Peg of Somerville

mar 21 - Written by Heather f.

20 years ago today on 3/21/2003 my mother, Margaret Mary Brady (nee Byrne) passed away suddenly yet peacefully in her sleep from what was assumed to be a heart attack. She was 58 years old. I wanted to take a moment to do what I couldn’t do 20 years ago, which is to write about her life.

Special shout-out to Barbara Gorski who worked at the Somerville Journal at the time and was able to create a beautiful obituary for us. 

Margaret Mary Brady

Margaret Mary Brady (nee Byrne)
9/18/44 - 3/21/03

Family & Friends

Margaret, Peggy, Peg, MAAA, Mum or Pegasaurus (what I called her) was a life-long resident of Union Square, Somerville, Massachusetts. She was born to Michael and Martha Byrne of Harold Street who came to Somerville from Newfoundland, Canada. Michael was a fisherman. His sister Marguerite described him as jolly. She once told me a story about when she first came to the U.S. They were 21 years apart in age and Michael had already been here for years. One day he took Marguerite on the train to Boston as she had an interview at John Hancock. Once there he said “now find your own way home” and left her there. This was not meant to be mean but to teach her how to survive in her new city. She noted he had a beer waiting for her when she got home. This story struck me because it said a lot about how my sister’s and I grew up. But more about that later.

Martha, Peg and Michael

Martha was a homemaker and was described as quiet and kind. And I believe it because if we learned anything from the story of “Come from Away” it’s that people from Newfoundland are nice. My Mum had 3 siblings: sister Pauline Marchant, brother James (Jimmy) Byrne and sister Barbara Bernis. Plus her siblings by marriage Edward Bernis and Elaine Byrne. Pauline, Jimmy and Elaine have since also passed, all far too young.

She was extremely close to her siblings, visiting them frequently. Summer’s at Jimmy and Elaine’s pool, sister getaways and lots of drop-ins to Barbara and Eddie’s who lived .5 miles away from us. They were some of the few people she talked to on the phone. Obviously only giving one word answers because she hated the phone.

The Byrne’s

She married my father William George Brady in 1967. He was handsome, funny and had a sharp wit. He came from a large family of 11 kids. My Dad’s sister Janet always says Mum WAS a Brady sister because she fit right in. She even looked like a Brady. I’m not even going to attempt to get the order right but Peggy, Sonny, Jimmy, Janice, Niecie, Pat, Barbara, Brenda, Danny, Michael and their partners became her family too. Michael, Jimmy and my Dad have passed. All way too young, especially Michael who was killed in Vietnam at age 19. The Brady’s had epic cookouts that were often the highlight of my childhood. I could go on and on about my Dad but he often stole the spotlight and this is about Mum. I’ll tell his story in 2024 on his 20th anniversary.

When Billy met Peggy

Mum was amazing at keeping us close with her and my Dad’s families. We went to both sides on all Holidays which I always loved because I got to see all of my cousins. We would often visit my Grandma (my Dad’s mother) Marie Brady at her home on Highland Ave or at work at the Somerville Housing Authority. At first glance you wouldn’t think my mom would be the type to cultivate and keep close relationships as she appeared reserved but she really did. She kept in touch with a lot of friends and family. Which I recognize is quite the feat as an adult myself now.

The Brady’s

My oldest sister Robin Brady was born in 1968. Middle sister Dawn Weed in 1972 and “clearly an accident” me (Heather Fitzpatrick) in 1978. A product of the Blizzard of ‘78 (I realized this when I was working on a school project, the blizzard was February of ‘78 and I was born December of ‘78, the math checks out). Somewhere in there she had 2 more children. A girl and a boy. One stillborn and one that only lived for a day. We know their names but we aren’t sure where they are buried. My Mum didn’t talk about it.

In between Robin and Dawn my parents bought the house at 1 Lawson Terrace. A “street” which is really a 2nd row of houses on Putnam Street. Needless to say no one could ever find our house by address alone. We had to add “behind the lions” as a direction point because the Donato’s house in front of ours was marked by 2 stone lions. Our house was about 1,100 sq. ft and rumor has it it still had gas lanterns hanging in it when they moved in. But it did have a driveway, which was pretty sweet for Somerville. 

Lawson Terrace and its people

My Mum was the dry-witted Aunt to a bevy of nieces and nephews from both sides. The anxiety of naming them all and possibly forgetting someone is too much for me to handle today. But below are some pictures. When we were kids she made sure we saw them often. 

Cousin sampler. This is definitely not everyone.

I can’t forget Aunt Janie and Uncle Louie. They were the closest thing I had to maternal grandparents. We visited them often until they passed away. They were super sweet. Louie was a talented painter and Janie was the aunt who who did special things for my Mum and her siblings when they were little.  

Uncle Louie and Aunt Janie

Adulting

My Mum’s adult life was often hard. But for every heavy bit there was a good bit. Humor was always a coping mechanism we had on demand. My Dad was a functioning alcoholic. I say that not to crap on his memory but as a fact in my Mum’s life. It wasn’t a secret. My Dad was a good Dad. Really fun, caring and he worked hard as a Machinist at Raytheon. He didn’t miss any of my basketball games. He even tolerated the SYL game’s which were pathetic. But like all humans he was complicated. He didn’t drink all the time but when he did he drank a lot. My Mum did her best to steer us clear from it and tried to get him help. And he often tried to stop as well. But this was something she frequently dealt with until he finally quit in the late 90’s.  

Us kids didn’t help with her stress either. I’ll pick on myself so as to not piss off my Sisters. Not that I did it on purpose but I had a lot of issues as a little kid. I am dyslexic and although I don’t know if I was formally diagnosed I am pretty sure I have ADHD. I was highly emotional, required a lot of extra help in and out of school and my Mum worked hard to get me through it. Really hard. Extra reading, extra homework, and she always made me do school work during the summer. In hindsight she did everything right. Working through those issues requires repetition and I was able to falter through the rest of school with mostly passing to occasionally awesome grades. Through all that she encouraged art and sports because that’s what I was good at. And I know she did the same with my sisters. She pushed them in the direction of what they were good at. Robin, naturally smart and probably the hardest worker I have ever met. And Dawn, an excellent student who excelled at college and is naturally kind. We all got into trouble as teens. Mostly drinking shenanigans which I am sure in hindsight worried her immensely. One time I came home drunk and was clearly going to be sick so she threw a bucket into my room and said “I hope you learned your lesson.” I did not in fact learn my lesson. I’m just saying, we could have given her more of a break.  

Money was always low or non-existent. Robin tells me by the time I was a kid things were better which I can’t imagine because I remember not having walls for a while. But we had a house, food, at least one working car, washer and dryer and eventually a dishwasher. If one of them broke we didn’t have them for a while but eventually they would be fixed. My parents managed to take us on regular vacations, mostly in New England. We went to Disney a few times. But day-to-day “extras” didn’t happen. There was never any money for that. By 16 my Mum had enforced that I pay my own portion of the car insurance, pay for my own cheer uniforms and anything else I wanted or needed (I very much appreciate the life lessons now). One car we owned as a second car was one my mom bought from a neighbor for $50. It was a giant old clunker that we coined “The Bomb”. Any “new car” my Mum got in my lifetime she bought at auction. They were always former rentals that only had an AM/FM radio. No tape player. She never splurged on herself, ever. I will forever associate MAGIC 106.7’s David Allan Boucher with my Mum’s Maroon Toyota Corolla. 

Mum was still best friends with her St. Joseph’s High School crew. They named themselves “Club” which was spawned from monthly get-togethers they developed in the days when their kids were little and they couldn’t afford to go out. Over the years we were constantly visiting them. Anne’s for tea, sitting with Maddy and her Mom, Rita's for a haircut and a chat. All the girls at Mary’s Irish bakery in Melrose Center “Breads ‘n Bits of Ireland” for St. Paddy’s Day. Anne, Maddie, Mary, Maureen, Pat, Joey, Rita and Leslie. I know there were a few others over the years but that was the core group. I can still hear their cackling laughs. They were always laughing. The last time “Club” met at our house was December 2002 and that’s where one of the only pictures I have of myself and my Mum was taken. She suggested it, which had never ever happened before. 

“Club” and yes they had a professional picture taken together. I love it.

She had friends from all aspects of her life. Pat and Leo Thomas our neighbors, drove me to school for a time and were always letting me hang out at their house with their son Lee. Pat was lovely and my Mum and her seemed to always be there for each other. The City Club crew who were originally my Dad’s friends but definitely became my Mum’s as well. There are way too many of them to mention but they were a fun bunch that also included some of my Dad’s family. Maryellen Ford who was not only a work friend but part of the City Club crew. And Gertrude, who my mom knew from Bradlees. I wish I could remember her last name. And then there were our friends and their parents. Also way too many to mention. She was always in contact with the parents, coordinating our stuff and socializing. Our friends were always welcome to sleepover.

I’m sure there are more people that I am forgetting or didn’t even know about.

Peg As She Was

Her friends and family always say she “told it how it was”. She talked but wasn’t overly chatty. She had a very dry humor and wit. She loved her sayings. If I bought something she thought I didn’t need she would say “Heather, you don’t have a pot to piss in”. She would say “he’s half in the bag” to describe someone who was tipsy. 

She was a voracious reader with her favorite author being Stephen King. I think she read all of his books that were released by 2004. She and Uncle Eddie used to trade books. And when we went on vacation she would read 4-6 books in one week. When I picture her it’s often with a book in her hand.  

She loved TV and movies. Thrillers and true crime were her favorite genres (duh). A trait her daughters have inherited. She religiously went to West Coast video on Somerville Ave and then to City Video in Porter Square to get the most recent releases. Literally one right after the other. She rented everything and anything. Even the store worker’s indie picks. She would watch them at night and while she did chores. I chuckled one day realizing I do that same thing. I fold laundry in the living room while watching a movie. At one point Dawn’s and my old manager from The Coop, Joe Sicari, was the manager at City Video. I would notoriously rent videos on my Mum’s account and forget to return them and accrue late fees. Sometimes Joe would tell me “your mom called and said I can’t rent to you.” And I would be like “Joe, you know me.” He wouldn’t budge. He knew she did not mess around and was obviously his best customer. 

She often went to the theatre with us and her sisters and loved musicals. Les Misérables, Miss Saigon, Rent and The Phantom of the Opera were some of her favorites. Sometimes I get sad that she never saw Hamilton. She would have loved it. When Kenny Lonergan was putting on “Jesus Christ Superstar” at Somerville High, I don’t think we missed a show. Dawn’s son Brady is a talented singer and theatre performer. We think it’s because of Mum’s love of it. Like she willed it into his DNA. 

She was very stylish. She could really bring it when she had an event. She would plan her look months in advance. Scrounging her money and using layaway to ensure she would have all the pieces in time. She taught me the art of going to T.J.Maxx with $30 and coming out with a full outfit. She could sew and didn’t throw things away if they were falling apart. I remember her hemming my Dad’s Wrangler jeans because his legs were so short. When Dawn and Robin were little she made some of their clothes. She could also draw and loved crafting. She hand made all of our pink and blue Christmas tree ornaments (you read that right, pink and blue Christmas ornaments). And in the 70’s, to cover up our crappy walls she painted a mural to mask the cracks. 

Mum mastered the art of quietly helping others. She didn’t announce it. There are things she did that we didn’t learn about until after she died. Over the years she was always giving kids rides home when she picked me up from activities. If she saw them walking she insisted they hop in. Some became regular passengers. She always insisted us kids be fair. I had to invite all the kids in my class to my birthday party, not just the ones I liked. She didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. At one of my sleepovers, a particularly shy girl hung out in the kitchen with my Mum. Normally, she went upstairs during such events but stayed there to keep that girl company. At her wake, one of her co-workers told us our Mum would come in with bags of our clothes we were getting rid of for him because he had daughters too. Younger than us. And his girls would flip over them. He teared up as he told us how much he appreciated it. Robin in particular had a lot of great clothes. If any of us Brady girls had a $5 bill we were head first in the racks of the Urban Outfitter’s clearance basement. 

She instilled in us kid’s a responsibility and work ethic that is really extraordinary. We had to go to driving school, we had to get a job at 15, we had to get our license at 16, we had to pay for things, we had to work towards something and have a plan for life. If we were working towards something, she absolutely helped us get there. She herself worked a ton. Too much. She worked at the Shawmut Bank in Union Square for a while before taking the Post Office exam and becoming a Clerk at the Somerville Post Office (also in Union Square). She worked in an area called “The Cage” and handled all the certified mail. She took all the overtime she could get and during the Holidays worked the window. I went to St. Joseph’s for grammar school (like she did) which was pretty close to the P.O. I would swing by on Wednesdays for pizza money. She always came to the window with a suspicious “yessss?”  because she knew what I was there for. She would give it to me if she had it but not without a lecture. $2 got you a slice and a Coke at Mama Gina’s. 

Our Holidays were awesome. As I mentioned we never had money but in hindsight I realize it was because she was saving it for the important stuff. She participated in “Christmas Club'' (iykyk) every year so that she had a chunk of cash to buy Christmas gifts for us. Some of the gifts had to be practical of course. I never just got a coat because I needed it, I had to wait until Christmas. And she made the best Easter baskets that she gave us up until the year she died. She would even ship Dawn hers after she moved to California. Her legacy lives on at our family Easters as she started the tradition of ordering Chinese food. She is also immortalized by a hilarious incident one Easter perpetrated by her that we quote to this day. But I won’t mention it because she'd be embarrassed. You had to be there.

I was always amazed at how her brain worked. Every Wednesday she would go to DeMoulas/Market Basket and get “the order” as she called it (grocery shopping). She could add up the items as she put them on the belt, including tax to figure out the exact total. Speaking of taxes she did all of ours. And she loved technology and was an early adopter of online banking, trading stocks and booking travel in the late 90s/early 2000s. She was the first person to ever text me. All of this being pretty cool considering she was a Boomer.

My Mum was extremely open-minded. She was a Democrat who voted for people and laws that improved the lives of others and taught us to do the same. As a kid she brought me to see the AIDs quilt when it came to Tufts University. She talked about how it was ok to touch people who had AIDs. This was at a time when people thought you could contract the disease by simply touching someone who had it.   

On Sundays she would cook. Her specialties were lasagna, beef stew and chicken soup. Things we could eat over and over again for dinner throughout the week. If she didn’t prepare something on Sunday she would cook every night. We grilled a lot in the summer. And if one of us wasn’t home for dinner, she made us a plate and left it in the fridge. She never missed a deadline for school or any of our activities. Which I am super impressed about now as a parent myself. 

Mum loved animals, particularly cats. She also loved apples, symbolically. She had a glass apple collection on display in our living room and after she died the apple became our symbol for her. To this day people give my sisters and I things with apples on them.   

I absolutely can’t talk about my Mum without talking about her fight to help my Dad. Long story short he became sick in his 50’s with what they simply called early-onset Dementia. It had many names over the years but we never had a real diagnosis until she pushed for one. She took him to appointment after appointment. She got him in with the best Neurologist at MGH. She fought to get him on disability when he couldn’t work anymore. She made him large subs to eat when his motor skills were going because sub rolls were one of the few things he could hold. She even let him destroy the house because “it gave him something to do''. In the early years his Dementia affected his memory, speech and motor skills of course but the type of Dementia he had (Lewy Body Dementia) also made him hallucinate and do bizarre things. One day she let him paint the bulkhead on our house because he decided it was something he needed to do. I came home to find him erratically spray painting the side of the house, not even the bulkhead. It was a mess but it gave him a purpose that day. Most people would have stopped him but she didn’t. She let him not be frustrated and scared for a moment. He was sick for about 8 years before she passed and she took care of him for all of those years alone. We knew he was sick of course but she sent all of us away. She told me we needed to live our lives. All of this became wildly ironic when she died suddenly and before him. He declined rapidly after that and died a year and a half to the day after she did.    

She got to meet 2 of her 5 grandchildren, Robin’s boys, Alex and Sammy. Mum was instrumental in their early lives while saying things like “I raised my kids” as if to insinuate she wasn’t going to help but then would help. She loved them. Several years after my Dad died, the boys lost their father John to Cancer. The amount of loss those kids endured at such young ages has always astounded me.   

Dawn and her husband Mike have 2 boys as well, Brady and Eben. Brady, as I mentioned earlier, is a talented actor and singer at the ripe old age of 16. Eben, 14, has all the best qualities of my Dad. He looks like him and has his impossibly quick wit. Mike was there for the end of my Dad’s life and was an amazing help. At one point he was the only one of us who could get my Dad to do anything.

My husband John and I have her only granddaughter, Gilda, 6. Mum would probably tell me she is spoiled and she is. I see her in Gilda all the time. And she’d love John. Because everyone does.  

When my Mum passed she had a lot of positive things going on. More than ever. It was almost as if her life had finally evened out. My Dad was getting worse but they had a diagnosis, proper medication and they had figured out how to live and make the best of the time they had. It was at least less chaotic. She finally had time to take care of herself. She had lost 100 lbs and had Lasik eye surgery. We had a trip planned to California to visit Dawn. She was making great money at the P.O. She was having the front porch rebuilt. She had plans to get a new car that year. One with a proper stereo. She had started going back to church and visiting her friends and sisters again. All of us were out of the house and out of her hair. She could finally breathe. 

Some might see the fact that she was looking forward to doing so much but never actually got to do any of it as depressing but I don't. She died knowing things were ok and happy things were planned. She died in her sleep and as my Aunt Pauline put it “never knew what hit her”. Which honestly is the way to go if you ask me. And I know my Mum, like all of us she was afraid of dying. So that part to me is a blessing. She didn’t have to see my Dad get really sick and pass. She deserved not to see him that way, she had done enough. Of course if I had my choice we would still have her. 58 is too young to die. But I have always recognized my sisters and I had a good mother and were lucky to have her for as long as we did. And I can’t be mad at that.  

The last time I saw my Mum it was the Sunday before she died. I was at her house doing laundry. I was taking a life drawing class at Mass Art at the time and I was drawing my Dad as he sat on the couch. Randomly my Mum came into the living room and asked me to draw her. That was not like her. She sat in the rocking chair across from me and I drew her. I was practicing doing quick sketches so none of them are any good but because I was studying her face to draw her I still have this crystal clear picture of her in that moment even 20 years later. Slowly rocking back and forth on the rocking chair “resting her eyes” as she always said. 

The last thing she said to me was “don’t overload the washing machine”. Which was absolutely an on-brand thing for her to say. We couldn’t have ended on a mushy note. That wouldn’t have been us.

We miss you, Pegasaurus.