Baltimore tragedy: ‘Barry was a hero, willing to die for the love of his life’

A hero, a magnetic presence, even a boy wizard – Barry Davis Ryan was many things, and yesterday he was the central figure in the celebration of a young life cut short and the story of those who helped to bring him home.

Under smudgy drizzle, hundreds gathered at the Sacred Heart Church at Rath, just outside Baltimore, for the funeral service of a 20-year-old who had crammed a lot into those years, building the memories all his family and friends will carry with them.

It was a crowd reflecting town and country, young and old. The family of Niamh O’Connor, his beloved girlfriend, were present, as were members of the RNLI and the Coast Guard and the local diving teams which had contributed so much to the discovery of his body last Friday, almost a week after his father, Barry Snr, and Niamh had been laid to rest.

Barry’s uncle, Danny Kelly, told the congregation inside and outside the church that in Niamh, Barry had found his soul mate. Barry had risked his life to try and save as when she fell into the water that fateful evening of June 30. “Barry found his true love in Niamh, and now they are together forever,” he said.

“They say the good die young,” he reflected, speaking at length about the person Barry was, the young man who had a number of names - small Barry, Barry junior, Barry, and even Baz. “He brought joy, laughter, happiness to everyone,” Danny said. “He was humorous and sociable. He loves, loves his family, and his dear departed dad.”

Danny also referred to Barry’s “special relationship” with his siblings, Arthur and Charlotte, and his adoration for his mother, Ann. For his friends, Barry was at the core of all the fun, the first person to get them chatting to total strangers.

Some of those friends from childhood brought items to the altar which symbolised his life: a Gameboy; his acoustic guitar; a sketch alongside a ball of wool and some knitting needles, reflecting Barry’s ability to create costumes out of very little; a moth in a jar, signalling some of his more illogical fears; a book, celebrating his love of reading – Barry had started to write poetry and had even begun a novel; and a t-shirt, again highlighting his skill with arts and crafts, the name on the t-shirt – ‘the shifty eyed sentinels of truth’ – the name of a now not-so-secret club.

In a way, this funeral service was a way of marking how a tiny part of West Cork became the focal point for a national effort. Danny Kelly thanked the 96 divers who partook in the massive search effort, alongside all those who helped and assisted in many other ways over the past two weeks, and especially local diver John Kearney.

“They were driven by a common desire to return Barry to his family,” mourners were told.

Chief celebrant, Fr Michael Kelleher, said it was rare for someone to give themselves ‘for’ something – in this case, Barry gave himself for love, in his effort to save Niamh from the water. Danny Kelly said: “He loved Niamh, who he died trying to save. Barry, just like his father, was a hero, who without hesitation was willing to die for love.”

Fr Kelleher observed that it was a just a year ago that the Davis Ryan family had gathered to mark the passing of Barry’s grandmother, Hannah. “But that was in the natural order of things,” Fr Kelleher said, unlike this, when a man shy of 21 years had been take away, prompting his family to reorder their future plans. Hannah’s first anniversary is on July 22, and now Barry will be laid to rest alongside her, his father, his uncle and his grandfather.

The mourners included Arthur Ryan, Barry’s grandfather and founder of Penney’s. Workers from the Cork store were present, dressed in black and with name tags, who alongside representatives of Cork Institute of Technology, formed a guard of honour as Barry’s coffin was taken from the Church for burial at nearby Tulla Cemetery.

Fr Kelleher observed the age profile of those present, and it was true: here were the quiffs, first beards and fringes of a younger generation. Barry’s novel and his songs will not now be completed, but there are others to take up the pen, the pick, maybe even the knitting needles, maybe driven in part by his memory.

Barry’s sister Charlotte read aloud a poem written for Barry by his father when Barry was just five or six. In it, Barry is the “little wizard chap” who has adventures “under a blanket sky”, drawing pictures in the stars. How prophetic it seemed now, but Charlotte read it with the smile which is meant to accompany these poems of childhood. Barry’s novel might never be completed, but as this eternal love letter from father to son showed, some things are meant to be written.