Michael Ffrench (18), Coolock - ‘His dream was to make life a bit easier for Mam’

The inquests into the deaths of the 48 young people who died in the Stardust fire in Artane, Dublin in 1981 feature pen portraits of each of the deceased by, read by bereaved family members. Find all of the portraits and more coverage here.

Michael was a legend. He was our big brother and our rock.

He loved life and his family and we all loved him. Walking around our community it is heart-warming to hear everyone else who loved and respected him.

There are so many memories of him. Like putting us on his crossbar and cycling to St Anne’s Park on his yellow racer bike that he built himself; bringing us to the adventure playground as a young kid himself; helping with the milk and sandwiches in his school, St John Vianney.

All 48 Stardust deaths the result of unlawful killing

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Michael, being the oldest, was the first to get a job. He was serving his time as an auto electrician. He was very hard working and worked long hours. His dinner often sat on a plate over a hot pot of water ‘till 9 or 10 at night. He was generous with his small wage and was usually the source of any extracurricular activities we did as housekeeping money was very tight.

Michael’s dream was to make life a bit easier for our Mam, both emotionally and financially. He would dance around the kitchen with her to cheer her up. I remember one week he did a lot of overtime in work and got paid £50. He handed it around to all of us saying, “Go on, hold it. It’s half a hundred. That’s a lot of money.”

Michael loved going to the Dandelion Market and we loved when he bought himself Indian oil. It was his signature smell and to this day it still brings me back. He was really into music and loved watching the countdown to number one on Top of the Pops each week.

The memories are vivid of the chaotic devastation and helplessness we lived through following the fire, not knowing, not truly believing. My father was told, “Go to the morgue,” “Go to the hospital” and he would arrive home just to be told, “Go back on the bus and go back to the morgue.”

He was not officially identified. It was like a nightmare that was never ending. This led my mother to have a complete mental breakdown and saw our lives in turmoil again when she spent a long period of time in hospital.

We had to wait 25 years to be told for sure that Michael had died that night. We went through it all again. We were not prepared for the crushing grief following Michael’s coffin up to the altar for a second time.

For him to be taken away from all who loved him has left a void in all our hearts. We love you Michael and miss you every single day.