For the final time, they came out onto the streets for Noah Donohoe.
The people of north Belfast had searched for him and then grieved for him; now they applauded him as the hearse bearing his coffin drove the slow half-mile from St Patrick’s Church on Donegall Street onto the Antrim Road and Noah’s school, St Malachy’s College.
The shops were shuttered; on a construction site, builders stopped work and stood by the side of the road in their high-visibility vests. At a nursing home, carers watched as the cortege passed, led by motorbikes driven by volunteers from the Community Rescue Service, who had searched for Noah. Some of the several thousand present released balloons and others laid white roses on the pavement in tribute.
“He was in everyone’s hearts,” explained Anne-Marie Laverty from north Belfast, who had come with her husband John to pay their respects; her nephews and neighbours had been among those who joined in the search effort. “Everyone in the area was so worried about him, and he was so young, so innocent. This is a real accolade for him.”
Disappearance
For six days, Noah was missing. He was last seen on the evening of Sunday, June 21st, in Northwood Road in north Belfast, where he had cycled the 4km from his home in the south of the city.
The police said they believed he may have fallen off his bicycle and hit his head; he was then seen discarding his clothing and cycling, actions which both they and Noah’s family said were “completely out of character”.
His disappearance prompted a massive search by police, community rescue volunteers and members of the public; on Saturday morning came the discovery everyone was dreading. Noah’s body had been found in a storm drain; there was, the police said, “no evidence to suggest foul play”.
Yesterday morning the images of a smiling Noah which had become familiar to everyone in Belfast during the days of the search were pinned to the railings of St Patrick’s Church ahead of his funeral. “Rest in peace Noah,” the message read.
When the hearse arrived, the framed photograph placed beside the white coffin was equally recognisable; Noah and his mum, Fiona, hugging, their heads pressed tightly together, arms around each other, as they smiled out at the camera, as close as a mother and son could be.
As she entered the church, flanked by her sisters and nieces, her face was white, the depth of her loss etched on her features.
It was to her words Fr Michael McGarrity returned in his homily, words spoken the day after her son’s body was found which he said had stayed with him.
“I have been so blessed,” she said. “Noah was a beautiful soul with a beautiful mind. He poured a whole life time of love into my life in 14 short years.”
Noah was loved, and had also loved in his turn; he was, Fr McGarrity said, “the kind of boy who was just full of the joy of living”. On the basketball court, or playing his cello, or having fun with his friends, he “savoured every moment”.
Outside, friends from his former basketball club, Belfast Phoenix, and from his beloved St Malachy’s, formed a guard of honour; tied to the handle of the white coffin was a ribbon in black and green, the St Malachy’s colours.
Restrictions
Only a small number of family and friends could be in the church for Requiem Mass, due to coronavirus restrictions; as it began, Noah’s form class were taking part in a prayer service in his memory.
“Noah loved his school and his friends at school, and we know that they will be grieving too and they need to say goodbye too,” Noah’s family said earlier in the week.
It was to enable students and staff to say those farewells that the cortege took a special detour into the college grounds; as the hearse disappeared through the gate, they could be seen lining the avenue up to the school.
As the applause died down, the crowds waited in silence before the gates now completely covered in flowers and other tributes, with candles huddled on the pavement beneath.
There was an inflatable guitar, a St Malachy’s GAA shirt, a tiny basketball with the words “Noah RIP” written in black marker. And, on a card affixed to a bunch of flowers: “Rest in peace, beautiful boy.”
