It is unbearably sad to think of young girls who should be attending graduation Masses and prayer services before examinations, being carried out instead from churches to their graves.
Sinéad, Aimee, Lisa, Claire and Deirdre are names that are being called out at prize-givings and end of school year celebrations all over the country. In Meath, these names will summon not smiling faces but the anguish of loss.
The mind shies away from what their families and friends must be experiencing, because the heart cannot cope with the enormity of their grief. All across Ireland, parents who would normally be irritated or annoyed by some trivial act of their children, are suspending those reactions, jolted into gratitude for the fact that their children are with them and alive.
In Ireland, we have a long tradition of coping with death through community rituals. Occasionally they were raucous and disruptive, yet in general, the idea of wakes where a person is mourned and celebrated, laughed and cried over, is a very healthy one. One of the positive side-effects of our media-saturated age, is that the families will be aware of a nationwide outpouring of sympathy.
Yet without in any way wishing to take away from the genuineness of the response of people not personally involved, other factors will be crucial to how families and friends of these girls navigate the storms of grief that now threaten to engulf them.
Community support is vital, and Meath, despite being part of the commuter belt, still retains a strong community identity. Inner resources, and strong relationships will also be important factors.
As Marie Murray pointed out in a sensitive article earlier this week, while we can identify recognisable patterns in the process of grief, every individual will grieve in his or her own way. Having been a witness to too many deaths of young people in recent years, I can only concur with her assessment.
Some people need an immediate outpouring of grief. Some people pack their grief away, to take it out, piece by piece, as they find the strength to assimilate what has happened to them. People must be allowed to grieve in their own ways.
All we can do is to offer our presence, flawed, hesitant and unsure as it may be.
There is a natural instinct to want to help, to make things better. However, people must be allowed space to be numb, or bitterly angry at life or God, or to express pain deeper and more piercing than any physical wound. Sometimes grief and anger can be channelled in positive ways that help to make sense of tragedy. Parents who lose children through rare diseases set up support groups so that others will not have to feel alone. Mothers of those killed by drunk drivers become powerful advocates for change.
Families bereaved through suicide start campaigns to raise awareness of warning signs. Yet such responses, if they come, are a long way down the road for those families bereaved in Meath.
At a time of unbearable loss, it has been heartening to see how the community rallied around. The very fact of community closeness which makes the tragedies so keenly felt, is also the first bulwark of support. As one local priest, Fr Brogan said: "The girls were all born here, they were baptised here, went to school and were confirmed here. They went to Mass in the same churches as the local community here. Now they will make their final journey from here as well."
Although the closeness of the community magnifies the pain, those common bonds will provide valuable support in the coming weeks. In such a community, the provision of psychologists and counsellors takes its proper place, as ancillary support.
What the young people in particular need more than anything is space to grieve, and to support each other.
The response does not need now to come primarily from professionals. It is in months to come that some individuals will need professional support, perhaps because these deaths raise echoes of other traumas. The Department of Education and the Health Board have been good about providing immediate support. Sadly, our psychological services for young people are so over-stretched, that crisis intervention means that other areas have to be temporarily abandoned. Weeks and months down the line, I hope adequate supports will still be in place.
Although in Meath, counselling seems to be in its proper place as one of a number of services, at other times we are in danger of falling into the trap of seeing counselling as a panacea for all ills.
Callers to "phone-in" shows often act as if counselling were some modern-day magic wand, whereas people who are good counsellors have much more modest views of what counselling can achieve.
At its best, counselling can help people to clarify what is happening to them, and to identify inner resources and valid external supports. It cannot work miracles.
It is part of our modern impatience with the natural unfolding of life that we sometimes want to take away pain before the person has even had a chance to assimilate what has happened to him or her. If someone you love dies needlessly and tragically, pain and grief are natural and healthy responses, and they should be given respect and time.
It is interesting to reflect on the experiences of those involved in Dunblane and Omagh. In both places, people identified very quickly that what they needed most was support from each other.
In Dunblane, Maxwell Craig, the local Church of Scotland minister who played a pivotal role, says that it was "important that they knew that professional support was available if they needed it, but peer support was more important." Church attendance was high in Dunblane, too, which provided people with an outlet for expression of grief.
In Omagh, Michael Gallagher who lost his 19-year-old son Aidan, cautioned that professionals one day pack up and leave, and that is why it is vital to set up networks of people who can listen.
Meanwhile, the rest of us will pray for those bereaved, if that is part of our belief system, and realise once again how often we squander the fleeting, fragile gift of time spent with those we love.