The acclaimed author, Edna O’Brien, scripted the end to her narrative with precision in her culminating chapter. Imagined like the praise one would find on the back cover of a somber event brochure, the ending could only be described as a work of art. The plot she meticulously devised embodied the full breadth of the canvas – the set, the players she wished to be there, the location of her burial, her reasons for it, the funeral rites to be performed, and who she wanted to officiate them.
Edna’s “final farewell” honored her remarkable and spirited life, always in pursuit of unique ideas and standing tall among the best in thought. Her friend, the accomplished novelist Andrew O’Hagan, echoed this sentiment during his eulogy.
Her concluding episode guided her back to her infancy, back to the little hamlet of Tuamgraney in East Clare. It was the same village where Edna sought her initial steps as a young woman, rebelling against the oppressive demands of a male-dominated church. Years ago, over six decades, local priests reacted against her. Now, the changed perspective of Ireland welcomed her return, more emphatically than ever.
The presence of three pastors, a bishop at the dais, and the Head of the State was apparent. However, nothing exceeded the divine favour that brightened the day of Edna’s final journey. Her coffin traversed the waves under the brilliant sunshine, heading towards her ultimate rest: the Holy Island in Lough Derg. Men passed on her mortal remains over the hill and through to the historic cemetery. It lay next to the final resting place of her mother’s kin, beside the remnants of an old church and a round tower.
Fr Donagh O’Meara, the chief officiator, hinted at the turbulence of Edna’s early years with a touch of drama. He acclaimed her as the “prophet of the truth,” helping us to see Ireland’s restricted past via her storytelling mirror.
Fr O’Meara, the Parish Priest from Miltown Malbay, had previously conducted the funeral of Eileen Blake – Edna’s sister, six years prior. Edna had requested that he perform her own funeral Mass when the time arrived.
Given the history of numerous of Edna’s books being censored due to their provocative exploration of sex and societal issues, the St Joseph’s church congregation was left wondering whether any references to the past would be made. A fact that caused further scandal was that the narratives were penned from a female viewpoint.
According to Fr O’Meara, Edna laid bare the quiet struggles endured by women in that era in Ireland. The cost of her outspokenness was high. He expressed remorse at the society’s and church’s treatment of her – the undermining, isolation and rejection of her message. He said it was something they should feel ashamed of.
In the end, he hoped that Edna had realised her infinite worth in God’s eyes – a sentiment which earned applause from the attendees.
Observing the ardent agreement of even the Bishop of Killaloe, one woman mused upon how unthinkable this would have been just a few years previous.
Also featuring in the service were readings by actor Stephen Rea and Edna’s son, Carlo Gebler, and a poem composed in Edna’s honour by her younger son, Marcus (Sasha) Gebler. The touching rendition of ‘Danny Boy’ by her nephew, Michael Blake, also moved many to tears.
However, the atmosphere was one of celebrating her remarkable life, rather than mourning her death. Edna, who died aged 93, was remembered for her vivacity and potency of love for her sons. She was also fondly remembered for her enjoyable company during evening social events.
Author Andrew O’Hagan reminisced about a moment where, over champagne, Edna had humorously declared Prosecco to be the ‘great enemy’.
Colourful commemorations defined this astonishing life. Grandchild Oscar Gebler brought forward a box housing the shimmering emblem and star associated with the respect of a Dame of the British Empire, as well as her French Legion of Honour and the highest recognition from Aosdána, the golden torc of the Saoi. A photo of Samuel Beckett was tendered by lyricist Sir Tim Rice, whereas film producer Barbara Brocilli offered an edition of Ulysses. To symbolise Edna’s profound spiritual depth, a Buddha was presented, as well as a bouquet of freshly picked red roses from the garden of her familial residence close by.
The quaint chapel, with its modest capacity of around 100 guests, exuded the scent of fresh blossoms and incense. Luxurious arrangements of large, contrasting red and white roses adorned the space. A stunning collection of orchids came with a condolence card from “Van.” A lush arrangement of green, white and orange roses and lilies accompanied another heartfelt message from “Bono and Ali” stating, “There is no end to grief, that’s how we knew there is no end to love.”
Encircling the seagrass casket, placed a family wreath, an opened bible and an exquisite monochrome snapshot of Edna, a masterpiece by Lord Snowdon. Above her on either side, a statue of the Sacred Heart and the Virgin Mary held watch.
It all culminated as the church bell chimed, signalling Marcus and grandchildren Jack, Finn and Euan Gebler to transport the casket toward the hearse for a short ride to Knockaphort Pier and the eventual sea-journey to the Sacred Inis Cealtra Island. The people of Mountshannon, Tuamgraney and Scarrif orchestrated a fleet of boats to convey the attendees to the island, even aiding in organising parking and managing the traffic.
Local males took on the task of preparing the grave. It was quite the active Saturday, not just due to Dame Edna’s funeral. According to hearsay, a relative of JP MacManus was tying the knot at Adare Manor, a grand occasion with helicopters and all.
At 2 o’clock, the boat departed from the quay. It was met by Fr Kieran Blake, the parson of Tuamgraney, on the shore of Holy Island. One of the many friends who travelled from London to bid farewell was Adelheid Gowrie, who had a connection with the author through her late spouse, Lord Grey Gowrie of Dublin – a poet, as well as an ex-art minister in the Conservative party. His late Lordship and the author shared a fondness for Ireland and literature.
Adelheid described Edna as “beautiful and completely enchanting”.
The coffin was borne onto the island, under the unwavering gaze of a few sheep as the funeral cortege proceeded.
Neil Martin, the musician, performed a striking version of Cailín na Gruaige Doinne (The girl of the brown hair) on the Uilleann pipes, beside the grave.
The soft music echoed on the warm Summer breeze, amplified by the view of the glistening lake falling back towards the Ogonelloe Hills with maturing blackberries entwining around the old stonewall that enclosed the grave.
An impressive setting. A breathtaking scenery. An eye-catching vista.
Fr Blake recited a decade of the rosary, followed by former Glenstall Abbey Abbot, Mark Patrick Hederman and Noirin Ní Riain, who sang the Regina Caeli in Gregorian chant.
Then came the sound of the pipes.
Then the quietness, broken only by the chirping of birds and the distant lapping of the waves.
A certain envy of the funeral was felt by many present, if such a sentiment could exist.
Indeed, it was Edna O’Brien’s desired send-off.
Back home, precisely as she had wished.
A well-plotted ending, indeed.
While patiently waiting to sail back, many remarked, “Didn’t she get a splendid day for it?”
Indeed, she did.
The best. And that couldn’t just be chalked up to chance.