Thank you

On behalf of myself, and my family

If you live a natural life, without unexpected accidents or illness, then the death of one’s father is something that comes to us all. It came to me, and to my family, last week.

My father was fortunate: His final illness was relatively brief, and his death was at home, in his sleep, in his own bed, surrounded by people who loved him. He lived a long life relatively unspoiled by unforeseen tragedy or loss, and almost made it to eighty. I’d take that deal myself, were it on offer.

Of course, the grief is very real. I had a very good man for a father and, though we were very different people and not prone to talking for hours on the phone – “wait and I’ll get ma”, he would say, when I rang and we would run out of things to say about the weather – he was never not there when any of us needed him. His passions were his wife, his children, and his work, in that order. Though latterly his grandchildren bumped us all down a rank, which is right and proper.

For my part, I just wanted to say thank you. Far too many of you reached out to me and my family personally over the past few days for me to be able to ever thank you all individually, though I shall try. Some of you even came to our home to pay respects, despite never having met me. That was incredible. One of the things about this little community of podcast listeners is that many of you know Sarah and I very well, despite maybe never having met us. That some of you would make the effort to show up absolutely blew me away.

Many others simply sent messages, or left comments, all of which were deeply appreciated.

We get many things wrong in this country, but one thing that – I think – we do well are funerals and grief. I’ve not lived in Monaghan, or in the family home, for close to 24 years, and I met people this past weekend I hadn’t seen in over two decades.

The turnout of people to offer help – from making tea to parking cars to bringing food – is one of the most humbling things I have ever experienced. We do funerals in a way that says “this person mattered, we cared about them, and we care about you”. Until you experience it yourself, you don’t truly appreciate how comforting that is. I hope we never lose it, or fully embrace the funeral home culture that is slowly creeping in.

This is a pic of my dad and myself, when he and mum joined Orla and I on holiday in Madeira two years ago. I’ll always have the memories of that trip, and of the 42 years in which he was the best dad I could ever have hoped to have.

Thank you all so much.

J.