Peters, Elizabeth Esther Rourke

Elizabeth Esther Rourke Peters, 78, of Cary, Ill., formerly of Solon, died Friday, Sept. 28, 2012, in a hospice in Buffalo Grove, Ill. Funeral Mass at 10 a.m. Friday, Oct. 5, at St. Mary's Church, Oxford, with Father Ed Dunn officiating. Friends may call beginning at 9 a.m. Friday at the church.

Survivors include her children, Marty (Kym) Peters of Annapolis, Md., Patrick (Mary) Peters of Thatcher, Ariz., Matthew (Kelly) Peters of Plano, Texas, John Stephen Peters of Washington, D.C., Michala (Jim) O'Brien of Highland Park, Ill., and Mary Catherine (Bill) Schultz of Cary, Ill.; brother, Mike Rourke; and sisters, Dolores (late Tommy) McGillin, Carol (John) Krob, Veronica (Merle) Hoye, Theresa (Jim) Stelk and Sarah (Patrick) O'Reilly.

Also surviving are grandchildren, Annie and Elizabeth Peters, Maiti Peters, Sean and Saoirse O'Brien, Catherin and Jack and Sarah Schultz; sister-in-law, Dorothy Peters; and brothers-in-law, Jim (Nancy) Peters and Bill (Carol) Peters.

She was preceded in death by her husband, John S. Peters; her son, Michael Peters; parents, John and Blanche Rourke; brothers, John and Dick Rourke; and in-laws, Matt and Charlotte Peters.

Esther was born Feb. 15, 1934 and grew up in Oxford, Iowa. She graduated from Ottumwa Heights in Ottumwa and with a teaching degree and taught in Solon. She married John S. Peters in June 1956 and had seven children. She later worked for the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics.

Esther cherished her children, adored her grandchildren and loved to say the rosary. She will be missed by her family and friends, including many nieces and nephews.

In lieu of flowers, you may make a donation to St. Mary's Catholic Church, Oxford.

Beannacht (blessing)

On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you.

And when your eyes freeze behind the grey window and the ghost of loss gets in to you,

may a flock of colours, indigo, red, green and azure blue come to awaken in you a meadow of delight

When the canvas frays in the currach of thought and a stain of ocean blackens beneath you,

may there come across the waters a path of yellow moonlight to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours, may the clarity of light be yours, may the fluency of the ocean be yours, may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow wind work theses words of love around you, an invisible cloak to mind your life.

- John O'Donohue

Published in The Gazette Oct. 2, 2012