Monday was November 2, All Souls Day - the day when we remember all those family members, relations, and friends who have died.

As our priest Fr Joe reminded us at 9.30 Mass in Bartlemy, it’s also a day to recall and pray for those who have no-one left to speak their name.

All Souls Day is usually the day I’d visit as many cemeteries as possible to pray at the gravesides of loved ones.

I know, I know, our Christian faith tells us that their souls, spirits or whatever name we choose, are gone, but it is still nice to visit final resting places.

Just to read out loud the names inscribed in stone - and think also of the myriads of others who, for one reason or another, are not chiselled on memorials, gives me a sense of fellowship with past generations.

Many years ago, Mona Tierney penned a lovely poem which she gave to her friend Edel Quinn. Entitled Oh What Is It All When All Is Told?, it’s a quiet reflection on life, death, and hope.

The late Dick Barry - born here in Bartlemy - had a most brilliant speaking voice and always eloquently delivered these lines.

What is all, just passing through,

A cross for me, and a cross for you.

Ours seem heavy while others seem light

But God in the end makes all things right.

He ‘tempers the wind’ with such loving care,

He knows the burden that each can bear.

Then changes life’s gray into heavenly gold.

Ah! That is all when all is told.

Anytime I hear that poem recited, it just stops me in my tracks - it’s so apt for this first week of November, which in olden times was regarded as the ‘Month of the Holy Souls’.

In truth, myself and two friends have spent a lot of time in the old cemetery in Rathcormac over the last year and a half as we try and record fully all the inscriptions on nearly 400 headstones therein.

Bishops, lords, priests, artists, musicians are all buried there. Regardless of title, occupation,........

© Evening Echo