'I know Dad was broken when Mum died, now together they can drive into the sunset' - advocate Fiona O’Leary on losing both parents in the last two weeks

My mum, Una O’Reilly, came from Kiltimagh, Co Mayo, the youngest in a family of eight children. My father, Patrick Pettit, came from Ballygar, Co Galway, the eldest son of four children.

My father worked very hard in London, in bars and mini-cabbing. Dad loved to tell the story of when he drove John Lennon and Yoko Ono to the airport. He loved The Beatles and the Rolling Stones.

My earliest memory of my obsession with music is Dad playing Brown Sugar by the Rolling Stones on our record player. I was around five years old. I remember the vinyl with yellow trim and the big red tongue swirling around and that classic opening riff. I was smitten. I thought the song was about sugar, but I learned later what it really meant.

Dad allowed me to stay up late many nights and we would watch music videos. A favourite was The Beatles, their last gig on the roof. “I’ve got a feeling, a feeling I can’t hide, oh yeah...”

Dad introduced me to many amazing artists and is part of the reason why I became a singer-songwriter. He invested in music and brought us to concerts. Music was our language.

My beautiful mum and her long black hair stole Dad’s heart. Mum worked hard too and loved her job as a telephonist. She once got a call from Paul McCartney. The Beatles and Mum and Dad — it was a real connection between them. They married and started a family and worked hard in London.

​We returned to Ireland in 1981, moving to west Cork. It was hard. Nobody understood my accent and I felt a bit like an alien. But I loved the freedom west Cork allowed me as a child. I could take rides on my bicycle and walks to the beautiful beaches that surrounded us. Very happy memories.

Mum and Dad bought a small hotel in Ballylickey, Bantry, called the Ouvane Falls Inn. It was very much like Fawlty Towers. They built a thriving business that employed many people at a time when work was scarce. It became the place to be if you wanted a céilí.

We served food, wine and song. Mum and Dad were so kind to their customers — many nights they drove home the ones who’d had too many jars.

Mum and Dad welcomed everyone. When the Traveller community was rejected by many other establishments at that time, my parents welcomed them. Everyone was equal. My parents taught me social justice, taught me to treat everyone the same. My activism fighting racism and injustice started in my childhood.

Mum fed me poetry, literature, travel, music. Her eclectic tastes, soul, classical, popular. Dusty Springfield, Roy Orbison, Sam Cooke and Hank Williams.

My parents were the “cool parents”. My schoolfriends loved them and my future husband, Tim, became part of our music club. Mum and Dad would take us for spins in the car, playing all the greats on the stereo.

When Don Henley released The Boys of Summer, it became a special song for Dad and me. There was no Spotify or YouTube back then. To record a song from the radio was as hard as catching a salmon sometimes. I’ll never forget the day I came home from school and Dad was frantic, telling me to run and get my tape recorder — the radio had announced they were going to play The Boys of Summer after the advertisements.

I ran to my bedroom, grabbed a blank cassette and ran downstairs. I pressed the record button and waited. We got the whole song, the seagulls, the sadness, everything. We were ecstatic. It became our song.

Sadly, Mum and Dad eventually separated. I married my music club man, Tim. We built a family of five amazing children. Started our band, Trouble In Love, and kept writing and singing. All our children have happily inherited the music bug.

​My activism is strong, I fight many battles: pseudoscience, racism and fascism. Mum and Dad always supported my activism, my music, my magic. Sadness comes to us all at some stage. I’ve had much in my life, but the sadness that fell recently was unimaginable.

My beautiful Mum fell ill and suddenly died on January 26, aged 86. My world shattered; the grief is unbearable.

My father fought cancer and sadly died two-and-a-half weeks after Mum, on February 12. He was 76.

Mum and Dad communicated their love for each other before they died.

My mother was cremated on February 6. It was a beautiful service, with family, friends and her favourite music and poetry. Dad lived abroad when he died, in Portugal. His service will take place on March 2 in Kinsale, Co Cork.

I have lost both my parents together and it’s very hard to understand. Maybe, though, it’s better this way. I know Dad was broken when Mum died, and now together they can drive into the sunset, playing their music.

As the Beatles said, in Abbey Road: “And in the end, The love you take, Is equal to the love you make.”

Forever young, my extraordinary and unique parents, Pat, and Una. We love and miss you, but you live on in us all, always.