Finding the words

At a time of bereavement, we often find ourselves without the right words to express what a loved one meant to us. When speaking at a funeral, we want to make a personal and worthy tribute, a final goodbye to someone important to us. Often, we choose to adopt the words of others: poets, writers or musicians whose works can describe the universal feeling of loss and sadness better than we ever could.

In a new collection called Fond Memory: Consoling Words from the Irish Tradition, editors Íde Ní Laoghaire and Mary Webb have collated 150 evocative poems, prayers, hymns, songs, phrases and blessings to help us bring solace to those around us at a time of loss. Although other such collections exist, this one uniquely features an all-Irish cast, making it a fitting tool for both the relations and friends of Irish people and for the Irish diaspora abroad.

Many of the selected works will be familiar – Patrick Kavanagh's 'In Memory of My Mother'; Austin Clarke's 'The Planter's Daughter; 'Ag Chríost an Síol' – while others are from less well known authors. As well as works chosen for their power and poignancy, there are poems for quiet personal reflection, to which we can turn after and before funeral ceremonies for solace.

Not only for those dealing with loss, Fond Memory is, in itself, a wonderful collection of Irish works by such legends as Oscar Wilde, Yeats, Heaney, Kavanagh, Kennelly, Percy French, Francis Ledwidge, Pádraic Pearse, Oliver St John Gogarty and many others.

Here, we are running three of our favourite poems from Fond Memory: 'The Patriot's Wife' by Charles Gavan Duffy; 'Valediction' by Seamus Heaney and 'Night Air' by Sheila O'Hagan.

Night Air, by Shiela O'Hagan

I love your walking in on me each night,

Not the usual wisp and tatter

Of the undressed ghost but resolute

And bright in your own clothes,

Outstretched hands saying it is I.

But come and see, outside this room

The salvias still bloom, the window breathes

Warm air through rattan slats, in the French door

Shines the bronze haze of the crysanthemums,

Strange you are not reflected there.

Needing no space you are in me, light seeps

Down your sleeves, out of your shoes. Sit down,

Your glass is filled, have you seen Schubert?

I thought my heart tomb dark and cold

But love is rogue and it is I who call you.

Valediction, by Seamus Heaney

Lady with the frilled blouse

And simple tartan skirt,

Since you have left the house

Its emptiness has hurt

All thought. In your presence

Time rode easy, anchored

On a smile; but absence

Rocked love's balance, unmoored

The days. They buck and bound

Across the calendar

Pitched from the quiet sound

Of your flower-tender

Voice. Need breaks on my strand;

You've gone, I am at sea.

Until you resume command

Self is in mutiny.

The Poet's Wife, by Charles Gavan Dufy
[Last verse]

For still to me, dear friend, dear love,

Or both – dear wife,

Your image comes with serious thoughts,

But tender, rife;

No idle plaything to caress or chide

In sport or strife

But my best chosen friend, companion, guide,

To walk through life,

Linked hand-in-hand, two equal, loving friends,

true husband and true wife.