Sorry for your trouble

We buried Junior Brannigan on Monday. He was my friend Brazz's dad and I knew him from the terraces of United Park when he brought his grandchidren to the Drogheda United home games. A cold North wind blew across St. Peter's cemetery as the cortege entered and we stood around the gravestones as Junior was laid to rest. I looked around at the faces of those around me. Friends and relatives of Junior down through the years. I recognised many of them despite having been out of the town for 22 years. They were older but still the same deep down. We shared some memories of times gone by as the family received condolences. "Sorry for your trouble" is the standard greeting at a time like this. It's an innocuous salutation but we both know what we mean.

The day before the burial I was in West St. in the town centre at a civic reception with 1,500 other townspeople celebrating the Drogheda United team winning the League of Ireland soccer trophy for the first time in their 44 year history. Many of the same faces were present who turned up for the funeral the following day. When I ask myself what makes living here so different from Sydney it's the totality of the lived experience. One gets to experience joy and sadness, celebration and mourning - life and death - they all make up a part of the daily rich ritual of life.

Junior would have loved to be in West St. to celebrate the Drogs but we were there for him. "Sorry for your trouble".