YESTERDAY afternoon, in the unlikely setting of Sheriff Street, there was a reconciliation of sorts between two Irelands.

The new and the old, the liberal and the conservative came together without hesitation as the Northside brought home for the last time one of its most successful sons.

When Stephen Gately was young, it was probably unthinkable that an openly gay man would be welcomed home to a Catholic church in Dublin's inner city for a resolutely Catholic funeral, his husband recognised as if they had been a more traditional couple.

In this, if in little else, Irish State and Irish Church have come a long way. But despite all the hoopla and the hype, Stephen Gately's funeral wasn't about showbiz or the world of pop or politics.

It was a working class community in Dublin sending off one of its own and standing by his family and friends in their hour of need.

And this is what was so unique about the men of Boyzone this last week. Nothing became them as well as the manner of their leave- taking of their friend.

From the moment they heard the tragic news, through their two trips to Majorca to their decision to keep an overnight vigil and their conduct of the funeral, they did everything right.

They showed a grieving community -- and a grieving nation -- the symbolic expression of a public occasion, not to mention the importance of valuing friendship.

"Louis Walsh created the band" said Keith Duffy, "But we made the friendship."

And in the first civic gesture of recognition of the momentous nature of the occasion, O2 Arena owner Harry Crosbie announced that the first concert in the Point Village next spring would be a free concert dedicated to Stephen Gately.

Over the last week, Stephen Gately's death in Majorca was a story that mushroomed in its resonance throughout the country and the world.

There was the simple tragedy of a young man dying before his time, lying alone on that couch undiscovered for those lonely hours before his husband and their friend realised he was dead. There was the fact that he was a much-loved entertainer, popular with colleagues and fans and always ready with a smile or an autograph.

But in some way too, Stephen Gately's death echoed a national mood of loss. In some way he became a symbol of how it all fell apart so unexpectedly for so many people in this country.

Stephen and Boyzone were emblematic of the new, successful Ireland, of a country that could enjoy brash commercial success as well as just being rich in song, story and philosophy. Boyzone realised we didn't need to be underachievers. Boyzone got the designer clothes and the big cars just ahead of the rest of us. They enjoyed their success in an unashamed manner that was regarded as very unIrish then, but which would in time become the whole country's reaction to success .

They mixed with the international movers and shakers, who were more visible at the northside funeral than our more local heroes.

Jason Donovan was there, Elton John's partner David Furnish was there (Elton was on tour in Zurich). He it was who introduced Stephen to his husband, Andrew Cowles.

Bertie Ahern was there. And he was entitled to be. Not just because Stephen was a constituent but because no politician did more to further the cause of civic partnerships.

U2 were unable to attend because they are on tour in Mexico. Boyzone had appeared in the U2 video of The Sweetest Thing, filmed off Fitzwilliam St in Dublin.

Like so may Irish lads who did well, Stephen even bought the luxury apartment in the Med. That it was here where it would all end so prematurely added another poignant, resonant note.

And, yesterday, Stephen came back to where he came from for the last time, to the church in which he was baptised, where he made his Communion and Confirmation. It was a place he had never forgotten. And while his life may not have been a traditional one by Irish standards, he and his family came back to that most traditional of places yesterday, to the church, packed with love, music, warmth and even laughter -- but cold and lonely as any church is when we say goodbye to a brother, a son, or a friend.

Strangely, it wasn't the Mass itself that lent the most traditional note to Stephen's funeral, it was the way his friends brought elements of a traditional Irish wake to the solemn occasion in St Laurence O'Toole Church.

Keith Duffy knew it was okay to get up and crack a few jokes about Stephen's height, about one of the band snoring during the night as they lay keeping vigil on their brother (the Boyz reportedly had chips from the chipper and a bottle of wine for their last supper with Stephen on Friday night). Keith went on to say how much they cherished their little brother and he reminded Stephen's mam and dad that they had four new sons now.

Ronan Keating, who said he lost a brother and a wingman, said that Stephen had the most unusual sense of humour. "If he were here right now," he said, "he'd say 'Hey Ro, I'm looking for a stained glass window. If you see one around, let me know.'"

Boyzone were the campest straight band in the world, he said and pointed out that though Stephen thought he was the best camper in the world, he wasn't even the best camper in the band -- that accolade goes to Duster (Keith Duffy) apparently.

But eventually laughter had to give way to the sad business in hand. And Ronan's voice broke as he said to his late friend, "We know you have found peace, perfect peace."

Stephen's struggles were alluded to gently a couple of times, but everyone who spoke both outside the church and inside, agreed that in recent times he had been happier than he'd ever been.

Not surprisingly, it was Ronan's wife, Yvonne, who struck the perfect note in the glamour stakes too, recognising that a certain subdued glamour is one's duty at a funeral like this. She was pure Hollywood and one would have felt Stephen would have appreciated it.

This past week, Stephen's friends spoke again and again of how much he loved the limelight. But you suspect he wouldn't have begrudged it to his bandmates for a few minutes at the end of his funeral yesterday.

Because it was the crescendo of a week in which Keith, Ronan, Mikey and Shane gave the performance of a lifetime. And they weren't even performing. As much as we all held our children that little bit closer yesterday, we remembered too to keep our friends close too.

And if we have friends who are half as solid as Stephen Gately's were, then we are lucky indeed.

- Brendan O'Connor, Anne Harris and Barry Egan

Sunday Independent