Funeral of Mayo drowning victim hears of a life cut short

Martin Needham’s coffin was wheeled into a packed Church of the Holy Family in Killeen, near Louisburgh, Co Mayo, his four sisters, Olivia, Patricia, Caitríona and Elaine, ushering it gently towards the altar, the focal point of worship hidden by a large seasonal crib of the nativity.

Fr Mattie Long recalled the same place just three days before. The readings at the parish’s Christmas Eve Mass were all about news of great joy, of a “light being shone on those who walked in darkness”.

“We went home happy and relaxed, looking forward to Christmas Day in the company of loved ones and friends,” Fr Mattie said.

A little beyond the church in Killeen is the Ocean Lodge, a bar and restaurant, the only one south of Louisburgh on the Atlantic seaboard. In the early hours of Christmas Day, four young men left the bar, got into a 4x4 and headed home after a good night out, looking forward to the special day to come.

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Taking back roads, they dropped off one of their party at the small settlement of Roonith. From there, travelling along a boreen, they came to a ford on the Carrowniskey river – a ford crossed before without incident, time out of number.

But on this occasion the river, falling from the shoulder of the bog and mountains that help form the dark, brooding valley of Doolough, was swollen fat, dangerous, fast-flowing and cold.

As the 4x4 sank, Tom McGrail (19) managed to get out. Martin (27) and his friend Declan Davitt (26) were not so lucky.

“When our phones rang early on Christmas morning,” Fr Mattie said at Martin’s funeral, “we knew instinctively that it couldn’t be good news.”

It was the worst possible news.

Everything that took place on Christmas morning happened in locations that are almost within touching distance of each other, emphasising the communal impact of the tragedy.

Best friends

Martin and Declan were best friends. They grew up and lived in adjoining townlands – Aillemore and Curradavitt respectively – beside Killadoon, home of the Ocean Lodge, and overlooking the Atlantic and two islands, Clare Island and Inisturk.

Roonith lies below Killadoon, right by the sea and sandwiched between two lakes, Cross Lake and Roonah Lake, which is fed by the mahogany peat water of the Carrownisky river.

When news came through on Christmas morning, the community “walked in a period of darkness”, said Fr Mattie. It was difficult to clutch at straws of comfort in such circumstances, but if there were any it was that Martin’s body was found speedily and then, soon after, Declan’s too.

Since then, Martin’s family had told, and then told again, stories about him and his life and they had cried and cried again.

“Martin’s death at such a young age leaves us with a sense of an unfinished life, many things undone, many things maybe unsaid. We struggle very much to understand why. And the terrible reality of the extent of the tragedy has left us with nothing but our raw human emotions — a gnawing sadness, shock and disbelief, anger, helplessness and tears,” said Fr Mattie, “so many tears.”

Since he was a young boy distracted through the school window by the sound of machinery outside, Martin had had a love of machines and farming. Some years back, he went to New Zealand and worked on the harvest there; later, he went pipe-laying in Western Australia, working with diggers – “the bigger the better”.

“Martin’s love of family was the deciding factor in his decision to come home,” said Fr Mattie. “He felt he was missing out on precious family occasions.”

Epic phone calls

He knew about these because of epic phone calls he made home, calls that had to be taken standing outside the house by the front door because of poor reception, and in relays by family members because he talked so much and for so long.

Symbols of a life lived but cut short were a family photograph, a small toy sheep, a mobile phone and model farm machinery. Martin’s actual tractor was parked outside the church for the occasion.

Death for Christians had a context: it was not the end, said Fr Mattie. The Gospel tells a story of hope but we all need reassurance. For the Needham family this came “in the quiet whispered words of sympathy and the kind deed done at a difficult time”.

On Christmas Day, the people of Carrownisky and Roonith did all that was humanly possible to help. The emergency services, the Garda and Coast Guard, the Order of Malta ambulance volunteers, neighbours and friends and others assisted in so many ways.

“The professional and dignified care that was given to Martin and Declan when they were recovered, the compassion shown by all to their families, can serve to remind us just how precious each person is in the eyes of God,” said Fr Mattie.

Some 250 people who filled Killeen church were matched by a similar number outside. A choir led by Pauline O'Grady sang On Eagle's Wings, Silent Night, I Will Be the Vine and The Cloud's Veil. Ms O'Grady sang a solo version of God be with You Till We Meet Again.

Martin Needham’s coffin left the church, shepherded by two of his sisters and by his parents, Pat-Joe and Breege.

Outside, all was calm as the sun broke through low, lead-grey clouds. The hills that feed the Carrownisky were dusted in snow and the river itself was slow-flowing.

The sea and the air were still as the plain wooden coffin was lowered into the grave in Killeen Old Cemetery, overlooking the lake where Martin had been found and watched by a community swelled by the presence of his young contemporaries, many of them home for Christmas.

On Friday they will say goodbye to Declan Davitt.