GRAVESIDE:IN THE salt air, beneath a pair of budding sycamores, Dr Patrick Hillery, former president of Ireland, was laid to rest. He had a lovely day for it.
By his graveside on the hill, his family grieved the passing of a husband, father and grandfather. No amount of dignitaries or marching bands could change that.
But this was also a time for honouring a long and exceptional life of public service. Paddy Hillery deserved a funeral fit for a president. He got that, along with a send-off fit for a family man, neighbour and friend.
President Mary McAleese was among the mourners. So too was Joe O'Loughlin, the postman in Spanish Point, where Dr Hillery had his summer home. A unique triumvirate of taoisigh past, present and future came to mark Paddy's passing: Albert Reynolds, Bertie Ahern and Brian Cowen.
There were bishops, military top brass, neighbours, friends and a busload of schoolchildren from his native Co Clare.
Two years ago, former taoiseach Charles Haughey was buried in the same cemetery - St Fintan's in Sutton, north Dublin. He lies in the field above, a very large polished granite gravestone marking his final resting place. He has a sycamore tree, too.
Yesterday, the daffodils were beginning to fade at Paddy Hillery's little plot, but the trees were in bud and a strong spring sun warmed the earth.
Some wondered why he hadn't chosen to be buried in his beloved Clare, but his final wishes were to rest beside his daughter Vivienne, who died from leukaemia at the young age of 17.
After the funeral Mass at midday, the cortege made its way slowly from the city centre, winding its way around the north shore of Dublin Bay. For the final stage, an Army bearer party shouldered the remains of Dr Hillery to its plot beneath the trees, a lone piper leading the way. There was a single red rose on the Tricolour-draped coffin.
Beside it was a little yellow primrose, the first flower of spring around the hedgerows of Spanish Point and Milltown Malbay.
The band played The Last Rose of Summer as the bearer party ceremonially removed the flag. It was folded carefully and presented to Maeve Hillery. She turned and gave it to her youngest grandson, David.
The soldiers stepped back, and, to the click of camera shutters, the coffin was lowered into the grave. Hundreds of people in the graveyard, thousands watching on television and listening on radio.
But that moment, there were just seven people on their own there.
Maeve Hillery, her son John and his wife Carolyn and their children, Sarah Jane, Patrick, Michael and David.
After the prayers, Brian Cowen stepped forward to read the oration. As he moved towards the lectern, the man who had been standing beside him moved back a step, farther into the crowd.
It was Taoiseach Bertie Ahern.
The Hillery family asked for Brian Cowen to speak at their father's graveside.
When Cowen began his oration, some wondered if Patrick Hillery wasn't saying something.
The Tánaiste gave a powerful speech. In it, he summed up Patrick Hillery, statesman and public servant, and Dr Paddy, quiet, unassuming family man.
Cowen is a powerful orator. He spoke of the man who did not crave statues or monuments to his legacy, of a man who sculpted his career quietly, but no less effectively for that.
He outlined the many achievements of Patrick Hillery during his political career and his time in Europe.
When he spoke at Charles Haughey's funeral, Bertie Ahern called the former taoiseach "a patriot to his fingertips". Cowen said the same of Dr Paddy.
"Dr Patrick Hillery was, undoubtedly, a patriot. A man who shied away from rhetoric but chose action. For those of us engaged in political life, his career of service is a model for us to follow and hope to replicate.
"To honour Paddy Hillery's political legacy, we should use his life of service and of dedication, to challenge all of us in the conduct of ours."
As he spoke of the understated, hardworking public servant who didn't crave recognition or self-advancement, one sensed the Tánaiste was setting down a marker for himself, and his party, for the future.
Following his oration - and with small thanks to Paddy Hillery - Cowen further cemented his claim on the leadership of Fianna Fáil.
After the ceremony, the dignitaries melted away. The family stayed behind, meeting people who came up from Clare for the funeral.
Among them were pupils from St Joseph's in Spanish Point. They brought with them a bunch of daffodils and bluebells, picked that morning from a field beside Dr Paddy's house.
Another busload left at seven in the morning, carrying relatives, neighbours and Fianna Fáil members.
"He was one of our own. You'd see him anywhere and he'd stop and chat to any of us," said Josephine Blackwell.
"He was the family doctor and everyone loved him."
