“And this is the advice they gave me
You must not try to be too pure
You must fly closer to the sea
So I’m walking through the desert
And I am not frightened although it’s hot
I have all that I requested
And I do not want what I haven’t got”
– Sinead O’Connor
My brothers and I travelled to Ratoath last Thursday to attend the funeral of Ciara and Sinead’s Dad. Ciara and Sinead are married to two lifelong friends of ours, Lorcan and Damien. Irish funerals are different these days, the wake is private, the funeral can only be attended by 50 people, so what can you do ? We just went to stand outside the church, to show our support and love for them. You’re not even sure if they’ve seen you, but someone will have and will tell them. That’s all we can do. It’ll mean something. It’ll give some comfort. It allows us to feel that we are doing something.
Yesterday my Soulmate and I stood outside another church, the one with the weird head in a jar in Smithborough. It was a blistering hot day. It was a very different funeral. This wee girl lived for one day. One day. We lined up with friends and neighbours along the road outside the church. The Tydavnet Faith &Light group sang “This little light of mine, I’m going to make it shine” slowly and quietly as the car approached and parked on the road outside the church. A young man got out and opened the back door of the car to let his son out. His son was in no hurry , he wasn’t leaving without his Spider Man. The young Dad then opened the other back door and the young Mum got out carrying the wee white coffin. You could hear an intake of breath from many of us along the road.
They waited at the church gate, Fr.Chester greeting them and entertaining their son, as their families walked past us to join them, singing along quietly with the Faith & Light ladies “Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…” You could hear gentle sobs when the singing stopped and the half coughs of people trying not to cry. Some of the family looked around at us, the people on the roadside, before they entered the church. Smiles and nods of recognition were exchanged. That’s all we can do. It’ll mean something. It’ll give some comfort. It allows us to feel that we are doing something.
Last night I dropped my daughter and her two friends to Aoife’s house. They were talking about Oige, whom they all knew and who is the same age. I called into Gavan Duffy Park, the Monaghan Harps ground on my way home to sign the book of condolences. It was 8.30pm and the large car park was still half full. There were stewards directing traffic so large were the numbers of people that wanted to come together to try and make sense of it all. Oige, had just captained the Monaghan county team to an U-20 Ulster Final victory over Donegal, left the team bus and died in a car crash on the way home. Sometimes there is no sense to be made.
Tomorrow morning we will join thousands of others along the route from Oige’s house through Monaghan town to the Cathedral. Friends, family, teammates, schoolmates, neighbours, people that know the family, and many, many others who just felt that they have to be there.
That’s all we can do. It’ll mean something. It’ll give some comfort. It allows us to feel that we are doing something.
Something that counts.
I hope it does.
I hope to God it does.
Paul
