Brendan O' Meara (23), from Coolock, a cherished friend and brother. He was a skilled darts player, an accomplished Irish dancer, and a lover of fashion.
Pen Portrait 1 - Read by Brendan's niece Suzann O' Meara on behalf of her father Jimmy:
Introduction
Brendan O'Meara was my brother. He was 23 and I was 21 when he died. We had an older brother and sister. Margaret was the eldest, followed by John, then our Brendan, and then me.
Background
Brendan and myself were on the same darts and football teams. He was a brilliant Irish dancer; he was at an international standard. We had the same group of friends, growing up, and a good few of them were killed in that fire. We were all into all the music that was out at that time. My father went to England to work when Mam was pregnant, and he never came back. My mother reared us, and she worked hard all her life. We had no father, but we stuck together.
Brendan wasn't quiet and he wasn't loud either. He would help anybody out in any way he could. He was very obliging and very decent. Nobody had a bad word to say about him. He was a good, honest, and decent fella. He was working as a driver at the time of his death, making deliveries that day. Brendan was awarded for being the best dressed when he was in the army. He never had a hair out of place. Brendan was always spotlessly groomed and wore the best clobber. When I had come home that evening, I had seen that he had got new clobber.
On the night of the fire, Brendan invited me to go with him to the Stardust. He asked me if I was alright for a few bob. I didn’t go with him to the Stardust that night because I was exhausted after work. I had been on the road since half four that morning.
Stardust Fire
In the early hours of the morning, I was asleep on the sofa when I was wakened by two of the other lads. They were all black and covered in cuts. They had a taxi waiting outside. They told me about the fire and then we went to the Stardust in the taxi. The taxi man didn't charge us.
When we got there, we saw bodies covered and brought out on stretchers. People that survived it were outside as well, sitting with blankets. They were all in shock, after seeing it first-hand.
We couldn’t find him there, so we went to all the hospitals. First Jervis Street hospital, then the Mater hospital, then St James’s hospital. We had to come home because we didn't know what else to do at that point except to check if Brendan had come home.
When we got home, Mam was up, and our neighbours were in the house. We decided to go to the city morgue, and we gave his description. We were speaking to a priest first, and then a Guard said that someone who matched his description was over in Jervis Street hospital. I stayed at the morgue and my brother John went to the hospital and came back. It was a relief that we had found our brother.
We went to see him in Jervis Street hospital, and he had black streaks down his back from melted burns. They had him lying on his front in a coma. His face looked sort of sunburnt and I think something had fallen on his leg.
We were taking turns to go up to hospital and then to go to funerals. You would be stood in the graveyard waiting on two or three funerals per day. There were hearses with caskets lined up.
Brendan died 10 days later, on the 25th of February, after they amputated his leg. They were going to take his hand too.
I can't remember my own brother’s funeral. I think there were some army men at the Mass. I only remember smidgens at the graveside and can't remember where we went afterwards.
Since then
My Mam, Bridget, would still set the table for Brendan, even after he had died. It was very upsetting, as the terrible reality would, then, hit her again. I still feel so helpless thinking of him lying in hospital on his front. The thought of him lying there, so heavily sedated. It's like it's tattooed onto my brain. It's so plain to see and it’s so vivid. It's a vision that will never leave me.
I felt survivor’s guilt. You blame yourself. We would have escaped together if I'd been there. You’d have to experience that to know how it makes you feel. It stayed with me for years and years and I still have that burden to this day. It's just that everyone was so young there. There were a lot of teenagers. It's hard when anyone goes but the lads that I knew that died were only 20 or 21 years old. There were a good few girls too, like Paula Byrne. It's hard to take in the reality that you're not going to see them again. I took it hard at the time. I was drinking. It was a very lonely time.
I still think about Brendan every day. I have three girls and two boys. My youngest girl, Becky, is the image of my brother, Brendan. I often think about what we would be up to now. I'd say Brendan would have been a brilliant father.
Conclusion
I have been dreading the start of these inquests because we have been hurt and disappointed repeatedly. It’s painful to do this. You think to yourself, 'what’s the point in putting yourself through it? Are we going to be let down yet again?’. We need answers.
Brendan O’Meara Pen Portrait 2
– read by his sister Margaret Smith with contributions from her brother John O'Meara
Margaret:
Apart from all the treasured childhood memories engraved in my heart of my beloved brother Brendan, I could never have imagined the support he showed me when I had my own children.
Brendan became part of my own family's everyday lives. He always arranged his lunch hour to be free to collect my young children from school or mind my baby while I collected them.
My husband was in the army and if he had to do 24 hours guard duty or if he was confined to barracks, Brendan would stay in my house to mind us.
He served time in the motor squadron himself and achieved 'best soldier award' because of his meticulous appearance. Brendan was a very handsome young man and was always the best dressed in our family. He used to get his suits dry cleaned weekly, and when he collected them, he'd iron the little crease which the hanger left on the leg of his trousers and leave them lying flat until he wore them.
When he did go out socialising, you could smell his scent of aftershave nearly an hour after he had left.
Unfortunately, the Stardust fire robbed us of our wonderful, exceptional, selfless brother. Our lives have never been fulfilled without Brendan's presence. My daughter made her communion in 1981
and to this very day I have no recollection of this once-in-a-lifetime event because forty-two years ago our family lives were changed forever.
My children were deprived of sharing their lives with their Uncle Brendan and making their own memories with him. We relive the heartache of losing Brendan, not only on the Stardust anniversary, but on a daily basis.
John:
To his brother John, Brendan was his buddy as well as being his brother, because there wasn't much between their ages, and they always maintained a great relationship between them.
Brendan's favourite sport was darts, as was John’s, and they played for their local pub. Brendan was a very good player and was a very popular fella with all the lads. He was their anchor-man on the team; that means that they kept him back near the end of the game, because they could always depend on him winning.
And of course, after each game they always had a sing- song. Brendan loved the ballads, and he got it going with his favourite song "fiddler's green", it would be the same song every week, so everybody joined in because they all knew the words. John has some great memories of those dart nights, and he misses Brendan very much still.
He looks back on photos, as Brendan was then, he was only 23 years old when John lost him, and he wonders how he would look today.
John looks at himself now, he is in his 60's and has grey hair and he thinks, yes, Brendan would probably look just like him.
John still talks to Brendan at his graveside and tells him he treasures all his memories he has of him.
Forever In All Our Hearts
Our Beloved Brother Brendan
