Rose is my great grandmother. Don't have the date she died but she probably died at the Casheloogary, Homestead. And buried at Frosses.
We know what area she was from but do not know who her parents were or her siblings.
Email from Monica Dignam Balkema who just visited this last June 2009.
Cashelogary is just now a wide spot in an unpaved lane. It seems to consist primarily now of sheep fields but the house from which your father and my grandfather emerged is a poignant ruins at the end of ‘Gallagher's Lane", a name that the current owner a man by the name of Peter seems to continue to use.
Click on photo to enlarge and read more info.
Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
We know what area she was from but do not know who her parents were or her siblings.
Email from Monica Dignam Balkema who just visited this last June 2009.
Cashelogary is just now a wide spot in an unpaved lane. It seems to consist primarily now of sheep fields but the house from which your father and my grandfather emerged is a poignant ruins at the end of ‘Gallagher's Lane", a name that the current owner a man by the name of Peter seems to continue to use.
Click on photo to enlarge and read more info.
Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
Rose is my great grandmother. Don't have the date she died but she probably died at the Casheloogary, Homestead. And buried at Frosses.
We know what area she was from but do not know who her parents were or her siblings.
Email from Monica Dignam Balkema who just visited this last June 2009.
Cashelogary is just now a wide spot in an unpaved lane. It seems to consist primarily now of sheep fields but the house from which your father and my grandfather emerged is a poignant ruins at the end of ‘Gallagher's Lane", a name that the current owner a man by the name of Peter seems to continue to use.
Click on photo to enlarge and read more info.
Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
We know what area she was from but do not know who her parents were or her siblings.
Email from Monica Dignam Balkema who just visited this last June 2009.
Cashelogary is just now a wide spot in an unpaved lane. It seems to consist primarily now of sheep fields but the house from which your father and my grandfather emerged is a poignant ruins at the end of ‘Gallagher's Lane", a name that the current owner a man by the name of Peter seems to continue to use.
Click on photo to enlarge and read more info.
Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
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Erected By James Gallagher Castleogery In Memory of His Parents James & Rose Gallagher Also His Son James
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