This type of loss is especially cruel. The tests have been completed. You’ve finished the most challenging part of secondary school. The results slip is still weeks away, you are eighteen, and summer is just around the corner. That window of opportunity and relief was incredibly fleeting for Alisha Dillon, a Leaving Certificate student at Mercy College Coolock in north Dublin.
On Sunday, June 21, Alisha unexpectedly passed away at Beaumont Hospital while surrounded by her family. Her age was eighteen. She had just completed her Leaving Cert exams, which hundreds of thousands of Irish students prepare for and dread for years. She overcame them. After that, she vanished.
Mercy College Coolock, her school, posted a tribute that was obviously written by people who knew her personally. It wasn’t the type of writing that is put together from a template, but rather the kind of words that require pauses between sentences. They recalled her as having extraordinary creative talent and a good heart. a faithful companion. A radiant grin. Employees expressed pride in seeing her develop into a remarkable young lady. When teachers are sincere, they say things like that.
Alisha came from Darndale, a tight-knit neighborhood in north Dublin with its own traditions and allegiances. According to her family’s RIP.ie notice, she was the cherished daughter of Ashling and Dermot, the sister of Adam and Amber, the granddaughter of Anto, who many people just called Masher, and Daragh’s loyal girlfriend. It matters how specific those names are. It depicts a girl who was truly surrounded by people, something that not everyone is able to experience.
There was an immediate and sincere outpouring from Mercy College and the larger community. On social media, thousands of people—many of whom were strangers—reacted to her. Dublin does a good job of quietly expressing collective grief by showing up, saying the name, and making sure the loss is acknowledged. It wasn’t a performative repost. The neighborhood seemed to be holding its breath.
The timing is what’s more difficult to deal with and what keeps coming up when you read the tributes. One such age is eighteen. Even though you are officially an adult, you are still very young. Despite its stress, the Leaving Cert serves as a marker, a finish line that signals that you are ready to start. It had been crossed by Alisha. The person she was becoming, whatever she was planning, was only beginning to take shape.
She was buried at Balgriffin Cemetery after a funeral mass at the Church of Our Lady Immaculate in Darndale. Her family reported that she was reunited with her grandfather Mike and her late grandmothers Frances and Bernie.
This kind of story is incomprehensible. It is possible to observe facts and offer tributes, but there is a huge disconnect between those statements and her family’s current situation. Perhaps the only thing any institution can do in these situations is what Mercy College Coolock did, pausing to say her name in public and letting the world know she mattered. Sometimes all you can do is bear witness.
Dillon, Alisha, was eighteen. She had a full life ahead of her, people who loved her, and a creative mind. For those who knew her, the world is a little quieter.
