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I got the time off to go to Stephen Gately's funeral - they realised how important it was to me to go and didn't object. And so I travelled the 40 minutes into Dublin City on the LUAS and walked through an area of Dublin I generally try to rigidly avoid (Sheriff Street) where Stephen grew up on the way to get to the chuch just up from there on Seville Street. As expected, the occasion was rather sombre. Upon arriving I managed to get a place right at the barrier and listened to the mass from the Tannoys all around. There was quite a sizeable turn out, many of whom were locals.
It was saddening walking up to the chuch - in order to get there I had to walk past the primary school he went to up towards the chuch where he made his Confirmation, and now his funeral. On the way I was thinking about how very often he would have walked these streets, running home from school excited after performing in a play or singing and then after his Confirmation, the joy and anticipation he must have felt going up and down this road. Walking back down that same road on the way home after his Boyzone audition wondering what the future held. He'll never to be able to create more of these memories, and it pains me to refer to him in the past tense. He should still be here, it's not right without him.
The most touching thing I saw at the funeral was an auld Dublin man, probably in his 50's, with a really strong inner city Dublin accent, place an Ireland jersey on the barrier and claiming that it was "for Stephen from Boyzone, it's for him." It was blatantly apparent that this guy wasn't a Boyzone fan, you wouldn't find him down the front of one of their concerts, but like many other Dubliners - particularly myself and other Dubliners from working class areas, he considered Stephen one of his own. This, coupled with the thoughts of Stephen roaming these streets, set off the water works.
Tears flowed and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I brought black sunglasses (I was expecting to be teary, but not to this extent) in a failed attempt to hide my weeping. The tears were streaming down my face - it couldn't have been more obvious. Then when Ronan read the eulogy, and began crying during it that hit me pretty hard. Everything seemed to take on some sense of morbidity. I saw young children across the road, probably the same age as me when I discovered Boyzone, and realised they'd never have Stephen Gately in their lives. They'd never truely understood why he was so important to so many people.
When Ronan began singing it felt like the Danube was trying to escape from my eyes. It was so painful, so difficult. I couldn't look anywhere - everything made me cry. I knew Stephen been down these streets many times, and that he'd have never ever suspected that only at the age of 33 his funeral would be held here. Cue more rapturous crying.
When the funeral ended the hearse past by us with "OUR STEO" as the flowers at the side of his coffin, and white roses were thrown as a mark of respect. I bet Stephen never imagined his funeral day would be like that. Shortly after the hearse Stephen's family followed, then each individual member of Boyzone's cars. Understandably Ronan sat in the back of his car shying away from the gazing public, Keith sat in the front passenger seat of his car, as did Louis Walsh, who was then followed by each member of Westlife. They were a few inches away from me, I should've felt some excitement but I didn't. Yeah, so they're famous, but they're not Stephen Gately and they never will be. I had a permanent lump in my throat for the rest of the day.
I'm still sort of numb to this all. It seems so surreal. This shouldn't have happened, Stephen should still be here with us setting an example for the kids from Sheriff Street, talking to adoring fans and enjoying the essence of his young life. I really do feel like I've lost a close family member and that this is something I'll never get over. It just doesn't make sense to me that he's gone, it never will.
depressed
anxious
accomplished
complacent
contemplative
cranky
