TRYING TO REBUILD SHATTERED LIVES
Trying to rebuild shattered lives
Four months on from the Omagh bombing the town is attempting to look forward to Christmas. Three of those affected by the bomb told Rosie Uffindell of their feeling as the so-called season of peace and goodwill approaches
ONE day in August was to bring two old friends together again - for all the wrong reasons.
Fifteen years ago, Stanley McCombe and Michael Gallagher had been neighbours after the Gallaghers were rehoused following the bombing of a police station in Omagh.
They struck up a friendship, one which dwindled when they moved apart but which was to be renewed following the tragic events of August 15 and the bomb which was to kill Stanley's wife Ann and Michael's son Adrian.
Stanley wasn't in Omagh that day. He was in Scotland with his eldest son Clive for the World Pipe Band championships. The first messages which came through proved inaccurate; the bomb was at the court house and his sister Rosemary, Omagh's head traffic warden, had been killed.
They tried to phone home but the lines were either down or engaged; at 7pm, word came through Rosemary had survived though she was injured. The news came as a relief after the previous rumours.
An hour later and Stanley's brother got a message through, confirming Rosemary's injuries and informing him his other son Colan was safe. But he said Ann was missing and the family were searching for her.
"By then, I had a really good idea something was seriously wrong. Ann would have tried to contact someone if she had been OK. I knew in my heart that Anne was critical or dead, but it wasn't until about 11 pm that I got the word."
Less than two months after their 25th wedding anniversary, Stanley was a widower. His wife and best friend had been identified by the minister of the church she attended.
Michael Gallagher had been doing some work on the car that morning. Adrian had offered to go into town to pay the car's paint bill and look for a pair of Jeans as well. He asked his mum for advice on choosing the right size and went off to town with a friend in his mum's car.
Michael returned to the garage. It was while he was there that he heard the blast. He walked straight home to find his youngest daughter had just returned from the town, she and his wife were starting to get concerned about Adrian. Michael went to the Tyrone County Hospital to find a scene "like you imagine a war would be like". People were stumbling in with horrific injuries, army helicopters were airlifting patients one after the other, blood and bandages were everywhere.
Michael stopped searching for Adrian's face after a while because the faces he was seeing were so horrifically injured; he searched by height and clothing Instead. With some relief Michael found Adrian wasn't there.
Eventually he found the father of the friend Adrian had gone to town with, Michael Barratt. The two men went to the car park they knew Adrian would have used and found the car untouched.
"I knew then that something was seriously wrong. There was still no word at home and our daughter put Adrian's baptismal candle in the window.
"We went back to the hospital and we managed to find Adrian's friend Michael. I asked him where Adrian was and he said he had been right beside him. But he didn't know where he was now."
Michael Gallagher spent the next 14 hours at the leisure centre. It was to be "the most difficult 14 hours of my life".
That morning Michael had happened to see a newspaper headline about a victim of the Enniskillen bombing who was now getting married. He thought it was wonderful that things were starting to get back to normal. Twelve hours later, sitting in the leisure centre, he recalled that headline and thought that, even if Adrian was seriously injured, there would be hope.
But at 5.30am police and social workers asked him about Adrian's distinguishing marks and the clothes he had been wearing. At that point, Michael knew.
His brother James was to identify Adrian. Michael didn't want to: he wanted to remember his son how he had left the house that morning.
Adrian's last words to his parents had been, "I won't be long."
Four months on, Stanley and Michael have forged a strong bond. They are in regular contact and they and other bereaved families have formed the Omagh Support and Self Help group to help each other through their grief and ensure it is never forgotten.
But they say the messages of sympathy and support they have received from across the UK and Ireland stand in stark contrast to the support they have received from the government.
Neither man has been able to return to work. Stanley was compensated �7,500 for his wife, Michael received nothing for his son - against a backdrop of millions being ploughed into the regeneration of Omagh itself.
"We are just another part of the troubles as far as they are concerned. We will be forgotten; they want to let it lie," Stanley said. But we will not just bury our dead and forget about it," Michael insisted. "Any responsible person would have expected the response to be more. The people who have contributed are the people who have contributed to the fund; they have given of their time and money. But we haven't received anything from the people we would have expected the help to come from.
"I have tried to go back to work but it's Impossible - I worked with Adrian in the garage so it is very difficult. The government could have arranged training for me to do something else, that's the least they could have done."
Both men feel very let down by the politicians. Stanley argues the deaths of those like Ann and Adrian have done more for people than all the
politicians put together, while Michael can't understand why politicians remain entrenched along their party lines.
"We as a family voted for peace, Adrian included," Michael said. "We didn't vote for people on our terms as Catholics, and we expected that the paramilitaries and the police and the army would begin to dismantle in the spirit of peace.
"But nobody seems to be willing to get up and run and see the urgency of it. When the assembly was sworn in one of the first things they did was vote for a summer recess; then they were in Brussels, then Washington for peace awards. How dare these people not get up and run for peace. That's what everyone in this country wants."
Now the pair are bracing themselves for Christmas. Michael believes Omagh is still struggling to come to terms with August 15 in much the same way the families are.
The Gallaghers' Christmas always began on Christmas Eve, bumping into old friends in Omagh and delivering presents to family before going on to midnight Mass.
This year will be totally different. family will not go out anywhere and have asked friends and family to visit them instead. But they are not resentful Omagh is trying to move on.
"At the beginning it was very difficult to see life getting back to normal for people but I am glad we didn't let the pain hurt us," Michael said.
"Christmas is a joyous time. We would not want people to suffer like we are. I would rather see Omagh happy.
"But I was in town the other day and there weren't many people around. It was as though Omagh was still struggling - and I felt like that too."
Christmas will just be another day for Stanley, a non-event as far as he is concerned.
"Christmas morning we would always have had a baked ham breakfast and gone to church.
"This year we will go to my sister's but it's just a matter of going to dinner. And I will not go to church because It will be just too difficult - Ann was in the choir and this year she won't be there."
Christmas is also a time to look forward to what the new year may bring, but as far as hopes for 1999 are concerned, the men take each day as it comes.
"I live from day to day," Stanley said.
"Tomorrow never comes as far as I am concerned. What have I to look forward to? The most important person in my life has gone: how can I contemplate going on?"
Michael's hopes for the future were always very much wrapped up in his son.
"When you have someone like that who is so much part of your life, It's very difficult to change your plans and refocus.
"When you had so many high hopes that just disappeared overnight, very, very difficult."
The men agreed to be photographed by the courthouse the first time they had been back there since the memorial service.
Neither has returned site it self, and neither was able to bring himself to attend the switch-on of the Christmas lights. The memories are all too vivid, the pain too difficult. Yet amid the evil they have also witnessed good. "What happened in Omagh was like a wild animal in its last throngs of death, thrashing out as much wicked and evil as it could. We pray it's the end, I hope it's the last, but I hold my breath," Michael said.
"Yet there is an awful lot of goodness we have found, people the length and breadth of this country and the UK have been so kind.
"I take forward the good, what keeps me afloat."
Four months on from the Omagh bombing the town is attempting to look forward to Christmas. Three of those affected by the bomb told Rosie Uffindell of their feeling as the so-called season of peace and goodwill approaches
ONE day in August was to bring two old friends together again - for all the wrong reasons.
Fifteen years ago, Stanley McCombe and Michael Gallagher had been neighbours after the Gallaghers were rehoused following the bombing of a police station in Omagh.
They struck up a friendship, one which dwindled when they moved apart but which was to be renewed following the tragic events of August 15 and the bomb which was to kill Stanley's wife Ann and Michael's son Adrian.
Stanley wasn't in Omagh that day. He was in Scotland with his eldest son Clive for the World Pipe Band championships. The first messages which came through proved inaccurate; the bomb was at the court house and his sister Rosemary, Omagh's head traffic warden, had been killed.
They tried to phone home but the lines were either down or engaged; at 7pm, word came through Rosemary had survived though she was injured. The news came as a relief after the previous rumours.
An hour later and Stanley's brother got a message through, confirming Rosemary's injuries and informing him his other son Colan was safe. But he said Ann was missing and the family were searching for her.
"By then, I had a really good idea something was seriously wrong. Ann would have tried to contact someone if she had been OK. I knew in my heart that Anne was critical or dead, but it wasn't until about 11 pm that I got the word."
Less than two months after their 25th wedding anniversary, Stanley was a widower. His wife and best friend had been identified by the minister of the church she attended.
Michael Gallagher had been doing some work on the car that morning. Adrian had offered to go into town to pay the car's paint bill and look for a pair of Jeans as well. He asked his mum for advice on choosing the right size and went off to town with a friend in his mum's car.
Michael returned to the garage. It was while he was there that he heard the blast. He walked straight home to find his youngest daughter had just returned from the town, she and his wife were starting to get concerned about Adrian. Michael went to the Tyrone County Hospital to find a scene "like you imagine a war would be like". People were stumbling in with horrific injuries, army helicopters were airlifting patients one after the other, blood and bandages were everywhere.
Michael stopped searching for Adrian's face after a while because the faces he was seeing were so horrifically injured; he searched by height and clothing Instead. With some relief Michael found Adrian wasn't there.
Eventually he found the father of the friend Adrian had gone to town with, Michael Barratt. The two men went to the car park they knew Adrian would have used and found the car untouched.
"I knew then that something was seriously wrong. There was still no word at home and our daughter put Adrian's baptismal candle in the window.
"We went back to the hospital and we managed to find Adrian's friend Michael. I asked him where Adrian was and he said he had been right beside him. But he didn't know where he was now."
Michael Gallagher spent the next 14 hours at the leisure centre. It was to be "the most difficult 14 hours of my life".
That morning Michael had happened to see a newspaper headline about a victim of the Enniskillen bombing who was now getting married. He thought it was wonderful that things were starting to get back to normal. Twelve hours later, sitting in the leisure centre, he recalled that headline and thought that, even if Adrian was seriously injured, there would be hope.
But at 5.30am police and social workers asked him about Adrian's distinguishing marks and the clothes he had been wearing. At that point, Michael knew.
His brother James was to identify Adrian. Michael didn't want to: he wanted to remember his son how he had left the house that morning.
Adrian's last words to his parents had been, "I won't be long."
Four months on, Stanley and Michael have forged a strong bond. They are in regular contact and they and other bereaved families have formed the Omagh Support and Self Help group to help each other through their grief and ensure it is never forgotten.
But they say the messages of sympathy and support they have received from across the UK and Ireland stand in stark contrast to the support they have received from the government.
Neither man has been able to return to work. Stanley was compensated �7,500 for his wife, Michael received nothing for his son - against a backdrop of millions being ploughed into the regeneration of Omagh itself.
"We are just another part of the troubles as far as they are concerned. We will be forgotten; they want to let it lie," Stanley said. But we will not just bury our dead and forget about it," Michael insisted. "Any responsible person would have expected the response to be more. The people who have contributed are the people who have contributed to the fund; they have given of their time and money. But we haven't received anything from the people we would have expected the help to come from.
"I have tried to go back to work but it's Impossible - I worked with Adrian in the garage so it is very difficult. The government could have arranged training for me to do something else, that's the least they could have done."
Both men feel very let down by the politicians. Stanley argues the deaths of those like Ann and Adrian have done more for people than all the
politicians put together, while Michael can't understand why politicians remain entrenched along their party lines.
"We as a family voted for peace, Adrian included," Michael said. "We didn't vote for people on our terms as Catholics, and we expected that the paramilitaries and the police and the army would begin to dismantle in the spirit of peace.
"But nobody seems to be willing to get up and run and see the urgency of it. When the assembly was sworn in one of the first things they did was vote for a summer recess; then they were in Brussels, then Washington for peace awards. How dare these people not get up and run for peace. That's what everyone in this country wants."
Now the pair are bracing themselves for Christmas. Michael believes Omagh is still struggling to come to terms with August 15 in much the same way the families are.
The Gallaghers' Christmas always began on Christmas Eve, bumping into old friends in Omagh and delivering presents to family before going on to midnight Mass.
This year will be totally different. family will not go out anywhere and have asked friends and family to visit them instead. But they are not resentful Omagh is trying to move on.
"At the beginning it was very difficult to see life getting back to normal for people but I am glad we didn't let the pain hurt us," Michael said.
"Christmas is a joyous time. We would not want people to suffer like we are. I would rather see Omagh happy.
"But I was in town the other day and there weren't many people around. It was as though Omagh was still struggling - and I felt like that too."
Christmas will just be another day for Stanley, a non-event as far as he is concerned.
"Christmas morning we would always have had a baked ham breakfast and gone to church.
"This year we will go to my sister's but it's just a matter of going to dinner. And I will not go to church because It will be just too difficult - Ann was in the choir and this year she won't be there."
Christmas is also a time to look forward to what the new year may bring, but as far as hopes for 1999 are concerned, the men take each day as it comes.
"I live from day to day," Stanley said.
"Tomorrow never comes as far as I am concerned. What have I to look forward to? The most important person in my life has gone: how can I contemplate going on?"
Michael's hopes for the future were always very much wrapped up in his son.
"When you have someone like that who is so much part of your life, It's very difficult to change your plans and refocus.
"When you had so many high hopes that just disappeared overnight, very, very difficult."
The men agreed to be photographed by the courthouse the first time they had been back there since the memorial service.
Neither has returned site it self, and neither was able to bring himself to attend the switch-on of the Christmas lights. The memories are all too vivid, the pain too difficult. Yet amid the evil they have also witnessed good. "What happened in Omagh was like a wild animal in its last throngs of death, thrashing out as much wicked and evil as it could. We pray it's the end, I hope it's the last, but I hold my breath," Michael said.
"Yet there is an awful lot of goodness we have found, people the length and breadth of this country and the UK have been so kind.
"I take forward the good, what keeps me afloat."
Further Information
Publisher: THE IRISH NEWS
Ref: IN/0247
Published Date: 12-Dec-98
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