Counterpoint - Vale Father Kevin Sweeney

31st. August 2011

All of us have been touched by loss in recent times, particularly with the loss of our cherished fellow Rotarian, Father Kevin Sweeney.

I have given over this week's Sergeant's Session to the reading of Father Kevin's favourite humorous prose - a piece he recited to me on many occasions called, "An Irish Mother's Letter to Her Son".

Continued here in Counterpoint, a beautiful, reflective piece of literature by Kahlil Gibran. I hope you find both readings healing, uplifting and a little thought provoking during this transitional grieving period.

With love to us all, JO.

JO BEILBY

President 2011-12

VALE FATHER KEVIN SWEENEY, P.E., P.H.F.

Members and partners spotted in the huge congregation at the Pontifical concelebrated Requiem Mass at St. Catherine's Moorabbin on Monday 22 August included Linda, Zilla, Barry, Ian, Richard, Tim L. and Tim M., Alan and Julie, Ron and Marilyn and Tony and Leonie. Apologies to anyone missed in this record but there were five bishops, thirty-nine priests and hundreds of Kevin's family and friends present to pay tribute to an extraordinary, much loved, simple man, 60 years a priest and close to 40 years a Rotarian (Preston, Waverley, Moorabbin Central and 16 years at BMC).

Kevin's classmate at Corpus Christi Werribee (1944 to 1951), Father Lou Heriot, and the present parish priest at St. Catherine's, Father Michael Sierakowski, both referred to Kevin's long commitment to Rotary and, of course, to his life long commitment to his Church, his people, indeed almost every one he ever met, and alas, to Collingwood.

Kevin embodied the Rotary principle of service to others. May he Rest in Peace.

Tony Ryan

ON DEATH XXVII

Kahlil Gibran (1883 - 1931)

Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
And he said: You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day 

cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, 

open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow, your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king 

whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, 

that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Yours in Rotary Friendship, 

An Irish Mother's Letter to Her Son

Dear Son,

Just a few lines to let you know that I am still alive. I am writing this letter slowly because I know that you cannot read very cf  fast.

You won't recognise the house anymore when you come home; we moved because your Dad read in the paper that most accidents happen within 20 miles of home. I won't be able to send you the address as the last family here took the numbers with them for their next house, so they wouldn't have to change their address.

There was a new style of washing machine in the house when we moved in, but it wasn't working too good. I put 14 shirts into it last week, pulled the chain and I haven't seen them since!

About your father - he has a lovely new job. He now has 500 people under him. He is cutting the grass at the cemetery.

Auntie Maude has sent you a pair of socks she knitted, she put a third one in because she heard you have grown another foot since she last saw you.

The coat you wanted me to send you, your Aunt Sue said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with the heavy buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.

Your sister, Mary, had a baby this morning. I haven't found out yet whether it was a boy or a girl, so I don't know if you are an Uncle or an Aunt.

Jimmy locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him two hours to get me and your father out.

Your Aunt Harriet took a flight from New York to Los Angeles last week, said it was the first time she had ever arrived somewhere before she had left. Last time she thinks that might have happened, the doctors said it was Altzeimer's disease.

Your Uncle Dick drowned last week in a vat of whiskey in Dublin Brewery. Some of his co-workers dived in to save him, but he fought them off bravely. We cremated the body and it took three days to put out the fire.

Your father didn't have much to drink at Christmas. I put a bottle of castor oil in his pint of beer and it kept him going until New Year's day.

I went to the doctor on Thursday, and your father came with me. The doctor put a small tube in my mouth and told me not to open it for ten minutes - your father offered to buy it from him.

It only rained twice last week. First time was for three days and the second for four. On Monday the wind blew so hard that one of the chickens laid the same egg four times.

Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pickup truck. Butch was driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two friends were in the back. They drowned because they couldn't get the tailgate down.

We received a letter yesterday from the undertaker. He said that if the last payment on your Grandmother's funeral wasn't made, up she comes.

Your loving Mother,

PS I was going to send you ten dollars, but I have already sealed the envelope.

Vale Father Kevin may you rest in peace.