Dear Maria,

THIS letter is long overdue. You were the second eldest of our family of 12. I was the third youngest. Until I was seven or eight, I had health problems but you, being a nurse at the time, looked after me any time you could. It is only now, in my 70s, that I realise the different ways you helped my parents. I refused to eat or drink but you found something that was good for me and which I liked — malt.

It was not available in our small village but you got it in the city and travelled by bus to deliver it as you were not a car owner. My late mother told me you saved my life.

As I was growing up, I was shy and bashful. I remember you bringing me by the hand visiting relations, neighbours and friends. During these visits, you encouraged me to perform either dancing or singing and praising me for the great effort I made.

When you got married, I was heartbroken but your kind late husband made sure you visited me in boarding school 20 miles from your home. Thank you, too, for all the goodies you brought me.

The year of my Leaving Cert I fell ill again, this time with severe headaches and sinusitis. You asked the nuns to release me for a week and boy did you care for me — staying up at night dosing me, pleading with me to inhale some medication and making me comfortable. I often refer to that episode, but you thought it was your duty!

Shortly after that, you had a traumatic experience in your own family. Cancer took your beautiful son away from you at age three and your 10-year-old son was killed by a lorry on his way home to you for lunch. Your strength and patience were tried and tested, but you dealt with that by your strong faith.

When I got married and our four children came along, you were always available to care for them so that we could have a break. Each one of them talks about the fun you had together and how much they were loved. You did not want any thanks then but I do so now.

Lastly you remember me lying low due to a bout of shingles. As soon as you got the news you “hopped” on the bus and travelled for five hours to see me and nurse me back to health. I will never forget your kindness. My dearest wish now is, that you are pain-free today.

On numerous occasions I try and thank you for being there for me and for others, but you don’t want to hear. I never wrote it in a letter to you but the Sunday Independent has given me that opportunity now. I do hope you’ll read every word that has come from the pit of my stomach. Please go on and read it in Galway while I read it here in Kerry.

Thank you, thank you Maria. Slainte mhaith. Name and address with the Editor