This contribution was given by Éamon at the celebration in Clontarf Castle on 6 September 2019.
One of the questions people naturally ask is, what happened? As the person there, I want to tell you.
Rita loved to come to Valencia. She loved the weather, the city, the beach, the shops and markets. She also loved to spend time with me, and to meet my friends and had a lasting impression on many of them.
We had been planning this trip for a while, but there had been a number of setbacks, including a fall and breaking her hip in June. But after a great recovery, her doctor told her she was one of her success stories, and the trip was finalised. She wouldn’t normally come in August, but she had to have the tan for Enda’s wedding.
During the recovery from her hip, while Sharon was in Spain, I stayed with Rita in Ennis, and am so glad to have been able to spend 3 lovely weeks with her so recently. Enda went to visit her the weekend before her trip, and they went out to dinner. She told me afterwards how much she had enjoyed his time with her.
The night before travel she stayed with her sister, Carmel, and Eileen came over and they had dinner together. After she got to the airport she sent me the last text I received from her.
Eileen left me Airport. Early afternoon suited her best. Had my assistance via a luvly young man: A real Dub. From Coolock. Bleeped going through security. Seems ’twas hip!
Because of her hip, we had arranged wheelchair assistance.
My friend Patricia was on the flight. She didn’t know Rita was my mother but arrived at the departure gate as the lift arrived for Rita and the real Dub from Coolock. Rita was full of chat to the wheelchair assistant and Patricia thought she looked so well with her hair done.
We are still not sure of exactly what happened on the flight. And we will find out. But she had difficulties before leaving Dublin and paramedics were called, delaying the flight.
After take-off, Patricia asked the flight attendant if the woman who had the incident was ok. She was told that yes, she’d been cleared to travel, and had said, and these are Rita’s last words as reported to me, ‘I want to go to Valencia’.
In Valencia, as soon as she arrived in the wheelchair I knew there was a serious problem. She was unresponsive and didn’t react to me at all. We went to first aid and called an ambulance, and she was rushed to a nearby hospital. It became clear pretty soon that it had been a brain haemorrhage, and that nothing could be done. The staff dealt with me with empathy and compassion. I called Clara, Sharon and Enda throughout the night. Rita and I were put in a private room and I held her hand and spoke to her as her body gradually accepted what had already happened in her brain.
I know she didn’t suffer. I know she wasn’t conscious of anything as the medical emergency swirled around her. She got on a flight full of hope and expectation. She wanted to go to Valencia. And in that happy state, something happened, and she was gone.
After that, I was surrounded by love and support. My friends rallied around, food arrived, cars were offered. And this support was extended to Sharon and Enda after they arrived.
I had expected the cremation to be an ordeal, it was right across town in an industrial area, it was 5pm on a Monday when many teachers were back on their first day after the summer.
We arrived early to see Rita and say goodbye. Sharon and Enda had brought photos, flowers and drawings from her beloved grandkids. I gave them time with Rita as they did this, and when I went back it was so beautiful to see her lying there surrounded by all these mementoes of a life well-lived.
And at 5 to 5, the door opened and it was like the cavalry had arrived as my friends streamed through the door. Many were there for me. But many too for the independent relationships they had formed with Rita. As one friend said, you had one conversation with Rita and afterwards, you made life-changing decisions.
A friend sang beautifully and Rita would have loved it. In the heat of Spain, in an industrial suburb, we had a proper Irish funeral.
After we got the ashes, and after some bureaucratic emergency taxi chases across the city, on Wednesday night, Sharon, Enda and I went to one of Rita’s favourite restaurants on the beach. Afterwards, we went onto the beach. We had brought a little of Rita’s ashes. It was a week to the hour since her plane touched down. And exactly where we got to the sea she loved, on the beach she loved, someone had drawn a love heart. And Enda wrote ‘Rita’ inside it. And we went into the sea and scattered the little portion of ashes. So now she will always have a toe dipped in the Mediterranean sea.
As I reflected on that tough week. I remembered thinking, during that Spanish mass in the crematorium chapel with an unknown priest talking about RRRRRita, I thought, you know, she always loved the drama.
Leave a Reply