People pick their favourite photograph of a relative who has died, and tell us why this image means so much to them, and what it says about the person in it

Noeleen Brennan

THIS PHOTO IS one of the nicest pictures that we have of Noeleen. It captures wonderfully her stunning beauty and also gives a clear sense of the spirit and joy that she possessed within. What makes it even more remarkable is the fact that it portrays nothing of the previous four years’ treatment for cancer, multiple operations and invasive procedures, nor does it give any indication of the fact that she will die a year later, to that very day. Such was Noeleens determination to get on with living, and limit how cancer would interfere, images of her smiling and enjoying herself were regular occurrences.

That evening (October 13th, 2010) we made the all-too-infrequent trip into Dublin city centre to join David McCullagh in the Mansion House to launch his book The Reluctant Taoiseach. The evening started with a lovely Italian meal for two, some fine wine and progressed through the formal book launch to finish with a late night in a local Dawson Street hostelry. It was an extraordinarily enjoyable evening and brought us back to typical evenings experienced in healthier times.

I feel particularly fortunate to have had the opportunity to share so much of my life with Noeleen and also for us to be given the chance to prepare for her pending death. Not only were we able to plan the practical things like her funeral, but also the more important things, including how she wanted me and our children to continue after she was gone. The instructions were clear, issued through conversations and the letters she prepared for those close to her; we were all to get on with living and not dwell in the past or speculate about what might have been.

It provides me and the children with great comfort to know that we can progress through the next phases of our lives, not having to second-guess what Noeleen might have wanted or expected. We can comply with her clear wishes and plan to achieve things that would have her bursting with pride. If there is an ideal way to prepare for death, I believe that we were fortunate to have the opportunity to achieve most of what is required, and that for us has significantly eased the burden of grief and permits us to get on with our lives.

Noeleen is sadly missed but will never be too far away as her beauty and personality are ever-present and evident in our wonderful children. - Tony Brennan

Jack Hennessy

THIS PHOTOGRAPH of my father socialising with his friends from the board of Enniscorthy Credit Union reminds me of several aspects of his life: being involved in the community; chatting and socialising; and his 30 years of voluntary work with the credit union, spurred on by his disdain for the banks’ lending practices and unhelpful attitude to customers (pictured, left to right, are Seamus Comerford, Jack Hennessy, Bill Murphy and Tommy Tyrrell).

My father grew up in economically difficult times, euphemistically recalled as “good old times” by romanticists. He was the youngest of three children, and was aged three when his father died. Economic circumstances prevailed against further education, which he would have been well able for, and he provided amply for us by his hard work and dedication. He gave back to his community by getting involved in many local organisations, which I hope benefited as much from his contribution as he from being involved.

He spent 30 years encouraging people to join the credit union where they were treated with dignity and respect. When I look at this photograph and the people in it with my dad, it reminds me of happy times and I am ever grateful to all his friends in the credit union movement who allowed him to flourish in his 24 years of retirement. I believe his contribution made a difference. - Jack Hennessy

Anthony O'Neill

IN 2006 MY father, Anthony O’Neill, informed me that after not feeling well he had got some blood tests done and the results had just come back. He said that he had been diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukaemia (CLL) but added, on a positive note, that if you are to get cancer it was one of the better ones to have, as most CLL patients survive for five years or more. I was shocked, of course, but I got immense strength from how philosophical he was about it and his only real concern subsequently was that he would not become a burden to others. He also wondered would he be well long enough to do all the things that he wanted to yet do.

As it happened, he survived for almost exactly five years, most of it in reasonable good health and he used that time to the optimum, including much travelling with his beloved partner, Mary, going to night-time classes and listening to music, reading and writing poetry. The very first poem he crafted was the epitaph that was put on my mother’s grave after she passed away, at way too young an age (she was also a victim of the dreaded big C), in 1992: “Love beyond time, Beyond space, Our love was always forever.”

In the years following, he co-wrote two poetry books but in his last few years, knowing time was precious, he wrote prolifically and in late 2010 he achieved one of his abiding ambitions: the publication of his own poetry book. All his family and friends got together for the launch and it was a fantastic occasion, and one which he thoroughly seemed to savour and enjoy. This picture, taken towards the end of that day, captures him beaming full of justified pride with his beloved four grandchildren, each holding a copy of his treasured book, Reason for Being.

My father made his 80th birthday, just, but after being in hospital for a couple of months he was prepared and ready to depart from this world in which he had touched so many others. His death, in hindsight, was not a sad, but rather a happy ending to someone special's life. – Ciaran O'Neill

Rory Fuller

I LOVE THIS photo of my brother Rory as it was taken of him with his first son Séan (now aged eight) in July 2003, when Séan was only weeks old. Rory knew that fatherhood and adulthood had arrived and that never daunted him in any way. He later had a second son Cian (now aged five) and both boys are the image of their father.

This photo was taken at the start of his adult life when Rory genuinely had a plan for what he wanted to achieve in his life. Being a father to Séan and Cian was a big part of that. Rory had become a man and he had the rest of his life ahead of him in this picture.

He spent many hours retracing the activities with his sons that our father had done with us. He always spoke with delight, telling the stories of how he had done the things, visited places and told the same fables with his family that we had done as kids with our father. He was so proud of being a father and enjoyed every second of the time he had with them.

He was diagnosed with skin cancer in 2008 and died December 2010. Although deeply missed by everyone, the impact of his loss on his boys will no doubt be something they carry with them forever. However, they will remember that special time they had with their dad. And when they reach the same stage in their lives as he was here, holding his pride and joy in this photo, their memories of him will carry on to the next generation of his family. - Conor Fuller

Jer Whiteby

MY GRANDDAD’S 19-month battle with terminal lung cancer came to an end on December 13th last year. We first received the devastating blow in May 2010, when we were told that the tumour in granddad’s lung was cancerous. I came home from college and was about to go out to football training when my mother told me. My reaction was more of shock and disbelief than anything else. You try convince yourself everything will be okay but hearing it was gut-wrenching.

I was determined to stay strong for granddad. Later that year, we learnt that the cancer was terminal, and we tried best as we could to prepare ourselves for the outcome. Throughout, granddad never once complained and he never once experienced pain. It is somewhat refreshing to know that he didn’t suffer. The speed at which his condition deteriorated was so tough for us all. His condition worsened rapidly between the late hours of Sunday, December 11th and the afternoon of Tuesday, December 13th.

I will never forget going to see granddad on the Monday afternoon, where we both broke down in tears as we said our final goodbyes. He told me to look after my mom and my family. His voice was very quiet.

Granddad passed away soon after 2pm on the Tuesday, surrounded by his beloved wife, five children and his sister.

This picture was taken during the summer of last year, before I went on a night out with friends in Clonakilty. I regularly called to see nana and granddad before a night out, and would usually be subjected to a few smart comments from granddad. This particular night was no different. However, it was so heart-warming to hear him in such good spirits, particularly when I think about what he was going through.

This is one of the last pictures I have with my dear granddad, and I look at it daily. It reminds me of the good times, and is one of the best memories that I have with granddad. It's only been a few weeks since his passing, and I suppose it does get easier with time. He will never be forgotten by me or many others. – Sharon Whelton

Mary McDonald Lang

THIS IS THE last photo that was taken of my mum. Within a week she suffered a cerebral haemorrhage and after two long days in Beaumont Hospital was pronounced dead. My dad produced this photograph during those two long days. It brought such comfort to me and my family in the aftermath of mum’s passing, and still does.

What I love most about this photo is that she looks so happy. She is full of life, content and blissfully unaware of her fate. It is irrelevant in this moment as she chats animatedly with her older brother Gerard, over a cup of tea.

In our grief she comforted us through this image, an image that captures her as we would like to remember her. The sister who always had time to listen. The wife enjoying a very rare weekend away with her husband. The mother who was calm, loving and caring.

She spent the last weekend of her life in Clifden with my dad visiting her brother’s new house there. The last words I said to my mum were “I love you. Enjoy Clifden,” as she dropped me to the Dart station the previous Wednesday. I was sure she’d still be in Dublin come Saturday. I don’t know how he did it but my dad convinced her to go and my little sister stayed at home.

Last year, the weekend before mum’s first anniversary, we went on a family trip to Clifden. We ate in the little pancake shop that features in the picture and took a photo of us all there. One year on, all alive, all happy, all slowly adjusting to life without Mary.

Mum was no longer with us but I was pregnant. Sadhbh Mary Lawless arrived on November 7th, 2011. I truly believe she is a blessing from my mother and when she asks me who her nana was, this is the photo that I will show her. – Caroline Lang

Bertie Tierney 

THIS PICTURE OF my late father was taken on April 1st, 2011 on his 90th birthday. It was the last time we had all the family gathered, and we had a great day, even getting daddy up on the Dublin Wheel at the O2 venue. The picture is taken with my mother and is one of a series of photographs we took that day of different groupings of the family. It is taken in the conservatory of the family home where daddy and mummy had lived for nearly 30 years since returning from England in the early 1980s.

Although born and raised in Baggot Street, my father moved with my mother to England, like thousands of others, to get a job. He was a GP, and lived at various times in Barnsley, Blackpool and Bath, where I was born. He fulfilled his promise to return to Dublin on his retirement and I clearly remember him finishing his last few patient visits on a Friday, and heading off to Holyhead with the removal van on the Saturday.

I chose this picture because it is the image I have as the screensaver on my mobile phone. It reminds me of how much daddy enjoyed his family around him. He is so happy in the picture, keeping an eye on us all. In a way he drew a line under his life that day.

His health declined very rapidly afterwards, and he left us a few months later. Daddy was an enormous part of every day of my life and my biggest fear is that an hour or a day goes by where I do not think of him. So I put this picture on my phone, and now I see him many times in an hour. Just as I see him I know he sees me. My father died on October 7th, 2011. - Siobhan Tierney

Brendan Kehoe

MY HUSBAND Brendan loved our boys. If he was able to be pregnant, I think we’d have about 10 kids by now. I took this picture on the Dún Laoghaire Pier on St Stephen’s Day of 2008, which I think was the last Christmas we were all healthy as well as not snowed in.

It was a gloriously sunny, calm day, and my parents had sent the boys matching jumpers – this is one of my favourite pictures of them all together. I know it was one of his as well, since he put it as the desktop picture on his laptop. I think it gave him some comfort in hospital when he was able to work, as he wasn’t able to see the boys as much as he wanted while he was getting chemotherapy.

This picture really shows Brendan exactly as he was: comfortable with himself, light-hearted, fun, playing with the boys. We laughed a lot, even while he was in hospital. I loved his crinkly-eyed smile; it melted me every time.

It hurts to know that he won’t ever see the boys with their kids someday, posing for a picture like this. But hopefully Patrick and Eoin will look at it, and remember how much fun he had with them and how much he cherished them, and use that for their template for how to be a father. Having that legacy would make him proud.

Brendan was a wonderful man, a brilliant computer programmer, and the best friend I could have ever had. He died in July 2011 from complications of acute myeloid leukaemia at St Vincent's Hospital in Dublin. - Elana Kehoe

Michel Carré

“LIFE IS about how better you become day after day.” These are the words that have guided me through my whole life. My grandfather has shaped my mind and determination forever. My grandfather built his business after the first World War as a financial and legal adviser in the Auvergne city of Montluçon, France. He has been a model to me. His determination to succeed, his pragmatism and his deep knowledge on economic and political matters have always been a source of inspiration.

Growing up, I have realised how important each of his lessons on life were and how much he has guided me through my own path. I chose this particular picture since this was the first picture ever taken with my grandfather on May 1st, 1982, about a week after I was adopted on April 22nd, 1982. This is one of the only rare pictures I have taken with my grandfather. My fascination towards my grandfather is not only because of how well he did in his professional career, but also how well he did, along with my grandmother, in raising his three sons. He was a true genuine person, with an open heart and was humble, generous and accepting of every new member in the family. He taught me how not to be judgmental towards others, regardless of their background.

Breaking the curiosity or even sometimes the sarcasm of people seeing me, an Asian-looking kid with a French person, my grandfather, like the rest of my family, always considered me as a full genuine member of the family.

Since I left France in 2001, and travelled quite a lot, my grandfather has always been sharing his pride towards every single decision I have taken in my life. And even if these past months have been hard and rocky, until his last days, he supported me. Michel left us on July 29th, 2011 and ever since, I know that his spirit is still by my side. - Denis Carré