My fathers favourite song which we sang at the gravesite as his coffin was lowered into the ground. My dad requested it be sung at his funeral.
In my dad's final days he repeatedly asked for this hymn to be sung.
As we mark dads 15th anniversary the family felt this song reflected the Father we had, loved and lost.
The Old Man by the Fureys
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JCSaBYY-wQk
Charles (Charlie) Neeson was my father. Born near the Barrack Wall, North Queen Street in Belfast, N. Ireland. He was a man of great strength and knew no fear yet he was caring and compassionate and would go out of his way to help anybody.
My dad was a true Irishman, a patriot, fluent Irish speaker and very knowledable in Irish History. He was interned in 1940's and always believed in a United Ireland.
He was a professional boxer and runner yet a gentleman. A Champion known for his courage, endurance and determination. He was inducted into the 'Cradle of Champions' a prestiqiuos Hall of Fame honour with world title holder Rinty Monaghan. (St. Georges Boxing Hall, Belfast, Northern. Ireland).
He was the 3rd child and eldest son,of 6 children. Around 14 years of age when his mother died of Tuberculosis. Her death hit him very hard as he was very close to her. He had done everything possible for her while she was sick, taking care of her. He used to get the unhatched eggs from the chickens at the butchers where he worked and cook them for her as they were supposed to be very good for the sick. After her death he helped raise his brothers and sisters doing what ever it took to make sure they were cared for and fed. He used to go to the pub on a Friday night to wait for my granda so he could get the weeks rent, food money etc.. from him before it went into the pub.
He married Sally Donnelly January 10 1949 and together they had 16 children, 11 of which survived childhood.
During his life he worked as a Butcher, Baker, Chimney Sweep, Window Cleaner, Wood Cutter and Stick Bundler, anything that brought in extra money. He did what ever it took to raise a large family. He worked at Kilroot Power Station for many years and also worked at the Harland & Wolfe shipyard as an Insulation Engineer when asbestosis was a common material used with inadequate protection. He was Shop Steward of the union. He fought for many of his co-workers to get compensation for Asbestosis related diseases and was the voice for victims of the Shankill Butchers after his younger brother Con was murdered by them. He was passionate about a peaceful resolution to what was known as the 'Troubles' but never shyed away from protecting his family or community.
I remember my father riding his bike to work each day and every Friday coming home with a bunch of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other for my mother. As children we lined up on Friday nights to get our 'pay' and then head off to the ice-cream shop for a treat.
My dad would get us up for school in the mornings to a big pot of porridge and a blazing fire. He took us to the beach on a Sunday and we would hunt for shellfish which our mother would cook when we brought them home.
He was the Biggest 'Recycler' in the world, long before it became fasionable and there are many funny stories we all remember assoicated with my dad's antics.
He was a man of little patience and was always moving on to the next job which earned him the nickname 'Perpetual Motion' from his own father. In later years he would be called the Road Runner as a familiar sight in the early hours of each morning running the lonely roads in Belfast. It was my dad's wish that this nickname and his affiliation with the boxing be part of the epitaph on his headstone.
On 19th February 2009 we received a call saying my father had been found lying in the hall of his home and was suffering from Hypothermia. As the day went on things got worst and it was discovered that his Left leg was ischemic from lying on it. Over the next week our family went through one day at a time, considering all the doctors had to offer in treatment. As infection set in it became apparant that my father would not survive surgery and we had to make the most difficult decision of accepting he would not survive. His children, their spouses, grandchildren, friends, neighbours, priests, nuns and other relatives spent time and watched over him night and day until he finally succumed to his illness on March 3, 2009.
During the time in the hospital we had many wonderful laughs, went down memory lane, sang songs, said prayers, held my father in our arms and had him give off to us in his usual way. Each of us had a special moment with him in those final days and he went to God in Grace from the many Blessings and prayers offered by all.
His sons raised his coffin upon their shoulders and began the journey to St. John's Catholic Church. His coffin draped in the Tricolour and the funeral procession led by a lone piper who played his favourite Irish tunes. His six daughters walked his coffin into the church with Uncle Davey, dad's brother. The church was packed. After the mass dad was carried by family, friends and neighbours to his final resting place to be with our mother. Around his grave we sang his favourite song , A Bunch of Thyme and for my mother we sang the Green Glens of Antrim as the pipes played. As is custom, we each then shovelled dirt on top of his coffin and said our final goodbyes to a man we all loved, a man who was our HERO.
Brother: Con "Quiet Man" Neeson 1927-1975
My fathers favourite song which we sang at the gravesite as his coffin was lowered into the ground. My dad requested it be sung at his funeral.
In my dad's final days he repeatedly asked for this hymn to be sung.
As we mark dads 15th anniversary the family felt this song reflected the Father we had, loved and lost.
The Old Man by the Fureys
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JCSaBYY-wQk
Charles (Charlie) Neeson was my father. Born near the Barrack Wall, North Queen Street in Belfast, N. Ireland. He was a man of great strength and knew no fear yet he was caring and compassionate and would go out of his way to help anybody.
My dad was a true Irishman, a patriot, fluent Irish speaker and very knowledable in Irish History. He was interned in 1940's and always believed in a United Ireland.
He was a professional boxer and runner yet a gentleman. A Champion known for his courage, endurance and determination. He was inducted into the 'Cradle of Champions' a prestiqiuos Hall of Fame honour with world title holder Rinty Monaghan. (St. Georges Boxing Hall, Belfast, Northern. Ireland).
He was the 3rd child and eldest son,of 6 children. Around 14 years of age when his mother died of Tuberculosis. Her death hit him very hard as he was very close to her. He had done everything possible for her while she was sick, taking care of her. He used to get the unhatched eggs from the chickens at the butchers where he worked and cook them for her as they were supposed to be very good for the sick. After her death he helped raise his brothers and sisters doing what ever it took to make sure they were cared for and fed. He used to go to the pub on a Friday night to wait for my granda so he could get the weeks rent, food money etc.. from him before it went into the pub.
He married Sally Donnelly January 10 1949 and together they had 16 children, 11 of which survived childhood.
During his life he worked as a Butcher, Baker, Chimney Sweep, Window Cleaner, Wood Cutter and Stick Bundler, anything that brought in extra money. He did what ever it took to raise a large family. He worked at Kilroot Power Station for many years and also worked at the Harland & Wolfe shipyard as an Insulation Engineer when asbestosis was a common material used with inadequate protection. He was Shop Steward of the union. He fought for many of his co-workers to get compensation for Asbestosis related diseases and was the voice for victims of the Shankill Butchers after his younger brother Con was murdered by them. He was passionate about a peaceful resolution to what was known as the 'Troubles' but never shyed away from protecting his family or community.
I remember my father riding his bike to work each day and every Friday coming home with a bunch of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other for my mother. As children we lined up on Friday nights to get our 'pay' and then head off to the ice-cream shop for a treat.
My dad would get us up for school in the mornings to a big pot of porridge and a blazing fire. He took us to the beach on a Sunday and we would hunt for shellfish which our mother would cook when we brought them home.
He was the Biggest 'Recycler' in the world, long before it became fasionable and there are many funny stories we all remember assoicated with my dad's antics.
He was a man of little patience and was always moving on to the next job which earned him the nickname 'Perpetual Motion' from his own father. In later years he would be called the Road Runner as a familiar sight in the early hours of each morning running the lonely roads in Belfast. It was my dad's wish that this nickname and his affiliation with the boxing be part of the epitaph on his headstone.
On 19th February 2009 we received a call saying my father had been found lying in the hall of his home and was suffering from Hypothermia. As the day went on things got worst and it was discovered that his Left leg was ischemic from lying on it. Over the next week our family went through one day at a time, considering all the doctors had to offer in treatment. As infection set in it became apparant that my father would not survive surgery and we had to make the most difficult decision of accepting he would not survive. His children, their spouses, grandchildren, friends, neighbours, priests, nuns and other relatives spent time and watched over him night and day until he finally succumed to his illness on March 3, 2009.
During the time in the hospital we had many wonderful laughs, went down memory lane, sang songs, said prayers, held my father in our arms and had him give off to us in his usual way. Each of us had a special moment with him in those final days and he went to God in Grace from the many Blessings and prayers offered by all.
His sons raised his coffin upon their shoulders and began the journey to St. John's Catholic Church. His coffin draped in the Tricolour and the funeral procession led by a lone piper who played his favourite Irish tunes. His six daughters walked his coffin into the church with Uncle Davey, dad's brother. The church was packed. After the mass dad was carried by family, friends and neighbours to his final resting place to be with our mother. Around his grave we sang his favourite song , A Bunch of Thyme and for my mother we sang the Green Glens of Antrim as the pipes played. As is custom, we each then shovelled dirt on top of his coffin and said our final goodbyes to a man we all loved, a man who was our HERO.
Brother: Con "Quiet Man" Neeson 1927-1975
Inscription
"Professional Boxer and Road Runner
Gravesite Details
Beautiful Celtic Cross with Claddagh + photographs on headstone
