Shane MacThomáis – a personal tribute

LAST week Dublin said goodbye to one of its truly unique characters.

Shane MacThomáis will be remembered by his beloved city as an immensely talented historian, somebody who could bring the past to life with humour, panache and a touch of showmanship.

He was a great storyteller, and wouldn’t let irrelevant truths get in the way of spinning out a good yarn. He loved his work at Glasnevin Cemetery Museum, and the deserved attention, admiration and respect it brought him.

Shane was a charmer and an outrageous flirt, with a dynamite sense of humour that could either put people at ease, or put them in their place.

He enjoyed playing the loveable rogue, but Shane was a wonderfully complicated person with many different sides to his personality.

Profoundly philosophical one day and casually flippant the next, be could be both super cool and confident, and sometimes unintentionally thoughtless and hurtful.

He could be deeply responsible when it didn’t really matter, and totally irresponsible when it did. He would sometimes forget those closest to him but Shane had a good, gentle heart and freely gave total strangers thousands of hours of his time both inside and outside of his work.

Shane was more than a friend to me. He was my little brother, that’s how I loved him, and why I frequently got frustrated with him.

We worked together, schemed together, travelled together, shared things we probably shouldn’t have shared and picked each other up whenever life gave us a kicking.

He would be incredibly supportive and concerned anytime I ran into trouble during our youth and was the funniest person I’ve ever known, with absolutely nothing or anybody out of bounds for his outrageously caustic wit.

We first met as teenagers when he became the youngest member of a gang of misfits and outsiders that I was an elder member of.

I was a breadman back then and I gave him a job helping with deliveries but thankfully, for Dublin history’s sake, he really wasn’t that good and would never have made a career of it.

Shane was an adorable kid, and I always felt he needed minding, even though he grew up into somebody more than capable of taking care of himself.

He totally adored his famous da – broadcaster, author and Irish Republican Eamonn MacThomáis – who was also a legend.

Shane was devastated when Eamonn was taken from him, both unfairly in life and a little too soon in death.

I don’t think Shane ever totally forgave either the justice system or life itself for taking his da away from him, but I’m absolutely sure Eamonn would be immensely proud of the son he left behind.

Shane was as loyal a friend as anybody could wish for, somebody who faithfully stood by my side through thick and thin.

Given the opportunity, he would always defend the downtrodden, the underdog, the oppressed, the outsider, and as a proud Republican, the peaceful progress towards a united Ireland.

He wasn’t a pacifist, and was captivated by the glory of battle and righteous protest, but violence appalled him, and I enjoyed – and endured – many a heated debate with him over coffee or beer about our different take on politics, racism or whatever it was that Shane had decided to feel passionate about that day.

I’ve no great interest in history and didn’t always agree with Shane’s political views but despite that, we remained lifelong friends with a deep, loving respect for each other and what we believed in.

We opened each other’s eyes to the things we loved and our friendship eventually always won out over any difference of opinions, regardless of how strongly they were felt.

He loved a good argument and in our heated debates, sometimes I won and sometimes he did, even when he didn’t really.

In recent times, many of those discussions centred around Shane’s long held desire to end his life.

It wasn’t always that way. I remember he used to see himself ending his days as a cantankerous, eccentric old man, living in a French country village with a mission to make life as miserable as possible for his neighbours, simply for his own pleasure.

But somewhere along the way he lost that vision of a future and being the stubborn man he was, managed to convince himself there was no point in hanging around longer than he felt he had to.

Clearly, he was wrong and while he did sometimes accept that and took steps to change his thinking, it wasn’t enough to change his mind.

It must have taken considerable effort to convince himself we’d get over the hurt, but this pain will burn for a long time to come.

There’s no glory or romance in Shane’s death. It’s unnecessary, it stings our hearts so badly, and it has robbed us of a great, eccentric character who still had bags of potential and talent to go on to even greater things than he had already achieved.

Shane, if you had let us, we would have always loved you, no matter what. And while your decision has devastated those closest to you, we will love you forever.

I know Shane, like myself, wasn’t always the world’s best son, father, brother or partner, but I also know he loved us all as best he could, and would have climbed mountains for his daughter Morgane, the shining light of his life.

Now, we have to adjust to life without his considerable presence. I think we need to remember him, forgive him, celebrate him and take comfort from the good memories. There’s more than enough there to last a lifetime or two.

It’ll take time to come to terms with this, but we’ll get there. May we all live long to remember him.

?¢ Shane MacThomáis is survived by mother Rosaleen, sisters Ã?rla and Melíosa and brother Damien.