The Message: We too can play our part

Over the past fortnight, a dark shadow descended over Hot Press. As anyone who was around during the early days of the magazine in particular will understand, it was almost impossible to take on board the news that Mary Stokes (nee Gogarty), life partner of Dermot Stokes, had died.

From the outset Mary was more than just a great friend to Hot Press. On occasion she was a life-saver. Indeed, there were times when she seemed like a one-woman embodiment of the old Irish idea of meitheal. Nothing we asked her to do was ever too much – and she never looked for anything in return.

She was a prime mover in making the food for 100 people at the launch of the magazine, back in 1977. She did the same for the tenth anniversary party, only this time for 1,000. Along the way when money was needed, she pitched in. She was always there to help.

As recently as The Music Show 2012, she did a turn, helping to bring everything together during the final week, in a spirit of wanting to make sure that no lace remained untied before the doors opened. And throughout all of these adventures, she maintained her good humour and generosity of spirit to an extent that was genuinely extraordinary.

Mary had been battling with cancer for over five years. It is a brutal illness. Sometimes, it's possible for a patient to recover from a gruelling bout and to regain his or her long-term health. But cancer is unpredictable and, depending on where it gets a foothold in the body, can be a cruel and implacable enemy. And so it proved in Mary’s case. She fought the illness with great courage and the unshakeable positivity that was such a powerful and inspiring part of her character. There were periods when it seemed that the cancer might have been kept at bay. During those years, she and Dermot enjoyed some fantastically happy times together.

But it crept up again, and again, until all of Mary’s reserves had been drained. “Fuck the luck of it,” she would say, in the knowledge that she had not been able to shake it off fully. And she would laugh ruefully. It wasn’t fair. And it isn’t. But all you can do is play the cards that are dealt you, as best you can.

When the illness first hit her and she recognised that her time in this world might be more finite than she – and than we – had ever imagined, Mary decided to donate her body to science. That decision was typical of her in one important respect. Mary was an enormously unselfish person. Anything she could do to help other people she did – with a heart and a half. In this instance, she was generous not just to the end, but beyond it, travelling that extra, final mile to do the good thing, the right thing, in the hope that her gift might help someone else – whether a student, a doctor or a patient – no matter how far off in the future.

And so there was no funeral, or not in the conventional sense anyway. Instead, friends and family gathered in the Royal College of Physicians, to remember Mary and the powerful and enduring contribution that she made to all of our lives, in different ways.

There were songs and music. Mary’s niece Sophie opened beautifully with ‘Let It Be’: “When I find myself in times of trouble/ Mother Mary comes to me/ Speaking words of wisdom/ Let it be, let it be.” My sister Mary delivered two gorgeous verses of ‘My Lagan Love’. I had the privilege of singing a song written by Dermot about the first flush of his love for Mary, ‘Singing As I Go’. Our old compadré in Eyeless and The Brothers, Garry O Briain, played a beautiful lament on the mandocello. And at different stages during the celebration, ‘Brown Eyed Girl’, ‘Talk To Me Of Mendocino’ and ‘The Wind Cries Mary’ were accompanied by superb photomontages of Mary from down all the days. As we filed out of the room, the great Warren Zevon’s last song, ‘Keep Me In Your Heart For A While’, was playing...

A dozen people spoke, recalling different aspects of a life lived to the full – though not at all in the self-centred sense in which that phrase is sometimes used. Instead, what emerged, from all of the recollections was that Mary had a unique gift for making and maintaining friendships, of a kind which really made a difference to other people’s lives.

She was a great cook, and so the kitchen in her family home, with Dermot and their children Fiachra and Connla, became a refuge for what were dubbed ‘the kitchen dwellers’ – friends and acquaintances, especially of the kids, who called in to raid the fridge, hang around for dinner, wolf down the brilliant desserts that were a specialty and generally imbibe of the warmth and hospitality that was always on offer there, under Mary’s guiding presence.

This gift of friendship she extended to all of the members of the greater Stokes clan, never missing a birthday, always going to see kids in their school concerts, encouraging others to pursue their creative and artistic ambitions and generally being supportive to an extent that was out of this world.

And, as her colleagues recalled, she was the same in her work as a Guidance Counsellor in Ballsbridge VEC, always putting the needs of the students first and providing all of the assistance necessary to ensure that they had the best possible chance of turning their studies to practical advantage, in the world of further education, careers and work.

We heard about Mary’s hillwalking exploits, including in the Karakoram mountains in Pakistan. About her love of books, films, music and art. About her involvement in community initiatives – from establishing the first crèche in UCD back in the 1970s, through to running street parties and other community focused events in Ranelagh. And about her decision to join the Labour Party and to campaign on the basis of their stance on the X case.

Mary’s attitude was: I may not be able to change the world but I can play my part in making a difference. And she did.

The celebration of Mary’s life was organised in a secular place for good reason. Mary was the same age as me. My wonderful brother, her partner in life, Dermot, is a couple of years our senior. He was the first among us to begin to confront the big questions – about who we are, what we are doing in this world and how we might best negotiate our path through it in a way that would really make sense to us.

Dermot led the way – but in the end, we were all faced with those same questions, and we were determined to answer them as truthfully, as unflinchingly and as completely as we could.

And so, along with Dermot, Mary shared the conviction that it is not enough merely to replicate, or to follow, what is handed down to us as a way of understanding the world – whether in religious, philosophical or political terms. One of the most important challenges we can take on, as human beings, is to start again from scratch, to question all of the old assumptions, to think things through, and finally to take full responsibility ourselves, for the way in which we define our relationship with the world, and with the people with whom we share it.

That is what Mary did. And, having done so, she resolved to leave the trappings of religion and everything that went with it historically in Ireland behind.

Mary believed that, rather than imagining that any one notion of God, or another, can provide the answers, we must look instead to our integrity as human beings, and find within ourselves the capacity for goodness, for decency, for kindness, for justice, and for deep and transcendent love...

And so it was entirely appropriate that, rather than in a church, a synagogue or a mosque, the celebration of her life took place in the College of Physicians – an institution, where, at its best, science and reason are harnessed for the good of ordinary people.

The occasion was also an opportunity to celebrate the values that mattered to Mary – and how she bore witness to them in her daily life.

Everything that Mary did was inspired by her belief in the importance of love, of family, of extended family, of friendship, of generosity towards others, of community, of creativity, of learning.

But also, in political terms, of comradeship, of solidarity, of openness, of tolerance, of supportiveness and of – in the truest meaning of the word – egalitarianism. Throughout her life she fought for real and lasting equality – not just between the sexes, though that was hugely important to Mary as a participant in the Women’s Movement, but between all of the people who end up, by whatever means, on this small island of ours.

Mary embodied all of these qualities and principles – and more – in a way that is an example to us all. She truly was a remarkable and a beautiful person. As her good friend Meb Berney said in her closing comments, above all she brought joy with her, in abundance, to everyone who was lucky enough to cross her path. We will never forget.