My dear Uncle Bill is gone.

It wasn’t a surprise. Bill was 93 and had been in extended care for 18 months or so. But it still hurts like hell.

Bill was an old-fashioned family man. As a young fellow, he permitted his mother and future mother-in-law (my Grandma Cassidy) to fix him up with a stunning redhead.

“Oh, boy. Those legs,” he remembered decades later, from his bed in The Guilford House. His walk was no longer steady, but the twinkle in his eye was as bright as ever.

And he still loved her like crazy.

Bill and my mom’s sister, Bunny, married on September 13, 1958.

Bill O’Brien grew up in New Haven, Connecticut, and went to school at Saint Mary Academy. He served in the Navy and made his living as a banker. He loved baseball and was even scouted by the Saint Louis Cardinals while playing on a Navy team. Later, he took up golf and never looked back.

As a little girl, I remember how tall my Uncle Bill loomed. But he wasn’t scary. His warm smile and ready chuckle made him approachable. And his Irish knack for the telling of a tale made him downright cuddly. (I was too shy for anything more than a quick hug hello and goodbye, though. Plus I was too busy playing with my O’Brien cousins, Suzie and Beth, in their incredible toy room.)

Gary only got to meet Bill a few years ago, when we visited him at The Guilford House. The two of them really hit it off, and regaled each other with stories.

“I love you guys!” Bill O’Brien hollered after us as we left.

We looked forward to the next time.

But then the heavy curtain of covid fell. No more visits. Confusing times, as I texted cousin Beth advice from our new daughter-in-law, Aubrie, who saw the struggles of the elderly daily at her workplace as loved ones stopped visiting. What a cruel disease.

At one point, Bunny spent a few weeks as a patient at The Guilford House, getting some therapy to strengthen her. Late one night, she heard her husband calling out to her from down the hall. It was heart wrenching.

What could she do?

She sang. Bunny Cassidy O’Brien sang “Danny Boy” to comfort her husband.

Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountainside,

The summer’s gone, and all the roses falling,

It’s you, it’s you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow,

Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow,

It’s I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow,

Oh, Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so!

Bunny is home again, with Beth. The family was able to be together as Bill slipped away last week following a stroke. Bill couldn’t tell any more stories, but he squeezed Bunny’s hand. That told her more than words ever could.

We all need a raucous Irish wake to swap stories about Bill. We need to howl with grief. But for now we’ll have to carry on from a distance, as a small group of family members gathers Saturday to say a prayerful goodbye in person in the same cemetery where we buried my mom just a year ago. Grandma and Grandpa Cassidy are nearby, too.

But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,

If I am dead, as dead I well may be,

Ye’ll come and find the place where I am lying,

And kneel and say an Ave there for me;

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, and

All my grave will warmer, sweeter be,

For you will bend and tell me that you love me,

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!

In lieu of flowers, Bill’s family asks for donations to be made to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital or the Blinded Veteran’s Association.

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