REFLECTS ON DIFFICULT WEEK SEEING OLD FRIENDS LAID TO REST
On a Saturday morning just over a week ago I rose early to link into the Requiem Mass from St. Colmcille’s Church in Belfast for a friend who had died a few days previously.
It was, as I reflected to mutual friends afterwards, one of the most depressing hours of my life.
There, in an empty church, with no remains on view, nor indeed family members, the priest who didn’t know the deceased, never spoke to the man, did a more than creditable job in delivering his eulogy.
An hour after the Mass concluded, mourners were invited to tune into the service beamed live from O’Kane’s funeral home in the city.
This too was equally dispiriting, with just five immediate family members present.
Throughout both services my mind kept retreating to the carefree days we shared as Leaving Cert students in the De La Salle College and progressing all the way through half a century of shared friendship.
Days later I stood outside the Argus office with current and former members of the staff as we paid our final tribute to a valued colleague and friend, Jack McQuillan, the author and historian.
There, on the almost empty street, the cortege stopped momentarily as the few puzzled pedestrians looked on. The silence was eerie.
Both men, who died from non COVID related illnesses, had lived long and fulfilled lives, distinguished in their own communities, loved and revered by their families, for both had made worthy contributions to society.
Lives to be celebrated, when stories could be re-kindled with friends of the joy and relief in weeks after the Leaving Cert led a chaotic cycling trip to camping on Bray head.
So too was the opportunity lost to recall the gentle, mannerisms and calm of Jack McQuillan that, at times, seemed at odds with the hectic pace of the newsroom we shared.
This cruel, heartless disease, Covid-19, has stolen a most cherished natural impulse from our lives, the need to mourn, to share, to reminisce, to console one another.
Not only has COVID -19 deprived us of our freedom in life, but our dignity in death.
Now our condolences to family must be shared with the world by way of a line on RIP.
It’s not the Irish way, and while children of the deceased understand, they are deprived forever of the comfort of stories or perhaps hidden acts of kindness by the parents that they were reluctant to shared with their children when they were alive.
NOT ONLY HAS COVID -19 DEPRIVED US OF OUR FREEDOM IN LIFE, BUT OUR DIGNITY IN DEATH
Of course the promise remains that a life taken during lockdown will be celebrated properly when all this is over.
Will it ?
It’s like the fear that has replaced hope in our lives, invaded our thoughts and is becoming more difficult to eradicate.
Will we ever get back to normal, and what will normal be like in the future ?.
Will transport restrictions, imposed by social distancing, curtail numbers and opportunities therefore driving up fares ?.
Will the awful fear of not travelling too far from home because no public toilet may be available act as handcuffs in our lives ?.
Will the prospect of staggered times for school attendances take away the valued ritual of a shared family meal ?.
Will Oriel Park never again throb to the sound of a full house on a big European night ?.
Will there ever come the day again when we don’t have to queue to get chops for dinner ?
Will the prospect of having to book a seat in your local pub destroy forever the unique atmosphere that makes an Irish pub.
No wonder, after what seems like an interminable time we’re all starting to feel a little depressed.
Even the constant reminder that “we’re all in this together” is starting to wear a little thin.
No longer does it make us feel warm, fuzzy, united.
Two problems, it’s not true and, worse, it’s constantly propagated by those in control.
The hard fact this together.
We, the elderly, are most susceptible to the coronavirus, and the most likely to die if stricken with it, as the latest WHO figures have revealed that 85% of coronavirus deaths are people aged 65 and over.
Yet governments who trumpet their concerns for the safety of all, never acknowledge that the cost of safety is being borne by the low paid workers dumped out of their jobs especially in the in the hospitality and service sectors, who would gladly trade some of the imposed safety for a weekly pay cheque.
Consider too those whose education and subsequent career prospects are severely hampered by the closure of schools and colleges, and who have to listen to politicians who tell them that the shortfall in their education is that we’re not in is less of a threat to their careers than the possible spread of the infection to a few children.
We’re therefore definitely not in this together, but would we swop places, the young and the old ?
Interestingly this point has provoked a letter writer to the Irish Independent who wished he could live his life backwards, no exams, free love (‘Normal People’) and no Santa Ponsa - what stress, he asked, when in his day, every desire carried a health warning and the threat of being burned in hell for all eternity.
Would the young change places with those in the most vulnerable sector ?
Would the elderly be willing to exchange the security of their pensions and mortgage free homes for the debt, uncertainty and perhaps a decade of austerity that will be the legacy of COVID-19 ?.
Probably not.
No, we’re not in this together, but we’re all united in the wish that it would end - and soon.