Gordon Ward

What a joy it was to wake up early this morning and try to capture Gordon in words...

• A brother to nine, three with us today Ellen, Claire and Phil.
• Uncle to 42.
• An Uncle to a priest, who can give general absolution...

An uncle-in-law, great uncle, friend, as the obituary put it, to a LEGION ... Yet, with all these connections, we each have a very personal history with Gordon.

For my personal history, I'm going to frame my memories today around a somewhat unusual trait to highlight in the deceased--Gordon's accomplishments.

Ever since I was young, I remember Gordon, long-suffering, gritting his teeth and complaining bitterly about having seven sisters bossing him around.

But I also remember that only one could make my Mom, Mary Dolan, laugh, and truly sparkle like Gordon.

I remember Gordon complaining about the hurricane damage to his house and swept his two Irish maids off to sea. (All those losses, of course, that had to be reported to the insurance company.)

I remember Gordon complaining about the Edison Power Plant in Plymouth that sent enough leaking energy to his porch to cook a hamburger--without the grill.

I remember Gordon complaining about the LEGION of relatives descending upon him in Plymouth. But his door was always opened and a bed was always available--no questions asked.

He complained about our rambunctious and noisy youngsters careening all through his house until he restored order with an affectionate and offhanded, "Shut up, Love."

Gordon may have complained about us but we gave it right back to him. Was it one of the Murphy's who asked them to install an 800-number so the LEGION of relatives could check the tide conditions, weather forecast, and menu before we headed to Plymouth?

Certainly, Gordon complained about us all but his affection always showed through as he snapped countless pictures of our "gorgeous" children, invited us to dinner and arranged outings to the Flower Show, Riverdance, and the Christmas Pops.

But least we get too sentimental today, an emotion that Gordon himself would not let us indulge in for long without a jab, let me give just one more example of how pervasive his complaint with all of us was.

This conversation took place with Gordon on an occasion similar to this. We had just buried Gerry Ward at Bourne National Cemetery and I happen to be standing next to HIMSELF. "Wasn't that 20 gun salute so moving?" I committed to him.

Gordon quipped back through gritted teeth. "What a waste of ammunition! If they had only aimed a little lower, they could have wiped out most of my relatives!"

As he complained about us, Gordon teased his way deep, deep, into each of our hearts with a combination of gritty humor, remarkable wit and a no-nonsense love that we'll never see the like of again. A love that spanned all the generations seated here making a great impact on us all--from, Claire, Phil and Eileen to Brandon, Sarah, and Christine.

He complained about us all and he loved each one of us. We all have a personal history with Gordon and we will all miss him...a legend indeed to his LEGION of relatives.

As we say goodbye, I have one last request for Gordon.

"Gordon, could you arrange an 800-number for us so we can find out what the conditions are like up there and when's the best time to arrive? Enjoy the peace and quiet, Gordon, because your LEGION of relatives will be arriving before you know it." the Cosgroves, Murphys, Wards, Dolans, Gallaghers, Keifs, Downings, with our significant (and insignificant) Others.

Believe me; he'll be waiting for us.