Some things are more important than the economy

There is something uniquely beautiful about this country of ours. I don't mean just the obvious tourist attractions like the Ring of Kerry and Newgrange. We, here in Ireland, are surrounded by a most gentle, easy sort of charm and loveliness that only the soulless would fail to appreciate. True, we have no Niagara Falls, no Taj Mahal, no Great Barrier Reef – the sort of attractions that take your breath away, but Ireland's allure is more delicate and more likely to simply sooth the spirit. As it has done since the beginning of time, the sun rose again today over this enchanted land of ours. At about 8am, the light began to filter through the bare branches of the beech and chestnut; through the mist, it cast a weak, soft glow upon the animals grazing in the glens in a vision reminiscent of ancient, mythological Ireland. All this despite the fuss and hoopla surrounding the arrival of the IMF, the ECB and the EU in Dublin this week. We still awoke with the sunrise, ate our breakfasts and got on with the day. We still argued, loved, worried, got annoyed, forgave, rejoiced – just as we did at the height of the economic boom. But there are seven people for whom the sun will never rise again – the seven people who all lost their lives on Tuesday of last week in Limerick and Cork. Four little children and three adults (although in their early 20s, two of these were little more than children themselves) pointlessly, shockingly left this world. Death is death, and it may seem horrible to claim that one person's departure is worse than another's, but at least when illness is involved, there can be a sense of relief for the victim. But all these people were young, physically healthy and should have had many years ahead of them; the youngest was but a few months old – never even had a visit from Santa. Yet, the economy is first and foremost the focus of our collective attention. And, no, don't even think of blaming the media for this disillusioning fact – the media only gives us what we want. Names such as Angela Merkel, Olli Rehn and Ajai Chopra are now as familiar to us as those of our own neighbours. But who remembers the names of the children, the father, the young mother and her friend who were laid to rest this week? I, myself, can only think of one of their names. While the whole world is watching Ireland, analysing our finances, predicting our future, who is watching the depressed, the suicidal, distraught souls who struggle to make it from one day to the next? Only a deluded fool would suggest that the economy doesn't matter – that we can live off love and fresh air – have a sort of 'spend and God will send' attitude. Economic stability is imperative for the advancement of a state and its people. However, must it not be the case that the very foundation of any state and its economy is its people? When all is said and done, are men, women and children not the reason we need a stable economy? But, dear God, what is happening to our people? I do not know many details about the deaths last week simply because I don't want to – they are too horribly sad and tragic for most of us to dwell on. However, depression has been mentioned in one of the cases. What I do know is that any parent who feels so low, so full of despair, so without hope, that they believe their own children would be better off out of this world really and truly needs help. To take one's own life is indicative of pure, utter despondency; but to feel the need to free one's children, one's future, from this world, really represents the highest level of despair. I wonder what percentage of the €34 billion we threw down the black hole of Anglo Irish Bank it would take to address the issue of mental illness in Ireland – properly address it, that is. During the ridiculous sprint to gain more and more wealth during Ireland's boom, we shamefully left behind all who were not able to keep up. Instead of carrying the weak along with us, we left them, stranded, at the starting line and never even looked back to see how they were doing. Now that we have all run out of steam, we are begging our stronger neighbours to carry us for a while. And, whatever hope the most vulnerable had when we were able to give them a helping hand, they really are on their own now – alone and quite simply forgotten. By the way, the victims of last week's horrors were: John, Zoe, Ella, Reece, Amy, Sarah and Alicia. RIP.