I'm lucky, he said, because I know what I have. He had Family.There was the family he was born into and there was the family he made.
He was born on March 4, 1977 in the Lourdes Hospital in Drogheda. Leo Sayer was at number one singing When I Need You. Ireland was a very different place back then.
His Mum knew him first, had carried him within her, held him first, loved him first.
He was a big baby - ten pounds, four ounces - the fourth child, the baby of the family.
There's a cinefilm of him when he's a couple of weeks old, lying in his carrycot; chubby baby arms, legs, cheeks, big blue eyes and waves of dark brown hair. His big brother and two sisters are gathered around him, in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, smiling at the camera like they just got their hands on the keys to a teddy bear factory. In a way, they had. He was a tough little fella - a ruffian of sorts - but always a teddy bear. You had no choice but to love him, to want to hug him and mind him, even though he was more than able to mind himself.
His Dad came up with all kinds of pet names for him - Hannes, Hanny, the Hanner - and when he was a bit bigger, would throw him up into the air and catch him.
This was the family he was born into: five people who were immeasurably proud of everything he was and everything he would become.
There was the Family he made. He said that he and his wife were so close that they were almost one person. Together, they made a little family of their own- three amazing people who called him Daddy or Dad or Dada. Two boys and and a girl: three unique personalities but all of them caring and brave, interested and interesting, intelligent and funny in their own way. In some of their ways like him, in others like their Mum.
He loved his kids fiercely, cherished his time with them; in their earliest days, winding them, changing their nappies, bathing them, holding them close, rocking them gently or pushing their pram.
As they grew, he'd bring them to the park, pushing swings Higher-Higher-Higher into the sky and carrying them home on his shoulders, looking at the world through their eyes. He keenly nurtured their interests: building, baking, fire engines and trains, acting and drumming, rugby and tennis, swimming and gymnastics, St. John's Ambulance, stamps and Star Wars, Frozen and Father Ted and The Big Bang Theory.
He drew the line at arts and crafts.
He was the best father a child could wish for. He was pure magic.
This was the family he created: four people who knew how very lucky they were to love him and be loved by him and have him always on their side.
There were others too that he called Family. Sisters-in-law for who he was a big brother, who loved him and teased him, who cared for him and were cared for by him. There were his parents-in-law and brothers-in-law, he even had grandparents-in-law. There were nephews and nieces, cousins, aunts and uncles. There were countless friends.
He was loved and he loved at all stages of his life.
You were lucky if he loved you because he was pure magic.
Remembering Aindi on his birthday.
Julie Sheridan, Frankfurt