JIM O'SHEA
Counselling Service

On that morning surrounded by this vast congregation, I felt
utterly alone. As the priest recited the prayers of the Mass, which
I had heard so often, I stared at the coffin. I imagined Cathal
lying silently in the darkness of the coffin. I wanted to taste
the bitterness of loss. But how I would love to see the face
of my child again. To hear his voice. To see his mischievous
smile. To hear him play the flute, as he teased me that
he was a faster learner than I was. It would never be. I would
never see his face again, nor hear his voice. I felt a strong
desire to open the coffin and look on him; a kind of despairing
thought.

Extract from When a Child Dies. Footsteps of aGrieving Family. Published by Veritas.

One of my past pupils, Gerard O’Brien, a wonderful singer,
and now a solicitor working in Thurles, rushed from Dublin
to prepare the students for the singing at the funeralMass.
I am still moved to tears when I hear the hymn Be Not Afraid.
It always reminds me of the sadness of losing Cathal.

Be not afraid,

I go before you always,

Come follow me,

And I will give you rest.

You shall cross the barren desert,

But you shall not die of thirst.

You shall wander far in safety,

Though you do not know the way.

You shall speak your words in foreign lands,

and all will understand.

You shall see the face of God and live.

With heightened senses every word entered my being. I felt

so lonely listening to its cadences. I pictured the barrenness and
the vastness of the desert; I felt the loneliness of this vast world
stretching far away into the horizon. But, in the midst of
all the horror I found it somehow very healing. It is one of the
most healing memories for me. It made sense of the funeral
rite, not just as a religious one, but as a healing one. And
it has lasted down to this time. I don’t go to many funerals,
and when I hear this hymn it brings me back to February
1990, and I feel the sadness again, for the bereaved, but
mainly for myself.

Extractfrom When a Child Dies. Footsteps of a Grieving Family. Published by Veritas.

As we entered the Cathedral yard once more we experienced the
sympathy of a huge crowd, many of whom had taken time off
work to come and pray with us. As I entered this beautiful building,I again saw the grey uniforms of all the students of Thurles Christian Brothers School, who had been marshalled by their Principal, An Bráthair Seán Ó Dúgáin. I found this  profoundly
moving; the most moving part of the funeral rite. I am eternally grateful to An Bráthair Ó Dúgáin for his kindness and support during that time, and for bringing all the students to the funeral. It still moves me when I think of it, because I associate it so closely with Cathal in his school uniform in the coffin before the altar.

Extract from When a Child Dies. Footsteps of a Grieving Family. Published by Veritas.

I awoke depressed, lonely and terrified on Tuesday 20th, the day
Cathal would be buried. Our neighbours came to support us, trying in vain to divert us, getting the breakfast ready. Mary’s sister Breda was ill, and my daughter Breda was trying to help her before we set off to the Cathedral for the funeral Mass. For Frances, that morning was ‘as surreal as the mornings before. My disbelief had abated none. I dressed in something black. No make-up again. Very little food. I was cried out from the day before and numb. I felt like I was walking underwater. Every movement felt laboured. I told Breda that I wished I had a photo of Cathal in the coffin looking dead; I needed that to remember he was gone.

Extract from When a Child Dies. Footsteps of a
Grieving Family. Published by Veritas.