MARY IMELDA DOHEY, C.V.R.N. September 22, 1933 - June 12, 2017 Mary was the first living recipient of the Cross of Valour Medal for bravery of the most conspicuous courage in circumstances of extreme peril. She saved 200 passengers and crew member's lives in a hijacking of an Air Canada flight on November 12, 1971. When given the opportunity to stay behind with passengers by the hijacker, after she convinced him to let the plane land, she chose to go back up with her crew hoping she may be able to keep him calm and save them. When meeting Mary, you would never know about this prestigious award as she was humble and a woman of great faith in God. She accepted the joys and challenges in her life with equal grace. Mary was the youngest of 14 children and will be particularly missed by her niece Nora O'Rourke and her dear friend Judy. A very special thanks to all the staff at Dorothy Ley Hospice who filled Mary's last days with compassion and wonderful respect for her fierce independence. A celebration of Mary's life will be held from 1:00 - 3:00 p.m., on Sunday, June 25th on the main floor at 350 Princess Royal Drive, Mississauga, ON L5B 4N1. 

and the sun has set on me,

I want no rites in a gloom filled room,

why cry for a soul set free.

Miss me a little--but not too long,

and not with your head bowed low,

Remember the love that we once shared,

miss me--but let me go.

For this is a journey that we all must take,

and each must go alone.

It's all a part of the Master's plan,

a step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick of heart,

go to the friends we know.

And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,

miss me--but let me go."

This poem is something that Mary lived by. She could recite the whole poem by memory:

"If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!"