WHY IT'S NOT ONLY THE DEAD WHO LOST THEIR LIVES AT OMAGH
Why it's not only the dead who lost their lives at Omagh
We all remember Gordon Wilson and his astonishing and inspiring forgiveness for the IRA terrorists who murdered his daughter, Marie, in the Enniskillen Poppy Day bombing. He dedicated the rest of his life to working for peace and reconciliation. Like everyone else I marvelled at the great humanity of the man and wondered how I would have reacted in his shoes.
Thankfully I was never put to that test, but I feel that my reactions would have been more like some of those bereaved in the Omagh bombing and who have been giving evidence in court this week.
One man, Stanley McComb, whose wife Anne was one of the 29 people killed in Omagh, said: "I don't go to bed anymore because I don't want to wake up to nothing in the morning."
The bomb did not just kill his wife, it destroyed his life. Little wonder, as he went on to tell the court: "I tried to keep going but it's lonely without Anne. That is when my hatred started. I hated those people so much and never hated anyone in my life. Every day since that day I have been so angry."
His anger and sense of desolation is so understandable, perhaps even more understandable than the forgiveness of Gordon Wilson.
Another person bereaved by the Omagh bombing, Denise Kerrigan, told the court that she turned to alcohol to help her get to sleep in the years after the bombing and has been told by her doctor that she is in danger of liver failure if she doesn't stop drinking.
Another man, Paul Radford, still feels wracked by guilt because he was helping out at the hospital unaware that his 16-year-old brother was killed in the bomb. "I was helping someone else when he needed help. I find that hard to live with," he said.
Those are heart-rending little snapshots into the lives of people desperately trying to come to terms with what happened in the Tyrone town on August 15, 1998.
For most of us the memories of the Omagh atrocity are fading fast, but they are seared into the minds, the hearts, the souls of those who lost loved ones or who were injured by the bomb blast. Time, some people argue, is a great healer, but when the hurt is of such enormity, even time can do little. For those bereaved, their emotions are still as raw today, a decade after Omagh, as they were in the immediate aftermath of the atrocity.
That is something we should never forget when thinking about people bereaved by the Troubles. It is easy to imagine that those people have come to terms with whatever happened to their loved ones. But for hundreds, maybe thousands of people, they can never come to terms with the tragedy.
How many cope only by having a drink? How many seek solace in Pharmaceuticals? How many have died still bitter at those who killed their loved ones and bitter at the failure of the security forces to find the guilty men? How many have died simply of a broken heart? The stories of the Omagh relatives are not unique. But the fact that they have had to lay bare their very personal feelings in court has given the rest of us an indication of just how much they suffered and continue to suffer.
And that was just one terrorist incident. Multiply that by all the killings and then we begin to appreciate just what a well of misery the Troubles created.
We all remember Gordon Wilson and his astonishing and inspiring forgiveness for the IRA terrorists who murdered his daughter, Marie, in the Enniskillen Poppy Day bombing. He dedicated the rest of his life to working for peace and reconciliation. Like everyone else I marvelled at the great humanity of the man and wondered how I would have reacted in his shoes.
Thankfully I was never put to that test, but I feel that my reactions would have been more like some of those bereaved in the Omagh bombing and who have been giving evidence in court this week.
One man, Stanley McComb, whose wife Anne was one of the 29 people killed in Omagh, said: "I don't go to bed anymore because I don't want to wake up to nothing in the morning."
The bomb did not just kill his wife, it destroyed his life. Little wonder, as he went on to tell the court: "I tried to keep going but it's lonely without Anne. That is when my hatred started. I hated those people so much and never hated anyone in my life. Every day since that day I have been so angry."
His anger and sense of desolation is so understandable, perhaps even more understandable than the forgiveness of Gordon Wilson.
Another person bereaved by the Omagh bombing, Denise Kerrigan, told the court that she turned to alcohol to help her get to sleep in the years after the bombing and has been told by her doctor that she is in danger of liver failure if she doesn't stop drinking.
Another man, Paul Radford, still feels wracked by guilt because he was helping out at the hospital unaware that his 16-year-old brother was killed in the bomb. "I was helping someone else when he needed help. I find that hard to live with," he said.
Those are heart-rending little snapshots into the lives of people desperately trying to come to terms with what happened in the Tyrone town on August 15, 1998.
For most of us the memories of the Omagh atrocity are fading fast, but they are seared into the minds, the hearts, the souls of those who lost loved ones or who were injured by the bomb blast. Time, some people argue, is a great healer, but when the hurt is of such enormity, even time can do little. For those bereaved, their emotions are still as raw today, a decade after Omagh, as they were in the immediate aftermath of the atrocity.
That is something we should never forget when thinking about people bereaved by the Troubles. It is easy to imagine that those people have come to terms with whatever happened to their loved ones. But for hundreds, maybe thousands of people, they can never come to terms with the tragedy.
How many cope only by having a drink? How many seek solace in Pharmaceuticals? How many have died still bitter at those who killed their loved ones and bitter at the failure of the security forces to find the guilty men? How many have died simply of a broken heart? The stories of the Omagh relatives are not unique. But the fact that they have had to lay bare their very personal feelings in court has given the rest of us an indication of just how much they suffered and continue to suffer.
And that was just one terrorist incident. Multiply that by all the killings and then we begin to appreciate just what a well of misery the Troubles created.
Further Information
Publisher: BELFAST TELEGRAPH
Ref: BT/1096
Published Date: 06-Jun-08
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