My father’s pattern of phoning me is sporadic; I know before I answer an incoming call from him that its main purpose is to inform me of the only two things that actually are regular and expected in life: new beginnings, and death.
He is left with little option but to call me for such disclosures as I reside in Dublin, a distance of around 290km or a three-hour drive away from him; a journey I dislike embarking upon, but has a destination that makes it worthwhile.
Joining me in the capital is the first car I’ve ever owned, which I bought before Christmas 2020.
Rural transport woes
When I didn’t have my current car and before I moved to the ‘bright city lights’, I relied on either borrowing my long-suffering mother’s car, or public transport – the former not being the most favourable of options for her, the latter not being the most favourable of options for me, due to the nature of living in rural/regional Ireland.
The closest public transport station to my homestead in Co. Kerry is Farranfore where, for several years, I took the bus to Limerick city to return to college on a Sunday evening; the train to Tralee for part-time jobs; or waited for lifts from friends to go on nights out in Killarney.
The bus stop in Farranfore is quite interesting, I feel. To start with, there is no shelter available – unless you decide to peruse the shampoo and antihistamines on offer in the pharmacy a few feet away. But then, of course, you run the risk of missing the bus and there are only so many shampoo bottles to read as you wait an hour or more for the next bus to arrive.
It was usually my father who would drop me to that bus stop and it certainly wasn’t often he had the heart to leave me waiting there, sitting on the nearest wall. But when I did wait without him, I was rarely waiting alone.
A mart man waiting for a lift
Going back to my father’s most recent phonecall – it brought me back to the days of waiting at that bus stop with my father in his jeep, and the times I spent sitting on that wall talking to others as they also waited to begin or resume their journeys.
“Do you remember the gentleman we would see when we were waiting, he would be waiting for someone to stop and give him a lift, always holding a stick in his hand?” my father asked me on the phonecall.
“Yes,” I said, “and he always managed to get a lift”.
The gentleman’s name is Darren Griffin, from Castlemaine. His funeral took place on Friday, August 6, having sadly passed away suddenly at his home the previous Tuesday.
Darren is predeceased by his mother, Mary, and is sadly missed and lovingly remembered by his father Tim, brothers and sisters: Anne; Patsy; Johnny; Timmy; Michael; Patrick; Geraldine; Jacqueline; and Simon, along with brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, uncles, nieces, nephews, relatives, neighbours and friends.
Many people from Kerry and even further afield helped Darren on his journeys from time to time, and there were equally, if not more, helped along by him.
A part of Castleisland mart
Darren was well-known from his presence at and contribution to Castleisland Co-op Livestock Mart.
My father, along with many others, remember him fondly from the mart, as he helped with penning cattle and whatnot.
“He had a great head for numbers and sorting cattle. He was a very obliging gentleman helping out, and a gentle soul,” those working in Castleisland mart told me.
“Nobody ever left him on the road. People had the utmost respect for him. He was never left behind; they always brought him along with them. He’d come into the mart in Castleisland and Dingle and he was so respected.
“He was a part of the mart, he really was. That was his life.”
Among the many who signed the condolence book for Darren on RIP.ie is a buyer at the mart who gave his sincere sympathies to the Griffin family, adding: “I was shocked to hear of his untimely passing as I said good luck to him leaving Castleisland mart on Monday. Darren often penned calves for me and my father.”
Others, particularly locals, left tributes to Darren describing him as a “true gent” and that they’d “miss meeting him on the street on mart day”.
Some even mentioned the times they helped him on his journeys, with one saying he “often gave him a spin on my way from Cork to Dingle mart”.
Martin Joyce of Leinster Livestock, who also gave his condolences, added that he was “only chatting to him the other day. He was a great man for a bit of news on who was buying and selling cattle in the marts of Kerry”.
May Darren Griffin rest in peace.
Coming to the end of a journey
The online mart system during the pandemic has, for the purpose it has served for trade, been a success.
But what lacked in the majority of cases was the social and human element of attending a mart, meeting familiar faces and sharing stories.
Unfortunately, there are people who are now gone that we thought post-pandemic we would meet at least one more time at the mart, or the pub, on the village street, or at the bus stop again, but never did.
Everyone comes to the end of their journey at some stage, but it’s important to remember that the smallest act of kindness can touch another’s life and be remembered long after we are all gone.