A smattering of purple balloons swayed in the wind, tied to the railings of Church of The Immaculate Heart of Mary, Rowlagh in Clondalkin, west Dublin.
This was where the funeral mass of Natasha Smith (43) took place on Friday morning, one week after she was found unresponsive in a tent on Pearse Street in Dublin city centre.
Purple was her favourite colour and mourners from her family wore purple ribbons on their lapels as they filed in behind her simple wooden coffin.
Six male relatives carried her coffin.
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The church was a third full. An image of a smiling Smith, red-haired, and wearing a cosy white turtle neck sweater was projected on to the altar wall.
Clondalkin was her home; where she was from. The year of the banking crash, 2008, was the year Natasha Smith went to live on the streets and where she remained living for the rest of her life, despite concerted efforts by her family to help.
That same family were present in large numbers in the church, including her mother, siblings, in-laws, nieces, nephews and her two sons Lee and Stephen, who all wore black.
Five gifts, arresting in their starkness, were brought to the altar to represent elements of her life: a bottle of Coca Cola, a bag of Starburst sweets, a bottle of Rockshore beer, a crucifix, a Bible.
“She was full of life and very laid back. She was good and kind,” said Fr Hugh Kavanagh, one of two celebrants at the funeral with Fr Soju Thomas. “We look back at all the memories, even the bad times.”
She had faith, he said.
“Holy Mary was there at the end of her life to welcome her to paradise forever.”
Adele’s song, Someone Like You, played during communion. The lyrics, “Don’t forget me, I beg,” echoed through the church.
Two of Natasha Smith’s childhood friends, Leanne Curran and Ashling McEvoy, had written a joint eulogy about their friendship with the person they called “Tasha”.
Ms McEvoy read it aloud to the congregation while Ms Curran stood alongside her in support at the altar.
“I wanted to share some memories of how Tasha lived before the demons of addiction robbed her ... I could write a book of memories of Tasha,” she said.
“Every morning walking to school having our smoke – me, her and a roll-up I robbed on me Da. We were about 10. The days we all spent on skates on the black hill, the summers in the baths, the making of go-karts out of scrap, the steel wheeler bikes ...
“We loved swinging around the pole on ropes but none of us could climb it like Tasha. She would be up that pole like a little monkey in seconds, the rest of us couldn’t even get halfway up. She was so tiny and skinny. When I was thinking back, she was so good at everything: skipping, running, swinging, even walking on the skinny railings and gates,” said Ms McEvoy.
She said that her friend had “a great childhood”.
“I’m so sorry the second half of your young life, you got a raw deal. You deserved better,” she said.
“May you rest your tired body in a more beautiful place, and mind the boys and your family from your warm bed in heaven.”
Smith’s niece, Megan Smith, said of her late aunt: “She told Lee and Stephen that she would do anything for them and they said, we know you would, Ma. Lee and Stephen were her life.”
Her women relatives escorted Natasha “Tasha” Smith out of the church, to Tracy Chapman’s song Across the Lines.
“Who would dare to go/Under the bridge/Over the tracks.”
