A little light has gone out, with the death of John Greaney Snr., Seapoint, Bearna, on January 5th. A man of immense talent, generosity, and love, but also modesty, kindness, and humour.

In the hours and days after his death, his family said many times how overwhelmed they were by the response from those who knew him.

Born and bred in Bearna, the large Greaney family lived in a thatched cottage in the centre of the village. Like many of his generation, John emigrated to England looking for work.

He was not too lonely, for he was with fellow Barna men, including Tom Curran, and siblings.

As good Catholic boys, they rarely missed Mass, but one particular Saturday night out turned into a Sunday morning, and they were in no state to pray. But, they decided to go to evening Mass.

John was driving, and he arrived with the other lads to a church near Kilburn in London. They were a bit late, and were about to get out of the car and head in when they saw a priest hanging around the doorway. They decided to hold off, hoping he would go away, so that they could sneak in unnoticed.

Eventually, he seemed to wander off, so they made a run for it. But, lo-and-behold, wasn’t the priest lying in wait! He intercepted them before they reached the door. They apologised profusely for being late, and John admitted that they would have been in earlier if they hadn’t been trying to avoid him.

The priest said that he had seen them arriving, and sure wasn’t he waiting for them to get out of the car! Expecting an ear-bashing, they were pleasantly surprised. He said that their parents would be very proud that they were still going to Mass. That priest, who had been such a wonderful presence for Irish people in England during those difficult years, later became Bishop Eamonn Casey.

On one of John’s visits home he spotted a lovely 15-year-old neighbour, Noreen O’Connor – who lived in what is now the only surviving cottage in the village.

“After first laying eyes on her, he said straight out: ‘I’m going to marry her one day,’” his eldest son, Frank, recalled at John’s funeral in Bearna Church.

“But it would be years later, following a chance meeting on the dance floor of the Galtymore dancehall in London, that their love blossomed. He proposed on their third date, but it would take a few more attempts before she saw what he saw – the prospect of an amazing life together.”

Two love letters, that John had sent from England to Noreen during those years, were presented as gifts to the altar.

“On their wedding day, in October 1969, in front of many of you gathered here today, he promised to be true to Mum in sickness and in health, love her and honour her all the days of his life. I can assure you, he lived up to those vows – he adored Mum; she was his life, he took such good care of her, and always put her first.”

John’s eldest daughter, Gertrude, said that her dad had told her in his last few weeks that all he had every wanted in life was a wife, children, and a key to his own home.

“He achieved all he had ever wanted,” she said.

“He was generous and kind-hearted to everyone he met. His generosity knew no bounds. Everything was magical to him, especially the GPS. We took him to Dublin a few years ago, and he couldn’t believe how the girl in the phone could get us there.

“He set the bar incredibly high when it came to love. His love for Mum was so pure, all he thought of was her. They were true lovebirds.”

The last word went to John’s grandson, Jack (9). He described his granddad as a kind and loving gentleman.

“He told me many times how proud he was of me, and I am glad I told him every time I saw him that I loved him. When granddad collected me from school every Monday and Thursday, he would bring me into Supervalu for a chicken roll and two packs of wine gums – one for after lunch and one to take home.

“He helped me with my homework, he was always good at maths. He always had a big fire on when I came back to his house. After we finished homework, we would go into the sitting room and watch The Chase gameshow with Nana. Granddad and I were on the team against Nana, but she always won. Every time I’d ask granddad to play football outside he’d say: ‘Yes Jack, we will play for five minutes’ – but that usually meant an hour or more.

“He loved animals, and really missed his dog Tucker when he died. He made a special place for him in the front garden. He threw out food for the foxes at night and made sure the birds were fed too.

“He was also a great gardener - his flowers were bigger and more colourful than anyone else’s. He was also a great cook, his favourite was a good lamb stew. He also loved to make me rasher sandwiches with white pudding. He never let me go hungry.

“What makes me laugh the most, when I think of my granddad, was his silly dancing and his crazy dance moves when he’d bend over and shake his bum. He had everyone in stitches.”

John passed away on the morning of January 5th at Galway Hospice, following a short illness.

“Dad hated fuss, he said he didn’t want a fuss made for his funeral,” Frank added.

“He would say: ‘Just fling me in a skip, or toss me over John O’Donnell’s wall’. We obviously didn’t grant that wish. He wanted today to be about how he lived his life, and not how it ended.”

John Greaney is survived by his wife, Noreen; their children, Gertrude, Frank, John, and Eileen; siblings, Peter, Eugene, Tommy, Mary and Detta; grandson, Jack; and his beloved dog, Ali.

Ní bheidh a leithead arís ann.