“The memories are always there. The hurt is always there”

TWENTY-FIVE years of tears and still eyes refused to dry as those bereaved by the Stardust fire gathered to remember lost loved ones at a special anniversary mass.

"It was beautiful but it doesn't help the pain," said Christine Keegan, who wept quietly for lost daughters, Mary, aged 19, and Martina, aged 16. "The memories are always there. The hurt is always there."

For Mick and Peggy Ffrench, who lost their son, Michael, aged 18, the annual journey to their old parish and former church for the yearly memorial service has added poignancy.

Michael's remains were not formally identified, his burial place is uncertain and he has no headstone. A small brass plaque bearing his name that his parents had fitted to a pew in a corner of St Joseph's Church is the only hallowed place where his name is inscribed.

"It was the church where he had his communion and confirmation," said Mick. "We like to be there to sit by his name and know he's in some way acknowledged outside of us, his family."

For the hundreds who came to St Joseph's in Coolock, Dublin to remember the 48 young people who died in the Stardust disco fire of February 14, 1981, the mass was not just about acknowledgment of their lost loved ones but also recognition of their own pain.

Father Kevin Moore said the suffering of the bereaved was as evident 25 years on as it was the day the tragedy struck. "In this parish and in the wider area there was probably no family that in some way was not touched. Some families, their lives were torn apart.

One family lost three members. Some families had loved ones seriously injured.

"In some cases families had to cope both with the loss of a loved one and severe injury to another. So many people knew that the collective loss and injury was so deep, as to be beyond imagining.

"It was a terrible, awful and frightening tragedy. It should never have happened. Life has moved on, people have moved on but on a day like today, one could be forgiven for thinking nothing has moved on because the sense of loss is so great."

Fr Moore led priests from three parishes in the emotional service, during which prayers and poems were read by family and friends of the dead.

In a moving tribute, 48 red candles were lit on the altar, each one carefully placed in line while the name of the young person it represented was read out. One white candle was also lit to represent survivors, bereaved and those in the community who sought to comfort them.

Special mention was also made of local woman Bridie Coyne, who many consider the 49th victim of the Stardust, when she suffered a fatal heart attack after an agonising night searching for her children, not knowing they had survived the inferno.

A small number of politicians Fianna Fáil TDs Michael Woods and Sean Haughey, Labour's Tommy Broughan and Independent Finian McGrath discreetly attended the service, and there was special welcome for Christy Moore, who was brought before the courts in the 1980s after recording a controversial song, They Never Came Home, which he wrote for the victims.

Afterwards, the congregation walked across the road to the Stardust Memorial Park, where a simple wreath of fresh flowers and roses carrying the message "Sadly Missed" was laid at the memorial sculpture fountain that honours the dead.

As the sprays of gently arching water were switched on in the normally still pond, 48 white birds were released to soar across the wintry grey sky.

The choice of homing pigeons made for a symbolically sad yet hopeful gesture, the families safe in the knowledge that the creatures would return home, a happy ending denied their own children.

"It was lovely," said Bridget McDermott, who came to the service in memory of her sons, Willie and George, and daughter, Marcella, who all died in the fire. "I felt their presence. I felt they were with us."

Along with the sorrow, however, there was anger as locals recalled the many unanswered questions about the tragedy and the bereaved families' current struggle to secure a fresh inquiry.

Catherine Darling survived the fire but lost friends and saw her community devastated by heartache. "What about them?" she nodded towards the ageing parents bending to straighten the ribbon on the wreath or standing in silent reflection by the sculpture of dancing youngsters.

"They have to fight just to be heard. Surely after 25 years they deserve some answers, some closure."