OBITUARY: 'Jackie Tynan was a mighty man, with a mighty daughter...'

My grandfather, John “Jackie” Tynan passed away last week at Tipperary University Hospital. He was 84-years-old.

He was laid to rest on Friday in Ardmayle Cemetery.

Jackie was born in 1937 at St Patrick’s Hospital in Cashel.

He was a lorry driver for most of his life and was a very early riser…except on weekends.

He had three things hanging on his wall in his house in Clonoulty that probably best summed him up.

A Sacred Heart, the 1916 Proclamation of Independence and a picture of Commander-in-chief, Michael Collins.

The pictures of the grandchildren, great-grandchildren, the son and daughter, the brothers and sisters, the nephews and nieces, they were all beside him on the mantelpiece next to the chair he sat in.

Jackie endured an upbringing that no man or woman should have to endure.

He loved his country.

But his country failed him. He was let down all his life by the institutions of this State but he still had a great love for his homeland and remained a very spiritual man as well.

He suffered!

But because of his efforts throughout his life, there were many happy families in the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Boherlahan last Friday.

And that’s the legacy of the man, that’s what he leaves behind.

His daughter, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were all at his funeral Mass because he chose to live his life and have a family when others would have given up.

He loved vintage cars, bought and sold plenty of them and crashed many more.

He loved motorbikes as well, the faster the better! He wasn’t too fussy about the cars he drove either, he did at one time own and drive an automatic Nissan Micra.

I never saw any man hate a car more.

He hated it so much he even let me drive it.

It should come as no surprise given the Proclamation on the wall, but he loved guns: replica guns, real guns, any gun really.

But for Jackie, the pinnacle of any weekend, any Sunday afternoon, was a good car boot sale - nothing would excite him more!

Jackie, like most of the men in our family, was afraid of my sister, Jacqueline. Any time he was being contrary or wouldn’t get out of bed, the carers would say: “Do you want Jacqueline to come up here and have a chat with you?”

And that’s all it would take for Jackie to spring out of the bed.

He loved Jacqueline too, and his face would light up when he saw her and she was probably the only person he listened to.

Jacqueline would take up his groceries and medication and some days she would be the only reason he would get up out of bed - he was fond of her.

One thing that you would notice about Jackie was he understood the importance of eating well, he loved his food. He might have a feed of pints and whiskey, but a sandwich or a dinner of some sorts was always important too.

Mary Gleeson in Ballagh always made sure he was fed and that he got home safely as well. There weren’t enough jelly pots in the world for Jackie either, he loved them, that and a good cup of tea.

His favourite place to get a bacon and cabbage dinner around here was in what used to be Ryan’s Daughter (now O’Neill’s) in Cashel and he often treated me to one as well - sometimes against my will.

Jackie had a love of cats - something he shared with his late son, Patrick. Cats just seemed to always appear at his door and he always cared for them.

Some of the cats had one eye, or sometimes no eyes at all or only three legs, but that didn’t matter, the felines still got fed. I was in the room many years ago with Jackie in Waterford University Hospital when he was told that his throat cancer had returned and that he was facing more treatment.

His initial reaction was to wave his hands at the consultant and he said: “No, no, no,” and he asked the doctor to let him be and to let him go home.

But we all knew Jackie to be a fighter and a survivor and it wasn’t long before those instincts kicked in.

He fought the cancer one more time and with a lot of help from his daughter Josephine, he beat the disease for a second time.

Jackie lived for ten more years after that, what a remarkable man he was.

Jackie lived for as long as he did because of his family.

His brother George would cut the grass in Clonoulty and visit regularly with presents and Jackie’s nephews Brandon and Tony - whom he adored.

He was a great brother to Jackie and so were all of the brothers and sisters in the Webster family.

My father, Oliver, was also always on hand to clean gutters and put in a washing machine.

Everyone was there for him but one person was there more than any other.

Jackie’s daughter, Josephine, my mother, was his beating heart.

If anyone wants to know how a daughter - or any child - should care for their father - you need only look at my mother’s devotion to Jackie and all she did.

Mam cared for him out of duty, out of love.

She fought to get him treatments, to get him home care hours. She fought for him every day.

For so many years she did his shopping, got his prescriptions and did all she could to make sure he lived comfortably.
Jackie lived to be 84 years of age because of all my mother did.

He owed his life to her for all the years while he was unwell and he knew it, he loved her so much.

He saw what his daughter was doing for him and he was so grateful, as any father would be.

Mam’s love sustained him and his soul until his body gave up in the early hours of Wednesday, February 2. He was a mighty man, with a mighty daughter!

So long, Jackie! May you rest in peace as you bid farewell to this isle of hope and isle of tears.