(Photo- My sister Cathy and I with Aunt Peggy Buckley)We've just returned from a very full, very meaningful time up north. My wife's brother Tom had a daughter getting married (yikes!) the day after our Diocesan Convention. We were not going to miss the wedding. After some consideration we figured, so long as we were up north, we would go to General Theological Seminary in NYC to visit one of our seminarians and we would also squeeze some time in to see the remaining two survivors of our parent's generation. Both are named Peggy.
I'm writing today about Peggy Buckley. She was born Margaret Healy in 1925, second daughter of an Irishman named James and his wife Violet Thackerer. She is my late mother's younger sister and I write to honor her and to thank God for the opportunity to see her once more.
Peggy Healy was appointed chaperon at the time when my parents were dating. My grandfather's well-intended plans backfired in August of 1940 when Peggy accompanied my mother and father to their runaway wedding in Maryland. She served as maid of honor and I suppose there was a lot of 'splainin' to do when they all got home.
From that time forward Peggy has been the consummate accompanist. Long before I had a memory, she made Baptismal promises on my behalf at Our Lady of Victory Church in West Philadelphia. When cars were rare, my mother dragged my sister and me from our house to hers so my mother and she could visit. They spoke every day on the phone. When I graduated high school and college I could look out and see her looking back. The family joked about my mother's obervation that almost anyone one could refer to "lived out back of Aunt Peggy's house". We reasoned that, when the doors of a balcony swung open at the Vatican, the Pope stepped out to bless all the people who lived behind Aunt Peggy's house.
Aunt Peggy now lives a diminished life, the victim of advanced age. She recieves excellent care and her caregivers comment that she must have been a very kind person. My wife, my sister and I made the one-hour drive from Delaware County, PA to Lancaster County for what will likely be a last visit. Words are not needed-- being there and feeling profound love for one whose witness is so self-evident makes speech seem pale.
I suppose we all have an Aunt Peggy, one whose life teaches that faithful being, faithful remaining, is its own vocation and its own reward.
