There are weeks that pass without much notice — ordinary days strung together in the rhythm of life. And then there are weeks like this one in Galway, when time itself seems to pause, heavy with grief, as two vibrant lives were lost on our roads.
There isn’t one among us untouched by the tragic death of six-year-old Ula Grigaityte. A child of sunshine and innocence, Ula was doing something every child has done — riding her bicycle, through her neighbourhood at Sandyvale Lawns, savouring the new-found freedom that comes with each push of the pedal. It was a quiet Saturday. A normal day. Until it wasn’t.
Her life ended in a collision with an oil truck — a moment so sudden, so cruel, it has left a city reeling. Her classmates in senior infants at Scoil Róis in Salthill are returning to a classroom with one desk empty, her laughter now just an echo in the memories of friends too young to understand what has happened.
A day before, on Friday, April 4, the weekend of tragedy began. Patrick De Le Ruelle, a man in his 20s, died after his motorcycle collided with a vehicle on the N67 near Oranmore. It was his birthday. He too, like Ula, was embracing the freedom of the road, the wind on his face, the possibilities of the years ahead. His passing greatly mourned, not just by his family, but by the wider motorcycling community who are shocked by it all and who have been mourning the passing of another ‘brother of the road.’
In their place, grief has taken root — deep and wide. These were not just statistics. These were people with dreams, with futures, with laughter that filled rooms, with love to give and receive. In two homes, in two communities, there are bedrooms filled with possessions that will never again be touched by their hands. Toys. Helmets. Photos. Unfinished lives.
Galway is grieving, and so is the country. These tragedies have cut to the core of something fragile in us all. Road deaths have become too common, too easy to brush past — until it is someone you know, or someone who reminds you of your own. And then the pain is unbearable.
Our roads have become killing fields. Every day brings another headline, another heartbreak. For a small nation, we are suffering enormous losses. The injured often vanish from the narrative, left to bear lifelong burdens — invisible victims of a system that tallies only fatalities.
And we ask ourselves: Why does this keep happening?
There are no easy answers. But right now, none of those answers would bring peace to Ula or Patrick’s families and friends.
Galway Mayor Peter Keane called Ula’s death a “tragedy of unbearable mention.” And he is right. There are no words big enough to contain this sorrow, no gesture large enough to replace what was taken.
But let us not move on too quickly. Let us hold this grief close, so that we may change, so that others may be spared. Let us remember Ula and Patrick not just as victims, but as reminders — that life is delicate, and we are each other’s keepers on the road.
May the collective love of all in the city and county help shoulder the pain they must be feeling right now and in the time ahead.
