntie and what a lifelong educator she had been in her roles as teacher and principal in Tallow. She was a proud mam to her six children, Patricia (Lonergan), Sean, Annette (Neil), Conor, Eamonn and Barry Power. She was married to the late, great educator and GAA man, Ned Power.

Tears of nostalgia flowed gently onto my pillow left and right. Memories flooded in of sunshine-filled days, buckets and shovels, the hunt for a stone to put up the wind breaker on the beaches of Waterford. Catty Bowe, Gretta called me, especially in her latter years.

It would jog her memory of a time she could remember vividly, when we cousins were little and life stretched before them and us. Maria (my Mum) and Gretta were sisters and Colman O’Flynn was their brother. Gretta was the last to die. Alzheimer’s robbed us all of our beloved Gretta for the last few years. That doesn’t negate a lifetime of beautiful relationship.

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For her 80th birthday, she asked for a party in my house. Her first cousin Nuala Daly was home from Australia and Gretta just wanted this little extra celebration.

Close siblings

The three siblings, Colman, Maria and Gretta were exceptionally close. The girls shared their memories of Colman when they were growing up, painting a picture of a mischievous boy but a brother that they could count on always as their confidant and protector.

I was the first born of all the cousins. I had a bond with Gretta that started very early in my life. My Dad, Phil Bowe died suddenly when I was just over two, leaving my mam a young widow and pregnant with my brother Phil. Gretta, Ned and Patricia came every weekend to Tipperary to help Mam and us through her grief.

This forged a closeness that is unusual among cousins and also a gratefulness for the unselfish way that Gretta and Ned gave so much time to us.

As we grew and younger cousins arrived, the Square in Cahir was the meeting point for cousins to be exchanged. The time was agreed between Maria and Gretta on the landline. The excitement of getting into the car bound for Tallow was magic. The sisters made sure to holiday for two weeks together in various venues around Ireland.

Gretta never knew that I have cancer. Her failing mental capacity would have meant that she would have relived the shock of difficult news over and over again. She never knew that her grandson, Ronan Neil, died having tried with all his might to beat an unrelenting cancer.

This forged a closeness that is unusual among cousins and also a gratefulness for the unselfish way that Gretta and Ned gave so much time to us

Her daughter Annette had to go through all that without the support of her mother. Yet Gretta would question Annette about how many children she had. It was as if she had a sixth sense about life’s realities.

Requiem mass

I was unwell on the day of Gretta’s funeral. I was so grateful to be able to participate remotely. I saw Gretta’s daughters and sons give her a mighty send off. I watched her grandchildren, led by Aisling, remember her beautifully in the gifts they brought to the altar.

Then it was the turn of Gretta’s youngest son, Barry to do the eulogy. What a job he did acknowledging the bond between the three-sibling families.

He talked of the laughter between Gretta and Maria. Always laughter, he intoned. Isn’t that the loveliest of memories? Aunties and uncles have a major role to play in children’s lives.

Auntie Gretta, RIP, really was the queen amongst aunties.