I was also enraged when a letter arrived addressed to
Cathal. I opened it and discovered it was a bill from the
hospital for the ambulance. I wrote an angry letter to the
person who sent the bill. Now I am sorry that I did so. It must
have greatly hurt that individual. Nevertheless, I hope that
such institutions are more sensitive nowadays.
My diary entry for the end of that first week reveals a
disturbed and tormented mind:
‘The first weekend following Cathal’s death was one of
unrelieved misery and depression for me, despite the
fact that Margaret [Mary’s sister] was there to keep us
company. Sunday was simply a nightmare. At 11o’clock
Mass in the Cathedral I felt that many eyes were fixed
upon us. I hoped some were praying for us. I felt Mary’s
distress beside me, and dreaded the moment when the
priest would read out the list of dead. I had sometimes
imagined my own name being read out, but never this.
It was a total nightmare to hear the words ‘prayers are
requested for the happy repose of the soul of Cathal
O’Shea, The Furze’. I tried to suppress my emotion as
the unreal words re-echoed in my mind.’
Extract from When a Child Dies. Footsteps of a Grieving Family. Published by Veritas
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