Peter Jennings 1938 - 2005
As a young girl, I fantasized that one day, when I was older, I would marry Peter Jennings...he was my hero.
Now he is gone from us. He died of cancer, just like my dad. I'd like to imagine them in heaven, laughing and shaking their heads at all of us. My father, a great storyteller, would be telling Peter about the time his militery unit accidentally bombed the latrine.
Peter would be laughing...
An Irish Funeral Prayer
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.
Farewell Peter Jennings....please say hi to my da for me...and pat Margaret Anne on the head and wish her love.
Until next time-
C.
