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The autumnal back roads around Creeslough teem with traffic coming from one funeral or wake and going to another. All around people stand outside their homes, hands clasped together, waiting to show they their respect to passing corteges.
On the main street, the Huckleberry cafe nourishes mourners between masses. The till has been replaced with a cardboard box marked “Donations for the Creeslough fund”. “We’re not taking any payment,” the barista says. “Just donations.”
Under the coffee machine a sign declares: “This is our happy place”. But there is a palpable absence of anything resembling happiness here. Just weary resilience and a determination to get through one more day of unfathomable shock and grief.
Neighbours do not nod hello as they pass on the street. They stop and hug each other.
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Shortly before 2pm on Tuesday, the strains of Scotch bagpipes bellowed over the shattered village. A lone piper in plaid and kilt led the second funeral of the day, that of Martin McGill. In Creeslough, he was known as Scotch Martin.
Raised in Kirkintilloch, outside Glasgow, the 49-year-old came back to Co Donegal around 10 years ago to look after his mother, Mary. Others here came to rely on him too.
Martin was known for going to the village’s only shop five, maybe six times a day on errands for neighbours. It was “against the odds” he would not have been there when Friday’s explosion ripped through it, said parish priest Fr John Joe Duffy.
Walking behind the hearse during the two minute route from her home at St Michael’s Terrace to St Michael’s Church, Mary, delicate, petite and sobbing, was physically held up on three sides by her remaining family.
Wreaths against Martin’s coffin spelled out “Son” and “Brother.” Another floral tribute was from “the Donegal community in San Francisco.”
Outside the church, hundreds of mourners, many lining the road, hoods pulled up against the rain or huddled under umbrellas, stood silent for a minute or two after the hearse pulled up. The silence reached into the surrounding mountains, hills and glens and was punctured only by muffled cries and sniffles.
Inside, began the Scottish and Irish folk song Wild Mountain Thyme. The soft drizzle fell relentlessly on the motionless Scots Pines standing sentry over the church.
The congregation led by Mary, Martin’s sisters, nephews and niece, filed in behind his coffin. Behind them included the North’s First Minister designate Michelle O’Neill, Donegal GAA ex-manager Jim McGuinness and aides-de-camp representing both President Michael D Higgins and Taoiseach Micheal Martin.
They were all part of this “coming together… from the very northern to the very southern part of this island of Ireland from east to west” in response to the tragedy, said Fr Duffy.
Turning to Martin’s “loving and beloved mother”, Fr Duffy reassured Mary that her only son was now reunited with his late father Joseph, who only recently died, and “who he missed very much, and whose death was overwhelming” for him.
“But that he had to care for you, his mother and that was the strength that got him through.”
Martin had “a most beautiful soul”, was a “gentle soul, a kind person… a person where you could see the goodness flowing out from him,” said Fr Duffy.
Along with his treasured Celtic FC jersey, a bottle of Lucozade was one of the symbols of his life brought to the altar. He was never seen without a bottle in his hand around the village - it was his “hallmark”.
Martin’s “effervescence” was like a fizzed up bottle of lemonade, said Fr Duffy.
“He was just so caring. The caring flowed out from him.”
A former apprentice joiner, he loved his cars and music. And of course, his team, Celtic, who are to wear black armbands at a Champions League tie in memory of the 10 victims of the Creeslough blast.
The gesture , said Fr Duffy, would have made Martin proud. But he was not certain when the game was on as “I’m not aware of what’s happening in the world outside of Creeslough.”
Before his burial in Doe Cemetery, two anthems brought a close to Martin’s funeral mass: The Fields of Athenry and You’ll Never Walk Alone.
Mourners spilling outside the church hummed along at first, then mouthed the words before joining together quietly to sing along: “Walk on, walk on.. With hope in your heart.. And you’ll never walk alone.”