IF SOMEONE HAD said would you still be grieving for someone after 28 years, I’d have thought, time heals. But it’s still very vivid in my mind.
Those are the words of Stella Robinson, who lost both of her parents in the Enniskillen bombing in 1987.
Robinson’s story is one of many released by Northern Irish victim support organisation, Wave Trauma Centre, last night as part of its Stories From Silence project.
The most recent phase of the audio project, which gives a voice to victims of the Troubles, included 18 interviews with people whose parents were killed.
“Victims and survivors are told by politicians almost on a daily basis that their needs must be at the centre of any attempt to take us forward,” said Wave project manager, Alan McBride.
“But the reality is that they have seen precious little acknowledgement or recognition of what happened to them and the effect it had.
These powerful testimonies literally give victims and survivors a voice to reaffirm their humanity.
Here are some of their stories, as told in interviews with journalist Susan McKay:
Shauna Moreland
Shauna Moreland was just 10 years old when her mother, Belfast woman Caroline Moreland was murdered by the IRA in the summer of 1994.
The 34-year-old mother-of-three’s body was found dumped in a remote area in Fermanagh 15 days later. She had been shot.
The IRA claimed she had been an informer and it later emerged she may have been a victim of a British spy known as ‘Stakeknife’.
This week, Moreland’s family won High Court permission to challenge the PSNI for not including her killing in a major investigation into Stakeknife.
Shauna recalled growing up in a house that was “always full of fun and laughter”.
“She was always playing practical jokes on us.”
After her mother was killed, Shauna said she tried to blank it out.
I refused to believe it was my mummy. I used to tell myself I was dreaming. That I’d go in and tell her and she’d laugh and tell me to get ready for school.
Isadore Whyte
Isadore Whyte‘s mother, Peggy Whyte, was murdered by the UVF which planted a bomb at their family home in south Belfast on 12 April, 1984.
She was 52 years old and had eight children.
“I think of my mum every day,” Isadore said. “But the guy who done it (sic), I don’t have any thoughts for.
You’ve to look at the circumstances. He was probably caught up in something he didn’t understand… a tribal side. There’s two tribes and he’s one of them, a different tribe to us.
“I do still get emotional about it but there’s nothing festering in me that wants revenge and to me that’s down to my mum and dad.”
Isadore’s father became an alcoholic after his wife’s death and died in an accident while drunk several years later.
“He was her life and soul and once she left I don’t think he had any interest in living any more. He’s like a victim of the Troubles in a roundabout way.
There were two people killed that night on 12 April, 1984. One of them just happened to die 11 years later.
Damien Brown
Damien Brown‘s father, Sean Brown, was abducted by the Loyalist Volunteer Force (LVF) from outside a GAA Club in Bellaghy, Co Derry on 12 May 1997. His body was discovered beside his burning car in a nearby village.
Renowned poet Seamus Heaney, who lived in the area, described him as “a man of integrity and goodwill”.
“He had no political allegiance at all,” Damien said. “He was a family man.”
Damien said his family has been waiting 19 years for an inquest into his father’s death.
I keep pushing this thing because I know my father would have done it for myself.
Stella Robinson
Stella Robinson‘s parents Bertha and Wesley Robinson were killed in the Enniskillen bombing on 9 November 1987, along with nine other people.
Several others were injured when the IRA bomb exploded without warning as people gathered at the Cenotaph in the Co Fermanagh town for the annual Remembrance Sunday commemoration.
The couple had four children, including Stella. She recalled going to the hospital to try and find her parents and her 16-year-old brother, who survived the bombing.
“When I arrived at the hospital it was just a mass of people. I’ll never forget when I went in there. The sea of faces,” she said.
Stella said she was particularly close to her mother.
“She was always hugging us but it had to be a tight hug. She was a fun mum. I can still see her smile.
People say grief is the price of love, but I think if you love the person, it depends on how deep the love is, how long you grieve.
If someone said would you still be grieving for someone after 28 years, I’d have thought ‘time heals or whatever’. But it’s still very vivid in my mind.
Peter Heathwood
Peter Heathwood‘s father, Hubert Heathwood, dropped dead of a heart attack on 27 September 1979, after he saw Peter – apparently dead – being carried out of his home in a body bag.
Peter had been shot by Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) gunmen who banged on his door and shot him twice.
Peter passed out after telling his wife, Anne, to call his parents and tell them he was fine. But when his mother and father arrived, they saw ambulance staff carrying Peter out in a body bag – as the stretcher would not fit through the front door.
Believing his son was dead, Hubert collapsed on the spot. His last words were “Oh my poor Peter”.
Peter said his wife never forgave herself for inadvertently answering the door to the gunmen. She went on to suffer from depression and died at the age of 51.
“She just deteriorated,” Peter said.
I would never believe her death wasn’t Troubles-related, as was my father’s. There are plenty like Anne, across this country. The unseen, untold stories of what happened.
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