Anam Cara

AFTERWORD

On Saturday, January 12, 2008, John O’Donohue was laid to rest in his beloved Co. Clare. It was a day of celebration of a life, of lament for the loss of a loved one and of wild Atlantic weather. That evening I wrote the following words.

The Journey

FOR JOHN O’DONOHUE

We were promised a hard frost

But overnight a milder wind

Blew in from Fanore

And so we drove down ice-free roads

Through Kinvara and Bellharbour

A golden Burren sunrise

Heralded what you called

The wonder of the arriving day.

In Ballyvaughan a huge red sign

Pointed our way with just one word

FUNERAL

Around Black Head

The Atlantic’s mighty sweep

Welcomed the growing line of cars

All with a single destination.

We parked amid the caravans

And walked along the singing river

Remembering how you envied it

Carried by the surprise

of its own unfolding

We gathered in the marquee

And delighted in greeting friends

With laughter and embrace

As you would wish

And no—none of us could take in

The reason we were here.

The obsequies began

Eucharistic mystery

Music and memory

And laughter, always laughter.

Des Forde invited us

To pay our respects

There would be no hurry

We would lay you to rest

When we were ready

And so we filed past your coffin

And laid hands on it.

And no—we couldn’t take it in

We held your loved ones’ hands

Wishing we could especially mind Josie

Proud and frail and broken.

And then the final, final stage

To Creggagh

A great caravan

Snaking along that wild

And surf-tossed shore

That thrilled you so

A vicious south-easterly

Whipped us with icy rain

And stung us to tears

As we lowered you to lie

Face to face with rock

In a limestone valley

Your soul already freed

Face to face with God

On the eternal mountain.

Charlie Piggott played

Éamonn an Chnoic

As we huddled

Báite fuar fliuch

For the last farewell.

Home now

Through the dying day

Down flooding roads

Past sodden fields

With one more stop to make

At Corcomroe

To remember Easter dawns

When you blessed the elements

And sang the risen Christ.

A silence

And then past

Weeping Burren flags

And through the shroud of mist

Descending

Into the dark.

John Quinn

Envoi

Sometimes

A voice is sent

To calm our deepest fears

Sometimes

A hearty laugh

Will banish all our tears

Sometimes

Words will wing

Our dreaming ever higher

And sometimes

A mind will set

Our imagining afire

John Quinn