DONAL Walsh's last video is a poem and a prayer for the living, the forsaken and the almost broken.
He was there in the bright early summer in his own home at the foot of the mountains, on the edge of the sea by the banks of a canal.
In the place he loved best, shining out at us with his wavy brown hair, the handsome boyish face and the big, brown conker eyes.
Donal knew his life was ebbing fast.
He wanted to be told and his parents made sure. They knew him better than anyone. Knew he needed to know because Donal had things to do. Things to say. Quests to make and lives to save.
He was just a boy, like any other boy. So we must see him as one of his own gang. His own generation. Just a boy.
The new video clip produced by the HSE is very short but very powerful.
Donal's first raw interview hit home. Suicide rates dropped but time thieves away the strength of the message.
Millions of images come at us every day. Space is filled in the editing suites in our heads and older stories make way for new clips.
The all too sad pattern is starting up again. Our teenagers are dying from suicide. Donal's father Fionbarr praises the courage shown by the parents of school girl Chloe Kinsella, who died by suicide last week in Limerick. "It was" he says, "like Donal was whispering on my shoulder. The priest said the family, in the depth of their grief, asked that the funeral would not be a glorification of suicide and they wanted the young people to choose to live life.
"Chloe's parents had the courage to continue the conversation Donal started."
With Fionbarr and Elma's permission we have re-arranged his spoken goodbyes, line under line in the form of the poem.
Elma hopes her young lad's message will get through.
"When our teenagers see how weak Donal was physically and how his voice was beginning to go and how much of an effort it was for him, we hope they will listen. It took so much out of Donal to make the video. But he wanted to do it."
Donal wrote his epitaph through a journey of weeks rather than the years most of us get, but he was also travelling to some sort of a state of grace.
Maybe it's just me and part of our innate human longing for some sort of sign there is another life, a hereafter. A place to meet those we have lost or those we are leaving behind. This is the big question of our time, or any other age.
Donal's thinking was clear, even if the frail body was giving up on him.
It was as if Donal had help from a higher power and that in some way your God and mine was speaking through the teenager from Blennerville.
And so we have formed the opinion that young Donal's last poem was made half-way between heaven and here.