Sir, – The year 2016 has seen the passing of some immensely talented singers, writers, comedians and broadcasters. I bought a copy of Anthony Cronin's novel The Life of Riley three weeks before he died. I watched Debbie Reynolds in that iconic scene from Singing in the Rain just two days before she died. I always liked the haunting music of Leonard Cohen. Alan Rickman gave a first-class performance, I thought, in the Michael Collins film.
Such a loss these and others are to their professions and to humanity.
But I can’t help feeling that the attention given to celebrities in death, as in life, can completely overshadow the lives of the people who pass away with scarcely a word written or broadcast about them.
I’ve just received the local parish newsletter and I’ve read through a long list of people who died during the year: all precious human beings to their friends and loved ones, and each death a staggering loss.
Each one of the names on the “departure list”, if I may call it that, means the world to at least one other person. He or she is a star, shining brightly in remembrance as surely as any of the ones that light up a crisp winter’s sky.
Life is so precious and so vulnerable that surely everyone’s stint on this planet is worthy of celebration, even if one hasn’t achieved celebrity status as categorised by those who define such things. – Yours, etc,
JOHN FITZGERALD,
Callan, Co Kilkenny.