HOMECOMING PRIEST ENDED UP ADMINISTRATING CEASELESS LAST RITES
Homecoming priest ended up administering ceaseless last rites
By MARTINA DEVLIN
The priest's eyes were standing in his head with exhaustion. He still hadn't recovered from an endless day and even longer
night spent administering the last rites.
Father Donal Gillespie gave comfort to dying men and women at the bomb scene and then rushed to the hospital to continue his solemn role.
"There wasn't time for last confessions, I just gave as many people as I could the last rites," he said. "I gave it to people on the move,
to people on the ground and on stretchers. It was horrific."
Father Gillespie was back in his home town of Omagh on holiday from his South Wales parish when he found himself caught up in the explosion.
"I was up until five in the morning, had a couple of hours of sleep and came back again to see if I could help," he added.
"There were no words of comfort I could give relatives, I just listened. There was nothing I could say. I can't believe what I'm seeing in this town where I was born and grew up."
Omagh-based priest Fr Eugene Hasson walked around the leisure centre giving what consolation he could.
But he admitted: "There, just, aren't any words to comfort people in a situation like this. All you can do is offer a gesture, handshake or hug around the shoulders: anything that shows your sympathy.
"I'm talking to people who are waiting to hear if those they love are alive or dead. Some still have hope but as the day goes on it is lessening. Everybody is simply asking 'Why Omagh?' "
Fr Hasson celebrated an ecumenical mass in the gymnasium of the leisure centre where anxious families waited for news. "I'm getting the whole range of reactions from people," he said. "Some are very forgiving and some just cannot forgive.
"But Omagh people, are a very common sense kind of people and they are applying that now as best they can to a horrific situation that can't be imagined."
In this town of around 25,008, with a 60-40 Catholic majority, people have prided themselves for years on the tolerance, with which both traditions live peacefully side by side.
The Catholic church is situated almost directly opposite a Church of Ireland church and beside a Methodist church. The bomb has killed both sectors of the community indiscriminately, people muttered during an interminable Sunday of waiting.
Retired Protestant businessman Trevor Kane (61) hadn't been home since the bomb went off 24 hours earlier. He was determined to stay in the town to show his support for Catholic neighbours. He also attended the ecumenical mass and said he was touched by the community spirit he encountered there.
"It makes no difference here what religion you are." said the former coal merchant. "Omagh is a good town, the people will stand side by side now. It's a decent community and a small minority of men are not going to change that.
"Here we all are in the North fighting over flags or a stretch of road to walk down. What good is a flag to you when you're burying people you love?" Mr Kane spoke of his feeling of helplessness when an acquaintance told him he was about to go to the morgue to identify his 17-year-old daughter. "How am I going to do it?" the man asked him. Mr Kane told him "take a deep breath and just get it over with".
Later he spoke to the same man, who admitted he could not bring himself to view the teenager's remains and sent another relative instead.
As he spoke a friend interrupted him to whisper news that was horrifying people in this town which thought itself numbed with horror: it was believed a family had lost three generations in the blast.
"Who could live with a blow like that," asked the friend, shaking his head.
By MARTINA DEVLIN
The priest's eyes were standing in his head with exhaustion. He still hadn't recovered from an endless day and even longer
night spent administering the last rites.
Father Donal Gillespie gave comfort to dying men and women at the bomb scene and then rushed to the hospital to continue his solemn role.
"There wasn't time for last confessions, I just gave as many people as I could the last rites," he said. "I gave it to people on the move,
to people on the ground and on stretchers. It was horrific."
Father Gillespie was back in his home town of Omagh on holiday from his South Wales parish when he found himself caught up in the explosion.
"I was up until five in the morning, had a couple of hours of sleep and came back again to see if I could help," he added.
"There were no words of comfort I could give relatives, I just listened. There was nothing I could say. I can't believe what I'm seeing in this town where I was born and grew up."
Omagh-based priest Fr Eugene Hasson walked around the leisure centre giving what consolation he could.
But he admitted: "There, just, aren't any words to comfort people in a situation like this. All you can do is offer a gesture, handshake or hug around the shoulders: anything that shows your sympathy.
"I'm talking to people who are waiting to hear if those they love are alive or dead. Some still have hope but as the day goes on it is lessening. Everybody is simply asking 'Why Omagh?' "
Fr Hasson celebrated an ecumenical mass in the gymnasium of the leisure centre where anxious families waited for news. "I'm getting the whole range of reactions from people," he said. "Some are very forgiving and some just cannot forgive.
"But Omagh people, are a very common sense kind of people and they are applying that now as best they can to a horrific situation that can't be imagined."
In this town of around 25,008, with a 60-40 Catholic majority, people have prided themselves for years on the tolerance, with which both traditions live peacefully side by side.
The Catholic church is situated almost directly opposite a Church of Ireland church and beside a Methodist church. The bomb has killed both sectors of the community indiscriminately, people muttered during an interminable Sunday of waiting.
Retired Protestant businessman Trevor Kane (61) hadn't been home since the bomb went off 24 hours earlier. He was determined to stay in the town to show his support for Catholic neighbours. He also attended the ecumenical mass and said he was touched by the community spirit he encountered there.
"It makes no difference here what religion you are." said the former coal merchant. "Omagh is a good town, the people will stand side by side now. It's a decent community and a small minority of men are not going to change that.
"Here we all are in the North fighting over flags or a stretch of road to walk down. What good is a flag to you when you're burying people you love?" Mr Kane spoke of his feeling of helplessness when an acquaintance told him he was about to go to the morgue to identify his 17-year-old daughter. "How am I going to do it?" the man asked him. Mr Kane told him "take a deep breath and just get it over with".
Later he spoke to the same man, who admitted he could not bring himself to view the teenager's remains and sent another relative instead.
As he spoke a friend interrupted him to whisper news that was horrifying people in this town which thought itself numbed with horror: it was believed a family had lost three generations in the blast.
"Who could live with a blow like that," asked the friend, shaking his head.
Further Information
Publisher: IRISH INDEPENDENT
Ref: II/008
Published Date: 17-Aug-98
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