Husband, father, grandfather, brother, businessman, charity and community organizer. Born on June 18th, 1942 in Newmarket-on-Fergus, County Clare, Ireland. Died, August 22nd, 2003 in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario, of liver cancer, aged 61.

There is an old song from County Clare, on Ireland's west coast, called It's A Long Way From Clare To Here. Any Clareman, or woman, worthy of the name, knows the song's sentiment to be true. No matter where natives of Ireland's Banner County roam in this world, the gentle hills of Clare that fade seamlessly into the purple distance, along the gentle Shannon River, forever seem to beckon them home.

In the last moments of Sean's life, there is no doubt that, along with thoughts of his wife, Gretta, his two sons, Kyle & Fergus and two grandchildren, Quinn & Sean Og and of course his three brothers and three sisters in County Clare, he also thought back to his idyllic Irish childhood, his days of hurling and the sweet victories and defeats of his beloved Clare hurling team.

He was a great Irishman and a wonderful human being and, especially to me, a mentor and a friend.

Sean left home with his wife on August 20th, 1967 and immigrated to Canada. In the 35 plus years since he arrived on these shores, he became the living embodiment of the highest dreams and aspirations for any immigrant looking to start a new life in North America. Not only was he successful in this country, in every sense of the word, but also he made Canada all the richer just by his very presence.

At the time of his passing, he was the executive vice president of EDS Canada. Before that, among the many career highlights that undoubtedly dotted his resume, he had established solid business credentials as a senior vice president at the Bank of Nova Scotia and as the president of the American Express Bank of Canada.

But as good as he was with money, it was the wealth of his spirit that really shone through. And it is in the brilliant afterglow of his life, that we who remain find ourselves coming to grips with the reality of life without him. It barely seems possible to contemplate.

The priest who presided over Sean's funeral mass mentioned in his homily that, once a year, businesspeople have an opportunity to go over their books. They can correct what needs changing and see where they are deficient. They can also see what is going right and where they are making a profit or a contribution to the bottom line. With echoes of the priest's sermon to the Catholic businessmen in James Joyce's short story "Grace," the priest observed that, spiritually, there is only one time when our spiritual ledger will be examined - on the Day of Judgment. Thankfully for Sean, his ledgers were clean and balanced, financially and otherwise.

One of the reasons why he balanced out as a decent human being, loved by all who knew him, was due to his charity work.

He was the Chairman of a charity called Matthew 25, which was dedicated to helping educate the street children of Calcutta, India. He also sat as the Chairman of the Campaign for Celtic Studies program at St. Michael's College at the University of Toronto. He had also served as Chairman of the Ireland Fund of Canada, a charity established over 20 years ago by Hilary Weston and Sir Tony O'Reilly. Even in death, his family continues to raise funds for a charity in his name. Mourners at his funeral were directed to donate money to the Sean McNamara Memorial Fund, in lieu of flowers. The funds will go to support the Cancer Centre at the Grand River Hospital in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario.

On a more direct, personal level, I too was lucky enough to be a recipient of his wise counsel and friendship. When I came over from Ireland in 1975, Sean quickly became my guide and mentor in my new homeland. He reminded me enough of life back home so as I wouldn't be too homesick, but helped ground me enough to realize that this was my new home and that I was lucky to be here. He was always like that. He helped a lot of people individually and was very generous with his advice. That would go a long way to explaining why St. Basil's Church in Toronto, on the grounds of St. Michael's College, was full to capacity during his funeral mass.

As his casket was taken down the centre aisle, Eithne Heffernan, the Toronto Irish community's resident songbird, sang out sadly, softly and sweetly, It's A Long Way From Clare To Here. The music continued at the gravesite with other singers and songs like The Fields of Athenry and The Lovely Rose of Clare.

Just as ones life flashes before their eyes in the final moment before death, so too can a single sentence from a song bring back a flood of memories. As The Lovely Rose of Clare was sung, and a bag piper played on a nearby hill at Mount Pleasant Cemetery, I thought back to September of last year, when Sean and I played golf together in our beloved County Clare. At Lahinch and Doonbeg Golf Clubs, we played not just against each other but against the mighty winds sweeping in off the broad Atlantic Ocean as well. We had so much fun. And now I won't be able to spend another wild and windy day on the links with my friend for the repeat game we had promised each other. The brilliant rainbow we witnessed together on the 18th at Doonbeg will be forever in my memory.

But the memories are not all sad. One memory in particular stands out strikingly against the sadness of these past few months.

In September of 1997, Sean and I ventured to Dublin to watch the All-Ireland Hurling final in Croke Park. That day, the Clare team beat County Tipperary by a single point. But that was good enough for us. We Banner boosters made our way all over Dublin's Fair City in celebration. The following day, our revels finally took us to the trendy Westbury Hotel on Grafton Street.

In the midst of the stately dining room, we made our way to the grand piano. I sat myself down and began to play, and Sean began to sing The Lovely Rose of Clare. Needless to say, the Ladies Who Lunch crowd, enjoying what they thought was supposed to be a quiet Monday afternoon tea, did not quite know what to make of these two country lads belting out this old standard.

Soon, the manager, in an obvious fluster at the sight of the two of us breaking the hotel's decorum, ran up to us and told us, politely, to stop.

We agreed to stop, just as soon as we had finished our song. And, true to form, Sean sang every word, every paragraph, with every ounce of his heart, in full-throated song, before we made our way back out on the town.

And though he is no longer with us, the sweet song carries on. But this year Clare's bloom will be a little off. One of its richest petals has fallen away and joined God's garden. Ar dheis De go raibh a anam dhilis.