Her Beautiful Life
A tribute to the late Andrée Moran (née Munnelly), Kennedy Gardens, Castlebar, and Erris Street, Crossmolina, by her sister Irene McDonald
Not many people will know that Andrée’s real name was Ann-Marie.
Maybe you thought my parents went bohemian in the early seventies and decided to name her something chic?
No, her name evolved to Andrée because she simply couldn’t pronounce Ann-Marie when she was little. When asked, she would say “My name is Ann-Dree.”
So that name stuck. And it suited her.
Andrée was born on the 7th of January, 1970; a beautiful bright light in the dark days of that winter.
She was the fourth of six children (five girls and a boy) and attended the Girls National School in Crossmolina until she was twelve.
She was a very happy and content child who loved simple things, like playing with her friends, cycling her bike, and eating sweets from Nora Halloran’s shop (once succeeding in buying a fistful of sweets with toy money, much to Nora’s annoyance, who galloped down the street after her when she realised she’d been swindled by a four year old).
Her favourite place to play was in the fields up the Boreen over what seemed like endless summers.
Of course it was freer then; there were no computers to hold any of us at home, so when we went out we were sometimes gone for the whole day, our only curfew being the setting sun.
In her teens she went to the Convent of Jesus & Mary at Gortnor Abbey, and although Andrée was good at school, she wasn’t too concerned with books and study.
She focused instead on what she loved and what came naturally to her, and that was art and music and song.
To me, her talents seemed endless. She could literally turn her hand to anything creative and in her time at secondary school she produced the most beautiful drawings and paintings.
Hair, though, became her canvas of choice.
Like our mother, Anne, she chose a career in hairdressing, working alongside my sister Cathriona in the hair salon on Erris Street, and after that in Kelly’s barber shop in Castlebar where she always had a queue waiting.
She had her own unique style, somewhere between boho-chic and rock-chick, and from my perspective she was just cooler than cool.
She loved to travel - the farther and more exotic the location the better.
And when she came home she would be steeped in culture, oozing with stories of her exciting foreign adventures.
She really was a free spirit and wasn’t afraid to express herself either (as evident in her many avant-garde hairstyles) and, I must say, she was great craic to be around.
In the year 2000 she settled down and got married, bringing three more beautiful bright lights into this world.
A natural mother, she believed in allowing her three children (Iosaf, Blaithin and Othain) explore their world by letting them get their hands and knees dirty. She never fussed. And at bedtime she would happily clean up any mess so they could do it all over again the next day.
Andrée delighted in the natural world, drawing great pleasure from the simplest of things.
In her health, she loved nothing more than a walk on the beach, and I would often notice a pretty seashell on her window-sill, or a bunch of wild dog-daisies and ferns that she would have pulled from a ditch.
I can’t stress enough how much she loved these things; I think it was because they were a bit wild and grew freely, just like her.
She was diagnosed with stage 4 GIST cancer at the young age of 43. And with that awful diagnosis came the fear of what would happen next; not for herself, but for her children.
Her focus, now, was on life, and it was humbling to be around her.
On her sickest days I witnessed her thank God for the health she had, which might seem strange but she really meant it.
She was thankful for what she could do, and focused on that instead of what she couldn’t.
On her bad days, she would pray for the strength to keep going; to keep fighting, for her children. And fight she did, defying all odds, surpassing even the specialists’ expectations.
In her last days, Andrée’s friends sent her lots of beautiful bouquets.
It was a joy to be present with her, to witness her delight at receiving those gifts, and her awe in admiring and appreciating the flowers’ vivid colours. She was truly present in those moments.
If we could all live our lives like that, how happy and content we would be, lost in the beauty of a simple flower.
In the messages of condolence we have received since her passing on July 14th, her friends have described her as courageous and kind, gentle and caring, peaceful and loving, a beautiful ray of light.
She was all of those things; a beautiful person who put everyone else before herself.
There is no doubt she is in heaven now, somewhere over the rainbow. If I was to imagine her spirit it would be a kaleidoscope of colour, at one with the part of the colour spectrum we cannot see.
We can take solace in knowing she is with us in spirit, and with the people she loved the most.
Andrée and I shared similar philosophies.
I know if she were to give advice on how to live one’s life she would tell you “You only die once but you live every day.”
So make every day count, be grateful for what you have, let love be the centre of every decision you make.
And make sure you laugh, a lot.
Serenity Prayer
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
-Karl Paul Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971)
* The tribute was first published in the Crossmolina Chronicle, the annual parish magazine of the north Mayo town.