Friday the 17th of
Began like any other day,
We ate the cereal and the toast,
Ran to the door and checked the post,
Who could have said who could have foretold,
The terrible tragedy that was about to unfold.
I remember that morning
Mammy brushed my hair,
Planted a kiss on my cheek
And said 'don't forget your prayer'
I chased out the door as happy as a bee
Not a thing in my secure world troubling me
Around 5.30 that evening we heard the blast
Not knowing my secure world was a thing of the past
Daddy rang to say 'Tell Mammy I'm fine
I'm going to be late, I'll be home before nine'
The traffic was crazy, the place in a state,
That's why we thought Mammy's so late.
By some strange twist of fate, Mammy decided that day
To go into town to collect Daddy on her way,
But her good deed was costly,
Her timing all wrong,
Her life was taken,
God it's hard to be strong.
This poem was
written by Fiona Ryan, in loving memory of her mother, Maureen Shields,
a native of Co. Tipperary, killed by the Talbot Street bomb. Fiona was
only 11 years old when she lost her mother.