Walking to Whitestown

His Greek girlfriend's mother came from Greece.
Two of his friends flew back from Australia for him.
Likewise two of the lads living in Berlin followed their hearts and returned home.
Some took the shorter trip from London.
Some neighbours left their tractors lying idle in the fields for the day, others their paint brushes soaking or their office desks lying idle. My own son called on friends to do his job for him today to enable him attend...and they rallied, as friends should.
Shops closed their doors in respect, farm gates pulled over, jack hammers working Main Street were silenced. Local oncoming traffic pulled in to the kerb as the occupants stepped out to stand and acknowledge the procession.
Danny was not a politician, a well known business man or a celebrity.
He is of a respected family. His friends freely acknowledge he lived his life on the edge. He was an alcoholic in remission. He was trying. Living in a halfway house he had joined a gym with the intention of reforming. Then he accidentally overdosed on heroin....aged 29....but who are we to judge?
Friends, neighbours and family gathered at his parents' home by the harbour and followed the hearse on foot the three miles to his final resting place. His parents, staunch Catholics, who loved their son, had a civil ceremony in the graveyard for their beloved boy. His favourite hip hop music was played..... Tonight we gather for Danny, for his family and for his girlfriend, for his friends. Tonight the bonds of parish strengthen..... We gather strength from our sense and belief in community....just saying