For Niall

My friend Niall's funeral was at 2.00 pm, just 20 minutes in the chapel at the crematorium in Glasnevin. A few of us gathered before that at the hospital mortuary to pay our last respects, which was all a bit tearful. I don't know what word to use to describe what happened at the crematorium, since it certainly wasn't a 'service', and there was no religious aspect to it at all. Instead, we were greeted with a selection of some of Niall's favourite songs, finishing with Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. Niall's partner and his sister each said a few words, and the whole thing reduced us in turns to laughter and tears. The worst moment for me was when the two layers of curtains, behind which we'd been able to see the coffin, closed. The finality of this simple act was all a bit too much.

The Merrion Inn pub is right beside the apartment complex where Niall lived, so it was only right and proper that we retire there afterwards for soup and sandwiches. The crowd gradually thinned out as the afternoon and evening wore on, and reminisces of Niall inevitably increased as the numbers dwindled. At the end of it all, the only ones left were Carl and me and Niall's sister and her partner. Carl and I got the bus to his place, had a bite to eat, spoke with friends in Budapest who were part of the Grand Prix lunch tradition, and finally wound things up around midnight.

A sad day, after which it's still desperately difficult to credit that Niall is gone.