Betty Fitzgerald thank you for your kindness

Mrs Fitzgerald was buried in Killiney Cemetery, Castlegregory, Co Kerry this morning.

Probably 10 years ago I called her Mrs Fitzgerald but in recent times she was Betty and I was Michael.

Betty was 86. Her husband died in 1978 of a heart attack while out fishing on the local lake. Her mother died when she was a small girl. And she may well also have lost a brother at a young age.

Betty had a brother a priest in the diocese of Kerry, Fr Michael, who died some years ago. Another brother, who moved to the US, died suddenly within days of Betty falling ill some months ago, the illness, which was to take her life.

The family ran a farm and also a shop and public house in Castlegregory. These days the pub is run by her son Maurice.

That's just a little biographical information on 'Mrs Fitzgerald'.

I'm not quite sure how it happened. She and I had a very different world view. She would not at all have been 'happy' with many of my words and beliefs and yet we became the best of friends. I can't recall how it initially happened but maybe suddenly, maybe over a period of time, we started talking to one another and then I began calling to the house.

There would be the harsh word, there would be the criticism of something that I had written or said but I always got the feeling that this woman genuinely liked me. And that was simply a wonderful feeling of security.

Scrolling through my telephone today I found pages and pages of SMSs from Betty, whether in praise or criticism, they were all written in a tone of genuine friendship.

On May 5, when she was weak and fragile she sent me an SMS: "Any mountain climbing 2day". And that from a woman with serious respiratory illness and 86-years of age.

She constantly criticised me for being critical of the hierarchical church, told me to say nothing and keep my thoughts to myself. "Be positive in what you say, you need to build up people," she would admonish me.

And yet sometimes I would get a hint that somewhere deep inside her pscyhe there may well have been hints of her agreeing with what I might say.

I learned today that she was the first woman in the village to wear trousers.

Betty was genuinely kind to me. Never spoke an ill word behind my back. What she had to say to me, she said straight to my face.

I was fortunate that our paths crossed.

Betty, I shall miss you.

Thank you.