Saying farewell to my hero, my brother

This week, I would like to avail of this column to pay tribute to my brother, Tomás Mac Cormaic, who died since I wrote my last column.

Politics is, of course, all about service to the community and Tomás devoted much of his life to the service of his community in Shannon as town clerk. The word comes from the Greek word ‘politika’, modelled on Aristotle’s ‘affairs of the city’. It is all about people and their well-being. Tomás loved to serve people – his family, his neighbours and his country. That’s also what true patriotism is all about.
I am proud and was privileged to have been his brother for more than 70 years. So would anybody else. At this early stage, I still cannot accept that he has gone from us forever. People tell me that time will ease that pain.
I hate to use clichés but sometimes the well-worn cliché can put your thoughts into words better than any new phrase you can think of. Tomás was larger than life.
I cannot associate him with death, especially his own death. I cannot accept that I will never meet him again.
We met irregularly over the years at matches, at funerals and at other family functions. We might walk away together from a grave, have a few pints and go our separate ways. Last Friday, I walked away from a grave and left him behind. Never again will I walk away from a hurling match with him and replay the match over our pints. Death is so final.
He was my hero. As a child I looked up to him. He seemed to know everything. When he came home from the Christian Brothers in the evening he fascinated me with what he had learned during the day. I learned that an old Roman warlord was called a ‘duck’s belly’ and the French were so funny that when they wanted to agree with someone, they said “wee wee”.
I remember one fair day in Kilkishen during the war he told me that Hitler was in Bridgey Mack’s house, just down the street. I had to see for myself and found ‘Hitler’ sitting on the hob, drinking his tea from a saucer. I was too young to wonder whether the Fuhrer had come to Kilkishen that day to buy or to sell cattle, sheep or pigs. Or even what he was doing in Kilkishen, rather than running the war from a bunker in Berlin.
Whenever we got into trouble at home, or did things that little boys should not be doing, he always took the rap. I was not to blame but was being led astray by my big brother.
Like the day he took me out fishing in Clonlea Lake in a leaky boat or mixing with the soldiers who were camped in a field on the Tulla Road.
I cried when he went away to college and I cried with joy when he came home again.Tomás brightened up any company he was in. So much so that when family and friends gathered together after his funeral last Friday, I kept looking around to see where he was.
I thought he would live forever. At least I thought he would live well into his 80s or 90s. People say he passed away in the easiest of ways – in his sleep. Perhaps that is so but I would prefer if he had waited another 10 or 20 years. I would not have liked to see him waste away in a wheelchair or tied to a bed. But I would have liked to have had some warning so that I could be better prepared for his death.
Faith is a great comfort at this time. I envy those who have faith like Tomás had. I wish I could believe that we will be reunited after I pass away.
All my brothers and sisters also have a strong faith and sincerely believe that Tomás is now happy, having joined his beloved wife Eithne, who died 17 years ago.
It would be a great comfort to me also now if I could believe that we’ll meet again. I try to believe it, knowing that faith is such a great strength in troubled times. Over the past week I have even sometimes prayed to God, asking him, if he is there at all, to give me the faith to believe. It would help me a lot to ease the pain if I thought there was some hope of eventually being together for eternity.
Leaba i measc na naomh go raibh aige.
We also mourn the death of Brian Lenihan, whose passing at such a young age shocked most of the country. As Minister for Finance during the deepest recession we have ever had, he had the toughest job in Ireland.
When he learned of his illness 18 months ago, Brian could so easily have walked away and let someone else bear the burden. He was not going to get any thanks for his efforts to repair the damage done to Ireland’s economy by the greed of others.
But being another true patriot, he bravely put his country first and carried on as if there was no problem.
I am proud and privileged to have known him. May he too rest in peace.