Chicagoans lost a friend this Thanksgiving. She was buried on Monday, and left a legacy of goodwill, courage and grace in a city filled with plantings where cement once grew, with a renewed center for culture inside the forgotten walls of a magnificent library that will likely soon carry her name. There are the programs for disadvantaged children, an appreciation for the arts that brought much to the City of Chicago and a respect for her husband’s call to service as mayor – as long as it wasn’t on Sunday.
Chicago and its surrounding areas lost a friend in Maggie Daley’s passing.
I was only able to watch a small part of the telecast this morning. The procession leaving the Chicago Cultural Center slowly motored through the streets of Chicago to Old St. Pat’s Church, one of the few buildings which survived the Great Chicago Fire. Family arrived, then the Shannon Rovers, piping the hearse to the church.
I watched as the coffin was carried up the steps of Old St. Pat’s and the bagpipes played. It took me a few moments to recognize the song. It brought me to tears, that old Irish tune, Maggie. Between sobs I thought, how fitting. How fitting, indeed.
Rest in peace, Maggie Daley. Rest in peace.