In the corner of Tyrone that nurtured her, a devout wife, daughter and friend is mourned with great dignity, writes KATHY SHERIDANin Ballygawley
THE CORTEGE of Michaela Harte finally rounded the corner from her home on the little Glencull Road at 10 minutes after midday, about half an hour behind schedule.
In profound silence, broken only by a small airplane circling the blue winter sky, the pall-bearers carried the flower-painted coffin of the 27-year-old bride of two weeks, laid out in her wedding dress, down the road she would have taken as a child to the tiny primary school a few hundred yards away, and from there to the little church of St Malachy, where she married John McAreavey less than three weeks ago.
This was Michaela Harte’s hinterland, the intimate neighbourhood that nurtured her, fostered her devout Catholic faith and love of Irish culture, the mile of pasture land and small business premises that marked the milestones of her life.
The strong, all-embracing arms of the GAA reached out to cradle and protect her and her loved ones as they walked their via dolorosa. Ranged along the road in their hundreds, in their Comhairle Uladh high-visibility vests and jeans, easing the work of courteous PSNI officers, standing in zero temperatures directing drivers to parking areas, stewarding mourners to shuttle buses at the pick-up points five miles away, they were a manifestation of community and church in action.
A solemn parade of men from the Tyrone GAA senior football team and from the local club, Aireagal Chiaráin, identifiable by their club jackets and dark trousers, served as Michaela’s honour guard along the route, ready to lend practical and emotional support as her husband, father, brothers and other loved ones bore her coffin along the country road, stopping at the primary school to place it into the flower-laden hearse for the last hundred yards to the turn-off for the church, before reassuming their burden.
Amid a steadily growing crowd, a black Mercedes carried Marian Harte and Tish McAreavey, the mothers of Michaela and John. As the car passed close to a phalanx of cameras, a man urged the young players to form a tight formation alongside the car, in an attempt to shield the grieving women from the cameras and general media – including French, British and Dutch stations and publications – which had agreed to requests to stay away from the church and cemetery.
In his homily John McAreavey’s uncle, Bishop John McAreavey, implicitly acknowledged that Marian Harte had been virtually written out of early reports in the wake of the tragedy. She was the first individual mentioned by him when he noted the “great warmth and affection” in her references to her daughter. “In most families, one of the strongest relationships is the friendship between mother and daughter, especially an only daughter. This was certainly true in the Harte family,” he said.
He also acknowledged that Michaela’s death “may be a challenge to the faith of many, particularly those of Michaela and John’s generation, as well as Michaela’s pupils and the young people that John works with in Tullylish . . . One of the hardest things in life is finding that there are things that we cannot understand, no matter how hard we try.”
In further acknowledgement of this generational divide, a decision was taken to explain the offertory gifts – the symbols chosen to “highlight the beauty and witness of Michaela’s life” – before Mass began. So Fr Gerard McAleer talked about the family photograph – symbol of Michaela’s pride in the Harte, Donnelly, McAreavey and McCann families; her rosary beads, fáinne ór and Pioneer pin – “her commitment to faith in action and to positive lifestyle choices”; the rose – “our Ulster Rose in 2004 . . . and the symbol of beauty and love, long associated with St Therese, the Little Flower”; and finally, the tea and biscuits, which would “need no explanation for anyone who knew Michaela well”, he said.
Earlier, as John McAreavey and Mickey Harte entered the church linking and almost leaning on one another, an observer noted how John McAreavey looked despairingly up at the sky and over towards the adjoining cemetery where his bride would soon be buried. But there were no anguished scenes. The day’s rituals were marked by order and dignity, with an emphasis on tradition and solemnity.
The funeral Mass included poignant echoes of the couple’s wedding ceremony. The readings were common to both occasions. The church flowers were a replica of those used on that day.
A rare departure from the traditional liturgical music was the singing at Communion of the folk ballad Caledonia, a favourite of Michaela's, sung in the church by one of her favourite singers, Mary Black, with the chorus: "Let me tell you that I love you/That I think about you all the time/Caledonia you're calling me/Now I'm going home."
Otherwise the adherence to Catholic tradition was absolute, with no eulogy at the end of the Mass. The hymns at her burial reflected the faith and country she loved: Song for Irelandand Lady of Knock.