DEPARTED Delia surrounded by her family on her 100th birthday.
Goodbye to Delia Sweeney, witness to a century
LIKE a marathon runner fixed on crossing the finishing line, Delia Sweeney was focussed on reaching her 100th birthday. She hit the century in style in mid-February and around 200 people joined her for the big celebration at the family home in Dalton, Ballyfarna, not far from Knock where a marquee was brought in for the festivities.
No one could possibly have visualised that Delia, who was in such wonderful form that evening, would depart this world within a month. News of her sudden death came as a huge shock to the people of the area and to all who had partied the night away in her honour back in February.
Delia was one of the grand old stock of our part of Mayo. Her journey through life was remarkable, and she lived through some of the greatest changes ever in Irish society.
Delia Devaney was born in Cloonlavish in the parish of Knock on February 18, 1908. Her parents were William Devaney and Nora Campbell, and she was the youngest of six children. Her parents would have known all the visionaries of the Knock Apparition of August 21, 1879. Her father died in 1916, leaving her mother to raise six children aged between eight and 15 years during World War I. Ireland was still under direct British rule in those times.
It was a case of across the river to school in Ballyfarna and helping her mother and brother Patrick (Pake) on the farm when she came home. Three of her sisters, Mary, Margaret and Nora, and her brother John all sailed away from Queenstown to New York.
At the age of 25, she went to England where she joined the Sisters of Charity and was given the name Sr Celest. However, after nine months she decided she didn’t have a vocation and left the order. All of that was a long time ago, and news that Delia had spent almost a year as a nun came as a big surprise to many of us who had no idea that she had entered a convent in her young years.
She returned home for a short spell before returning to Altringham, not far from Manchester, where she worked as a house-keeper for five years. She often looked back with nostalgia and referred to this period as the best five years of her life.
It was 1939, when war clouds hung over Europe, that she returned to her native Mayo. She married Jim Sweeney from her home village of Cloonlavish that year, and they set up home on the farm. They had five children, Margaret, Noreen, Mary, Michael and John. John died shortly after birth.
In 1976, Delia moved to nearby Dalton to assist her daughter Margaret after her husband, Jimmy Costello, died suddenly leaving a young family of three children (Seamus, Mary and Margaret). Her own husband Jim died in 1980.
Delia was blessed with a brilliant memory right up to the end. She could remember poems and songs from her youth with crystal clarity. She loved the old tunes and was known to burst into song with the slightest encouragement.
Her favourite singer was Kevin Prendergast, and when Kevin dropped by to visit her a few days after her 100th birthday, she sang ‘Spancil Hill’ for him while he serenaded her with ‘The Lady We Call Mother’ and a few other old favourites. She loved the more traditional- and country-style shows on Mid West Radio, and was familiar with many of the presenters on the station. And, of course, the week wouldn’t be the same without her copy of ‘Ireland’s Own’.
Delia had a wonderful recall of the people of the locality, and memories of Mary Coleman’s and Niland’s shops were still fresh in her mind. No doubt, she could still picture the ‘lights on the river’ that were such a part of the local culture in days gone by…especially in late November and early December.
Proving that it is never too late to enjoy new experiences, Delia took a wonderful liking to Chinese food, and it became one of her favourite dishes in recent years. It was her youthful outlook and ability to adapt and change that served her so well on her voyage through life.
Interviewed by Gerry Glennon on Mid West Radio on February 18, the day she reached 100, she told listeners how she had got up in the morning and shouted out to her daughter, “Margaret, I’ve made it!” Also fascinating was her recollection of how she almost died at the age of 45. “I washed my feet, prepared to meet my Maker. But my time hadn’t come and I made a full recovery.”
In mid-February, Fr John O’Gorman, who became a great favourite with Delia during his five years in Barnacarroll, visited her. Delia always wanted Fr John to celebrate her funeral Mass, and her wish was granted when he was the chief celebrant at the Mass in Knock Church. He recalled the fun and banter he had with her over the years. “And how are you today, Delia?” “Oh, I’m slack, Father.” But as she moved towards 100, he could see a new sense of determination in her. “I think I’ll make it alright,” she’d say. “You will, of course, Delia,” he’d reply. And she did.
As Fr John led the crowd in the singing of ‘She’s Got The Whole World In Her Hands’ on that joyous night in the marquee back in February, Delia had indeed made that wonderful journey. She had every reason to feel proud…and we had every reason to be proud of Delia too.
I had planned to feature Delia in this week’s interview pages in The Mayo News. I had hoped to speak to her last Monday or Tuesday night after giving her time to get over the birthday celebrations. When I heard the news on the previous Friday that she had died during the night, I could hardly believe it. At the wake on Friday night, family and neighbours shared memories and stories of old times.
Delia was one of our own, one of the kind of people who helps ‘root’ us in the rural culture in which we were reared. We’re a million miles from tinsel town and Hollywood, but we are what we are, and we are proud of our roots. With a sense of sadness, Delia, I’m proud to dedicate this page to you. Slán abhaile.
Delia’s life voyage
The following verses were composed by Delia’s granddaughter, Mags Costello. They were read at the end of the Mass in Knock Church.
In 1908 you were born
Imagine all those years ago
The youngest of a family of six
The hardship that you’d come to know
The First World War came in 1914
When you were just six years old
Not through the war but illness your Dad died
And left your Mother to carry the load
There was no widow’s pension to get
And through the years money was hard come by
So John, Mary, Maggie and Nora packed their bags
And said, let’s give the States a try
Pat stayed at home to look after the farm
And you gave him a helping hand
But your Mother said ‘Delia, I think religion’s for you
I’d like to see you with God’s wedding band’
So you travelled the sea to join the nuns
And for nine months you gave it your best
But it wasn’t for you, your vocation wasn’t true
They said you must leave us, Sister Celest
You worked in Altringham, England
As a housekeeper and parlour maid
You’d regale us with stories of boyfriends and dances
They were five of the best years, you said
1939 saw the Second World War
The green fields of home called you back
Though your marriage to James Sweeney was arranged
Love and happiness it didn’t lack
Your children meant the world to you
You had a family of five
Margaret, Michael, Noreen, Mary
And baby John who didn’t survive
Most of her years were spent in Cloonlavish
Where she was born and married into
But the last thirty two were in Dalton
Where she moved when dad’s time on earth was through
Porridge for breakfast, bacon and cabbage for dinner
Throughout the day nibbling Tayto crisps and emerald sweets
A salad sandwich or Chinese for tea
These were all of her favourite treats
One month ago she was stunned and delighted
As she greeted you all with a smile
You piled into a marquee for her Mass and Party
To help her celebrate her 100th birthday in style
Her funeral requests were simple
A nice coffin and good send off too
And for Fr John O’Gorman to sing Going Home
As we all stand to bid you Adieu.
