My much-loved mother-in law, Pat Conroy, died in her own bed on New Year's Eve. She was surrounded by her husband, six children and their spouses and boyfriends, and by her grandchildren, including two babies not yet a year old.
At her funeral, Father Ruairi O Domhnaill referred to her with affection and respect as a typical Irish mammy. The stories which he told about her evoked loving laughter and recognition, not just from her own family, but from many of the congregation who recognised elements of their own mothers' lives.
Just like my own mother, who is also dead, her family was the core of Pat's life. Both their lives rippled out to touch hundreds of people beyond the family circle. At her funeral a sombre thought crossed my mind. As that generation passes away, we may be witnessing not just their deaths, but the death of that style of mothering, the death of the Irish mammy.
No doubt such a change pleases some. I have no desire to sentimentalise or idealise the lives of earlier generations. In many ways, their roles were taxing of both body and soul. The far greater array of options open to younger women represents progress to a large degree.
Yet it is surely worthy of discussion that full-time child-rearing, which used to be the central and defining role of women, is now likely to become the exception rather than the norm. Such seismic changes cannot take place without repercussions for everyone.
The central thing about both my mother and my husband's mother was not that they did not work outside the home after marriage. Much more important was a set of expectations and beliefs which shaped all their actions.
They considered the ability to make sacrifices, particularly for their children, to be a badge of adulthood. They took the idea of passing on virtues and values to their children very seriously, and their greatest sorrows stemmed from the times when they felt they had failed in that task.
Some readers may already be seething at the implied suggestion that all mothers of that generation were like that, or mothers of this generation do not share those concerns. I am not suggesting for a moment that mothers today do not love their children just as much as their mothers loved them, or that everything which our mothers did was perfect. Some of the changes which have come about in child-rearing are extremely positive.
No, the central point which I am trying to make is that an earlier generation of mothers had support from society for the idea that mothering was a vital role and that a huge amount of time was needed to do the job properly.
Whereas once working outside the home as a mother was frowned upon, which, of course, was very unfair to many women, nowadays there is an unspoken assumption that paid work outside the home is almost always more valuable.
Again it is important not to sentimentalise or idealise. Many elements of child-rearing are repetitive and boring.
How ever, we almost never hear now about how rewarding it is to be the centre of a child's world and to fill a role no one else can.
Another group of readers may be enraged by the complete absence of fathers from what I am writing. It may reassure them that while I have never been a fulltime mother, my husband has been a stay-at-home father for years. I believe that fathers are central and vital to a child's happiness, and that the best situation for a child is to have a mother and father who are committed to each other and to the interests of their children.
Which means that I have also probably offended yet another group of readers, those whose lives do not match that description, but, of course, I accept that they love their children just as passionately.
If such readers could accept that I have no desire to offend or condescend, perhaps we could look at something on which almost everyone agrees. If roles within society are changing in fundamental ways, how do we ensure that the needs of children are given top priority?
Developmental psychology shows that children have huge needs for stability and time from key adults, preferably parents. This is particularly true of children under three, but parents will point out that in some ways the needs of teenagers are even more acute than those of toddlers. How then do we reconcile the fact of these needs with the reality that the one thing which parents have less and less of is time?
This is the key question. If being a mammy in the style of our mothers is becoming more and more rare, with what are we replacing all that time and dedication? With poorly paid temporary labour? With material things bought by guilt-ridden parents?
Charlie McCreevy attended my mother-in-law's funeral. She was a constituent of his, and they were long-time sparring partners who were on opposite sides of many issues. Through those battles, a respect for each other evolved, as well-matched adversaries often do.
Pat's family appreciated some acts of kindness which Charlie did for her, including one particular conversation he may not even remember. Pat had told him that she was hanging up her sword, that she had the energy for no more battles. Charlie told her in robust terms to forget about hanging up her sword, that she had plenty still to give. That conversation meant a lot to her.
The sad reality was that as cancer sapped her more and more, campaigning became impossible or else she would have fought Charlie on individualisation with the same tenacity with which she fought on other issues which she saw as undermining family life.
We need a vision of family and of work which puts children first. Despite some shameful failures in Irish family life of the past, the majority of people still grew up in situations where parents did their best and usually succeeded well in child-rearing, not least because society supported the role of mothers. Today, neither mothers nor fathers have that support. In that context, the death of the Irish mammy is even more serious.