ABOUT 10 years ago I was driving to Armagh with my now eldest daughter to collect a takeaway that we had ordered. I remember it was a wet night and Katie, aged seven at the time, out of the blue asked me an unexpected question.
“Daddy, are you afraid of death?”
To say the question, from a seven-year-old, took me by surprise would be an understatement. I was in such a state of shock my first reaction was to repeat her question. I then asked her what had made her ask this question and she referred to a tragic accident which had occurred around that time and included the death of some young teenagers.
To answer her question, I explained that many years previous I had been told two quotes about death that have stuck with me to this day. The first was “Death smiles at us all. Whenever it does, all we can ever do is smile back.”
The second was an old American Indian proverb: “Death walks in parallel to us. Like a fired arrow its path is always straight and never changing. Our paths are ever changing and sometimes our path is brought closer to death, making us more aware of its presence. But most of the time we walk at a distance and are unaware that death walks with us. Someday our paths will cross, what we do until then is up to us.”
Obviously knowing she would not understand the meaning of my answer I deciphered it for her. To answer her question, I told her you first need to understand death itself. It is something we must all face, something that is infinite meaning we do not return from it. For me, it is not death that we fear but more the feeling of not being able to accomplish all our hopes and dreams, not being able to do all of the things we would love to see or do before we do die.
So, I told her: “No, I do not fear death. I fear not living before I receive my smile.” There is nothing that highlights this more than the death of someone young especially in tragic circumstances and the fact that Katie, at age seven, was affected by the accident prompting her to ask her question shows just how penetrating something like that can be.
On Saturday past, the news broke of the tragic passing of Brendan Óg Ó Dufaigh. Affectionately known as ‘Ogie’. He had been driving home from captaining his native Monaghan u-20s team to an Ulster final after defeating Donegal in Brewster Park. The tragic circumstances coupled with his young youthful age of 19 sent shockwaves throughout both the GAA community and the country as a whole.
I received the news through a message in a WhatsApp group I am in and when it came through, I was shocked, and my mind instantly began to wander. I began to think of people whom I knew who had also died young in tragic circumstances, just like Brendan, and remembered the devastation it caused for the deceased’s family and friends. I thought of Brendan’s family whose lives would now be completely shattered never to be the same ever again and trying to make sense of this loss would no doubt seem impossible for them.
It is tragedies like Ogie’s that emphasise a person’s mortality to the younger population by bringing it closer to their attention. Younger people are usually more happy-go-lucky and tend to be more oblivious than their older counterparts whenever it comes to realizing how close death is to us.
It is an unnatural order for any parent to bury their child and there is no greater fear for any parent than losing one of their children. I am a parent to three children myself and my greatest wish is that the natural order of life will run its course in our family.
I wish to send my sincerest condolences to the Ó Dufaigh family and the wide circle of friends Brendan Óg had. For such a young man he had accomplished so much but this was nothing to the life that was ahead of him. It is nothing more than heartbreaking knowing all of the promise this young man had before him and the gifts he would have given to the world will never come to fruition.
I would also like to share a story about grief with the Ó Dufaigh family as well as anyone else who maybe suffering with grief at this time. I wish to share it for no other reason than the hope it may bring some form of comfort, understanding andor a handle on an otherwise inexplicable situation. This story was told to me by an old friend and Harps clubmate of mine after the untimely passing of my father.
The story starts with a room and within the room there are two things: a large button and a ball. When the button is pressed it sets off all the pain and anguish that a death brings, it’s raw and very painful to experience. In the beginning the ball is so big it fills the entire room and no matter where it tries to move to it always sets off the button. As time passes the size of the ball gets smaller and smaller, gradually hitting the button less meaning the experience of grief also lessens, but when the ball does hit the button, the grief is just as painful as the first day it was set off.
I pray Brendan Óg’s family obtain the strength to pull themselves through this tragedy and I hope they can find some solace in the beautiful outpouring of messages from the GAA world and the country as a whole. It has affected us all in some shape or form.
Do Bhreandán, bealtaine a chuid anam scíth i síocháin shíoraí.
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