SILENT MAJORITY UNITED IN GRIEF
Silent majority united by grief
By JACKIE MCKEOWN
at the Omagh ceremony
WIDOWER Laurence Rush raised his face to heaven as if to plead for strength as Omagh's church bells tolled.
The father-of-three, pictured left, stood silently on the courthouse steps, staring blankly at the scene where his beloved soulmate Libby perished seven days earlier. His anguish was mirrored in the faces of other relatives of the dead, who were joined by emergency workers and politicians for the service of reflection.
And that pain was reflected many thousand times over in the hearts of the crowds who packed the tiny streets to stand in solidarity, for love and against evil. Addressing a sea of bowed heads, Catholic priest Fr Kevin Mullan recalled how death searched "with its savage, scorching breath" in the heat of the blast.
He remembered how many had fought "its bloody greed" in the streets and in the hospitals.
And he spoke of how the spot where so many were murdered and maimed has become a "silent sanctuary of remembrance, sharing the silence of the inner sanctuaries of broken hearts and families".
The tearful silence was broken as St Eugene's band began The Lord's My Shepherd and a mass of voices swelled the air with the familiar prayer.
For some it was too much.
Stanley McCombe, whose wife Ann died in the atrocity, buried his face in a handkerchief as he sobbed inconsolably.
Protestant and Catholic stepped up to the stand to read prayers for the bereaved, injured, the community, the emergency and health workers
in English, Irish and Spanish.
Sobs were heard from the crowd as local soloist Juliet Turner sang of how God is close to the broken-hearted.
The battle to hold back the tide of grief broke as council chief John McKinney solemnly read out the names of the dead.
Michael Doherty, who lost his eight-year-old son Oran, clung white-knuckled to the courthouse railings.
Shaking his head slowly, the Buncrana dad crumbled and had to be supported by relatives, tears streaming down their faces.
While the act of reflection was intended to be the end of a chapter in an unfathomable horror, the piteous sight was an indication of the endless grief each family will have to bear.
Those who caused their pain must surely have been deafened by the sound of so many standing in silence, echoed throughout the island.
In those moments, it was easy to imagine a different kind of silence at 3.10pm last Saturday.
Then, it was followed by the mind-numbing sounds only found in the most terrifying of nightmares.
Yesterday, the steadying words of the Lord's Prayer rose from thousands upon thousands of lips, cleansing and reclaiming Omagh for good.
Protestant and Catholic youngsters Louise Scott, who was injured in the blast, and Jody Sharkey, whose uncle was murdered, followed with a prayer of hope.
They were embraced by Presbyterian minister Robert Herron who concluded with a blessing for peace.
Afterwards, relatives mingled with church leaders and politicians, including John Hume, David Trimble, Bertie Ahern, Mary McAleese, Paul Murphy and Gerry Adams.
The crowds dispersed gently, many retracing the steps their loved ones had taken last Saturday from the courthouse to the bottom of the town.
Yesterday, flowers and poems lined the route which came to an end at green metal screens, which hide all but the roofs of the wrecked shops.
Many stood staring, unseeing, imagining the horror that unfolded yards from where they stood a few short days ago.
Others made their way to Drumragh Bridge, to the countless floral tributes whose sweet perfume lay heavy on the air.
Messages of grief, love and sympathy adorned the bouquets.
One addressed to "the Irishmen and Irishwomen" who planted the bomb, read: "The people of Omagh will never let you or anyone else divide them. "In grief, we stand together now, united against you."
By JACKIE MCKEOWN
at the Omagh ceremony
WIDOWER Laurence Rush raised his face to heaven as if to plead for strength as Omagh's church bells tolled.
The father-of-three, pictured left, stood silently on the courthouse steps, staring blankly at the scene where his beloved soulmate Libby perished seven days earlier. His anguish was mirrored in the faces of other relatives of the dead, who were joined by emergency workers and politicians for the service of reflection.
And that pain was reflected many thousand times over in the hearts of the crowds who packed the tiny streets to stand in solidarity, for love and against evil. Addressing a sea of bowed heads, Catholic priest Fr Kevin Mullan recalled how death searched "with its savage, scorching breath" in the heat of the blast.
He remembered how many had fought "its bloody greed" in the streets and in the hospitals.
And he spoke of how the spot where so many were murdered and maimed has become a "silent sanctuary of remembrance, sharing the silence of the inner sanctuaries of broken hearts and families".
The tearful silence was broken as St Eugene's band began The Lord's My Shepherd and a mass of voices swelled the air with the familiar prayer.
For some it was too much.
Stanley McCombe, whose wife Ann died in the atrocity, buried his face in a handkerchief as he sobbed inconsolably.
Protestant and Catholic stepped up to the stand to read prayers for the bereaved, injured, the community, the emergency and health workers
in English, Irish and Spanish.
Sobs were heard from the crowd as local soloist Juliet Turner sang of how God is close to the broken-hearted.
The battle to hold back the tide of grief broke as council chief John McKinney solemnly read out the names of the dead.
Michael Doherty, who lost his eight-year-old son Oran, clung white-knuckled to the courthouse railings.
Shaking his head slowly, the Buncrana dad crumbled and had to be supported by relatives, tears streaming down their faces.
While the act of reflection was intended to be the end of a chapter in an unfathomable horror, the piteous sight was an indication of the endless grief each family will have to bear.
Those who caused their pain must surely have been deafened by the sound of so many standing in silence, echoed throughout the island.
In those moments, it was easy to imagine a different kind of silence at 3.10pm last Saturday.
Then, it was followed by the mind-numbing sounds only found in the most terrifying of nightmares.
Yesterday, the steadying words of the Lord's Prayer rose from thousands upon thousands of lips, cleansing and reclaiming Omagh for good.
Protestant and Catholic youngsters Louise Scott, who was injured in the blast, and Jody Sharkey, whose uncle was murdered, followed with a prayer of hope.
They were embraced by Presbyterian minister Robert Herron who concluded with a blessing for peace.
Afterwards, relatives mingled with church leaders and politicians, including John Hume, David Trimble, Bertie Ahern, Mary McAleese, Paul Murphy and Gerry Adams.
The crowds dispersed gently, many retracing the steps their loved ones had taken last Saturday from the courthouse to the bottom of the town.
Yesterday, flowers and poems lined the route which came to an end at green metal screens, which hide all but the roofs of the wrecked shops.
Many stood staring, unseeing, imagining the horror that unfolded yards from where they stood a few short days ago.
Others made their way to Drumragh Bridge, to the countless floral tributes whose sweet perfume lay heavy on the air.
Messages of grief, love and sympathy adorned the bouquets.
One addressed to "the Irishmen and Irishwomen" who planted the bomb, read: "The people of Omagh will never let you or anyone else divide them. "In grief, we stand together now, united against you."
Further Information
Publisher: SUNDAY LIFE
Ref: SL/022
Published Date: 23-Aug-98
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