Related Stories

• Powering Kindness Week – are you involved?
  
  
• Sights set on Canada for Ryan School of Dancing
  
  
• Recalling January 1994 – Avondhu news headlines
  
  
• Special text alert meeting in Castlelyons
  
  
• Curraghagalla NS awarded for water safety
  
  
• Local authorities report highlights environmental situation in Avondhu area
  
  
• Cavanagh’s of Fermoy sponsor car in Crumlin draw
  
  
• Estates clean-up service returning to Fermoy
  
  
• Operation Transformation at Walsh’s Pharmacy, Fermoy
  
  
• Diecast model fans descend on Conna
  
  
• Crowds flock to Christy’s bird lecture
  
  
• Closure of Fermoy Country Market after 40 years
  
  

The late Paddy McCormack.

The death of Paddy McCormack occurred on Monday, January 12, surrounded by his family, under the care of the matron and staff at Mallow General Hospital.

A resident of Rathowen, Fermoy for the last ten years of his life and formerly of Bartlemy, Paddy was a native of Loughrea, Co Galway where he was fifth in a family of eight. He served his time as a baker in Loughrea,where he worked in the trade for a number of years before going into building, working as a plasterer right up to his retirement.

Paddy emigrated to London in the early 1960s and it was there in 1965 that he met the love of his life, a beautiful young girl named Catherine O’ Regan. They married in 1967, and returned to settle in Ireland in 1973, eventually making their home in Catherine’s native Bartlemy in the mid 80’s.

A man with a great sense of humour and fun, Paddy was a wonder for telling stories of the adventures he had during his years in London, living and working with his cousins. Those stories were the highlight of many a family gathering for many years, and he will be remembered fondly for them. Any social gathering, be it at a house or at Denis Barry’s Bar in Bartlemy, wasn’t a party until Paddy McCormack sang.

Maybe he didn’t have the widest repertoire, but the songs he did have, he delivered with style and gusto and always got called upon for an encore. Equally, he always made sure that the ‘best of order’ was maintained whenever his children sang at such gatherings.

A loving grandad, Paddy was proud beyond words of his grandchildren, Ali and Andrew. He never tired of watching them flourish, and was never shy to express how much he loved them and how proud he was of their achievements, Ali on stage and Andy on the playing field.

His funeral mass took place on Thursday, 15th of January at St Patrick's Church, Fermoy where a large crowd turned out to be part of what was a true celebration of a much loved and generous man. The eulogy was delivered by Paddy’s grandson Andrew in the form of this self-penned piece entitle ‘My Grandad’ which we publish hereunder.

Rest in peace Paddy. ‘Big Sam’ has left the building!

He is survived by his loving wife Catherine, his children Kevin, William and Ann-Marie (Burdett), his heart-broken grandchildren Alison and Andrew, his sisters and their families to who we extend our deepest sympathy.

'MY GRANDAD' By ANDREW McCORMACK

My Grandad, the lover, he loved all of us with all his heart.

My Grandad, the man from the 'Wesht', he came from Loughrea and proud he was of it.

My Grandad, a lover of the horses, he never failed to do his ‘Lucky 15’ every day. It always amazed me how much time and effort went into the horses, no doubt profits in the bookies will go up now.

My Grandad, the only man I knew who loved peeling spuds and washing up. “Lave that loveen”, he’d say, “I’ll get that in a while”.

My Grandad the fighter. My Grandad was nothing short of a hero to me, a role model, and when he was brought back to hospital again, the first thing I thought was “it'll be grand, he’ll bounce back again like he always does”. He always took illness in his stride, chest infection after chest infection - he recovered. Diabetes? No problem to him. Cancer? Not a bother. He always refused to give up and always got back up after being knocked down and that’s what I admired most about him.

My Grandad, the goldfish expert. Grandad had goldfish before, Silver, Goldie and Rusty (a lot of thought went into naming them!) Normally, goldfish would have a short life, but not these fellas. I don’t have a clue what he was feeding them, but whatever it was, it worked.

My Grandad, the baker. Grandad always made a lovely soda bread, and with a little bit of butter and a cup of tea, you couldn’t go wrong.

My Grandad, the man who never wanted much. For Christmas, we got him a little hamper with a few toiletries in it and when I asked him if he was happy with his gift, he said “If I got a box of matches from ye two, I’d be delighted!”

My Grandad, the protector. Nana and Grandad had a dog named Clara when they lived in Bartlemy, and when Clara died, Grandad told us she ran away to the circus so we wouldn’t be upset.

My Grandad, the gardener. His garden was always perfect, not a single blade of grass out of place.

My Grandad ,the crow assassin. Dad bought Grandad an Air Soft gun so he could shoot 'the fockin crows’ as he’d say himself, that were trying to get the bird food at the side of the house.

My Grandad, one of the most kind, caring, wise and thoughtful men I have ever come across.

My Grandad, Paddy.

blog comments powered by Disqus