Mary Theresa Harrington

In Loving Memory of Mary Theresa Harrington (1938–2025)

Mary Theresa Harrington, 87, passed away peacefully on August 5, 2025, in South Surrey, BC, Canada, surrounded by her children, who held her hands as she took her final breath. In fitting Mary fashion, she left this life on the same day she gave life to her firstborn, James—August 5, 1970. She often spoke of the cycle of life, and her departure on this symbolic day, 55 years later, feels like a poetic tribute to her enduring spirit.

Born May 26, 1938, in Stroud, Gloucestershire, England, to Irish parents Matthew and Bridget Keating, Mary was the eldest of eight children. During World War II the family returned to Emo, County Laois, Ireland, where it was all hands-on deck to keep the household fed, loved, and sheltered. As the eldest, much of that responsibility fell on Mary’s young shoulders, and her strength was forged from generations of grit, faith, song, humor, stubbornness, and a healthy dose of good auld country mischief.

As a girl, she worked on her grandmother’s farm in Cloncannon, then moved to Mullingar as a nanny to care for a family’s children, saving enough money to pursue her true passion: nursing. She studied at the Royal Glasgow Maternity Hospital (AKA Rottenrow) in Scotland, then returned to Ireland to begin her career at the Coombe Hospital in Dublin.

One fateful night at the cozy pub, Duffs Bray, County Wicklow, Mary spotted a dashing man in a blue suit across the bar—John Patrick Harrington. He was on a blind date dining with another woman. But that didn’t matter. Mary was captivated by his cerulean, blue eyes, blonde hair, and magnetic smile. So alluring, she barely noticed her own blind date. In fact, she knew John was stealing furtive glances with her, and instantly felt they had chemistry. He was the one. Unfortunately, John pulled an Irish Goodbye and disappeared into the evening. Gone like the wind. Days later, she saw him again—this time in the maternity ward at the Coombe Hospital where she was working the night shift! This was odd. Rumors swirled that he was gallivanting around while his wife was in labor—until it was revealed he was simply there painting the hospital. The mystery man was single! And the universe had spoken. As the Irish say: “What’s meant for you won’t pass you by.”

In 1970, after they fell madly in love and tied a beautiful knot, John and Mary left Ireland aboard the Russian ship Alexandr Pushkin, sailing to Montreal and then crossing Canada by train with two suitcases and a dream. (No, they were not KGB spy lovers.) They settled in Prince George, BC, where they raised four children—James, John, Siobhain, and Francis—and built a life full of friendship, faith, sport, celebration, and community.

After 17 frosty years in the tundra, they moved to Surrey in the Lower Mainland for sunnier days and the salt air of the Pacific Ocean. Mary was a pillar of her community, deeply involved in the Good Shepherd parish and her vocation in nursing at Surrey Memorial and Peace Arch Hospital. She loved the maternity ward and meeting new mothers and fathers. She found her true calling. After retiring in 2002, she volunteered as a Minister of Holy Communion, bringing the Eucharist to hundreds in hospitals, hospices, and homes. She gave of herself endlessly, always putting others first. And in the end, many of those she served put her first as she lay dying.

She often spoke of the tombstone’s “dash”—the time we have between birth and death—and the importance of living it with purpose and passion. Mary embodied that philosophy. She was a raconteur with a wicked sense of humor, a genealogist at heart, and a seeker of connection. She could meet a stranger and somehow trace a thread back to Ireland, introducing long-lost friends or relatives with uncanny precision. She truly was the real Six Degrees of Mary Harrington.

Her party piece at countless shindigs, weddings, and good auld craics was Danny Boy—sung with a voice that could hush a room, stir hearts, and like a siren lure John to the Coombes Hospital to meet his destiny. It became her signature, a melody that followed her through decades of celebration and connection. In her final hours, that same spirit lingered: the Rosary was whispered with devotion, and Elvis Presley’s baritone voice floated through the room, serenading her with Danny Boy “The pipes are calling.” It was as if heaven itself was gently preparing her passage.

To her children, she often implored: “Show me your friends and I will tell you who you are.” It was more than advice—it was a guiding principle she lived by. And she lived it well, cultivating lifelong friendships that became family.

Some may say that we are born alone and die alone. Mary thought that was nonsense. And on August 5th, she proved it—departing this world with her children at her side, hands entwined, love surrounding her like a warm blanket. Her final moments were a testament to a life lived in connection, devotion, and grace. Seeing her children, together, at her bedside meant the heavens to her. Family was everything. Her mission was done. And she was satisfied and at peace.

Even in her last days, Mary lit up for every visitor. She smiled through pain and medication, making each person feel welcome at her bedside. She remained a mother and nurse to the very end—ensuring her family was safe, warm, and together.

Mary Harrington lived her “dash” with grace, grit, prayer, and boundless love. Her legacy of care, laughter, and connection will ripple through generations.

She is preceded in death by her beloved husband, John Patrick Harrington (2017), and is survived by her children James, John, Siobhain, and Francis. She adored her grandchildren Patrick, Ronan, Cashlin, Ava, Dillon, Rhett, Jude, Arabella, and Brielle. She was proud of her

beautiful daughters-in-law Nicole, Denise, and Candy, and her son-in-law, Rick Coopman. She also leaves behind legendary friends who stood by her to the very end. You’ll hear more about these radiant people in the eulogy!

Mary’s celebration will be held at Good Shepherd on August 21st at 11AM in South Surrey and all are welcome, no matter how many degrees of separation you are from her. (I’m sure she knows you… or somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who knows you!)

A Final Farewell

And when the valley’s hushed and white with snow, Mom, we’ll listen for your voice in the breeze, soft as the lark that sings at break of day.

“It’s I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow— Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so.”

Though you’ve gone when the flowers are dying, your love remains—ever blooming in our hearts.

Mom, you walked this world with grace and quiet strength, a gentle soul whose laughter warmed the room. Now, as the hills echo with the song you loved, we hold your memory like a sacred tune.

“But come ye back when summer's in the meadow…”

We shall meet again…

Onward…