This week’s Mediahuis Irish regional newspapers’ column
Michael Commane
It was the Thursday evening of the cold spell when I called Noel to say hello and ask him if it was cold in West Kerry. He assured me it was not too bad. We chatted about this and that. We had our regular banter. I asked him was he okay and in his usual good humoured manner told me he was.
Within 48 hours a friend phoned to tell me that Noel had been found dead at home on Saturday afternoon.
I cannot believe he is dead. There is no good way to die but I do know that Noel, who was 85, could not have wished for a better death. Someone saw him driving his car on Friday. He died with his boots on, exactly what he would have wanted.
The older I get the more confused I am about life and death. These days I see it all as one big mystery. Eight years working as a hospital chaplain has brought me face-to-face with the fragility of our lives. What we worry about one moment is of no importance at the blink of an eye.
In recent years Noel and I often spoke about the transience of our lives.
Noel was one of the most generous people I ever had the good fortune to meet.
He lived in a small village. Everyone knew him. He would do anything for anyone. Noel was a talented photographer. He took photographs at every village event, had the photos printed and gave them to the relevant people and did it all for free.
Many years ago I gave him a gift of a digital camera, it was not an expensive one. At first he did not use it.
He was slow enough to go digital but when he did, he took to it like a duck to water. He was fascinated with sight and sound. Along with his photographic talent he was interested in sound production. He spent long evenings transferring old tapes on to DVDs, whether or not he ever digitised them I don’t know. He was a regular visitor to the annual Fleadh Cheoil, where he went armed with his camera and recording equipment. Most times when I called to his home he was working on tape or film, doing work for someone. Noel would always oblige and he never charged a cent.
He made currachs and canoes and took to the water in them too. Noel was a fit man, cycling his bicycle around the village up to last year. Indeed, many is the time he cycled from West Kerry to work on a Monday morning at Cork Airport.
He was the man to call when someone wanted to attach a plug onto a wire or repair a toaster. He could do anything with his hands and those hands were always there for those who found little jobs difficult.
He called to people who might have been lonely and no job would be left undone.
In his 80s you’d see him up a ladder cleaning the gutter of someone else’s house, or replacing a down-pipe that had seen better times.
A quiet unassuming man. A wonderfully gifted human being, who inspired me.
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