Our deepest sympathies to our Chicago Mattimore cousins on the passing of their dad, Richard. He died peacefully at home last night surrounded by the wonderful memories, laughter and love of his family. Sadly, Uncle Dick was the last of his generation. He now joins all his siblings and Mattimore cousins in the corner of Heaven reserved for our big-hearted, good-natured, spirited and loving Irish Mattimore family.

I’m told Uncle Dick really loved having this blog read to him, often reminiscing and adding his own commentary. He also enjoyed his vodka right up until the end (alternated with his Ensure, says cousin Mary).

When I think of my uncle, I remember him sitting at our kitchen table on Willowgrove holding court as it were, reveling in whatever story he was telling. He loved a good philosophical discussion. And he never needed to be asked twice to sing. His beautiful rendition of Danny Boy is something we heard often and will especially remember about him.

Right after our wedding in 1999, my parents stayed in our condo for a few days in the D.C. area while my husband and I were on our honeymoon. When we returned, we found our liquor cabinet was empty along with other evidence of partying. This was so not like my parents. Oddly, we also found a pair of men’s pants someone left behind. When I learned that my Uncle Dick had also stayed there, it explained everything.

To my Chicago cousins, we send all of our love and hugs, and raise our glasses to toast your Dad. We will surely miss him. 

DANNY BOY

Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
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, O Danny boy, I love you so!

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!