My Friend Gerard ON a June afternoon, 2004, we laid my friend, Gerard Lavelle, Corclough West, Belmullet, to rest in the hallowed ground of Termoncara Graveyard. His funeral was impressive, a testimony to his popularity among his peers and neighbours. The Belmullet GAA, his friends and family did him proud, carrying his coffin in relays for the last mile of his journey to his final resting place. When the interment was complete no one showed any inclination to leave. Eventually they drifted off, one by one or in small groups. I, myself left alone with a heavy heart. For the first time ever I left a major event in my life without my friend, Gerry. The hurt was enormous. Gerard and I grew up together: I do not remember a time that he was not around, nor do I remember a cross word between us. Our relationship stretched from our toddler days through national school days, secondary and third level education days to the present. June 1st, 2004. Gerard was more than a friend. He was like a brother to me. I tried to be like him, stronger, funnier and faster. He was, without my knowing it at the time, My role Model. We shared everything we had and enjoyed our growing up to the full. We explored our local area and engaged in the sporting and leisure facilities it provided. We marvelled at its nooks and crannies, at the secrets they held and wondered at why they had not been discovered before. They became our secrets and places of refuge. We socialised together, shared farm work and chores and yes, got into mischief together. Gerard was but a young man of twenty four when he departed this world, yet his influence on those around him was considerable. From early days he engaged in school sports at community, county and national level with considerable success. He played football with his schools and local club in all grades and at all stages of competition. His full potential had not yet been reached. My friend, Gerry will be sorely missed. The void left by Gerard's passing is enormous to those of us who knew him well. I can only guess at the enormity of the void left in the lives of his parents, Kathleen and Owen, and his sister Eimear. Any words of mine would be an attempt at expressing the inexpressible. Coming home now is harder for me. It reminds me of all the times we sat in each others houses, sometimes in the small hours of the morning, laughing, joking and telling stories. All that is gone now, gone forever. My friend Gerry is gone now, only the hurt remains. Time, they say, is a great healer; but only time can tell. In the overall plan of things our time here in this world is but a twinkle of an eye and it is our hope that better things are in store for us in the next world. It is my belief that, in the land beyond the horizon, we will all be together again to enjoy each others company in the presence of perfection. Go dti and la sin, a chara dhilis, slan agus beannacht. Ar dheis lamh De go raibh do anam uasal. Colm. Courtesy of the Western People September, 2004 Tweet

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