Canon Alan Irwin, rector of Colaghty Parish Church, Lack has shared his twin brother’s story as part of the South East Fermanagh Foundation (SEFF) publication, ‘The wider human cost of the Northern Ireland Troubles’.
Stephen Irwin took his own life at age 17, shortly after the murder of his uncle at the hands of the IRA.
Stephen’s death is not recognised in the official Troubles death toll of more than 3,000 people.
Canon Irwin acknowledges that it is a comfort to have his brother’s life and death acknowledged in this way.
He said: “We don’t realise the terrorism that we endured, just the impact that it has had on people’s lives. The general rule of terrorism is not only to destroy or murder the individual, but to destroy the lives of the entire family.
“I have spoken about my brother’s life and loss in other aspects, but the fact [is it's very important] that now there is a recognition that while we record the lives that have been lost through murder, those injured [through terrorism], often we forget about the ones that have been impacted because of the terrorism they endured.”
Acknowledging the wide-reaching levels of trauma for all who lived through The Troubles, Canon Irwin said: “Many people involved within the emergency services, doctors, nurses, funeral undertakers and sometimes reporters – what they witnessed and experienced, they sometimes carry [with them through life].”

The following is an (edited) extract from SEFF's new publication, 'The Wider Human cost of The Northern Ireland Troubles'.

The following extract focuses on Stephen Irwin, twin brother of Rev. Canon Alan Irwin, the rector of Colaghty Parish Church, Lack.

In the early 1980s, Stephen Thomas Irwin was a young man growing up in rural County Tyrone, finding his way in life. He joined the Royal Artillery when he was 16 but quickly decided it was not the life he wanted. 
His uncle Fred had been a part-time member of the UDR when he was murdered by the IRA in 1979 aged 43.
The death of his uncle, unbeknown to his family at the time, weighed heavily on Stephen’s mind, affecting his mental health to the extent that on January 25, 1983, Stephen took his own life, aged 17.
Stephen’s father Thomas was also a part-time member of UDR. He was also murdered by the IRA in 1986.
Almost prophetically, the note Stephen left before his death in 1983 said he didn’t want to be around to see his father die in the same way as his uncle.
Alan Irwin (57), Stephen’s twin brother, talks about the impact of his brother’s death and, how almost three decades later, this influences the way he supports other bereaved families in his role as a Minister, his lived experiences of loss.
“Growing up, Stephen and I were close but we weren’t identical, and we weren’t telepathic in the way you hear twins can sometimes be. We did a lot of things together.
“We both attended primary school together and we both went to Omagh Secondary School, now Omagh High School, but he was generally more energetic than me.
“Stephen was more sporty than me, more active, but then he became interested in becoming ‘involved’, as they say, and becoming a boy soldier. 

Impartial Reporter:
“He went into the Army. He was very interested in the Royal Artillery. He did most of his training locally in Ballymena before going to England where he discovered his training should have taken place (but didn’t fully complete it).
“Whether it was how he was received as coming from Northern Ireland, or the perception he had, he came back home, whether he went AWOL or he just wanted out at that stage is uncertain, but he resolved it wasn’t for him. 
“Although the necessary steps were taken to come out of the army, though this meant going back to England for a period, this never happened as things took a different turn.
“None of us can see the underlying pressures that people face. We put that mask on, that façade, but underneath we are paddling like a duck.
“There was a time leading up to the suicide that he could have been quite aggressive, at other times, quite calm. 
“That night of the suicide, he was actually in good form. Seemingly he had everything in place and that was the difficult thing, not knowing how he had got access to the old shotgun, because dad was the only one who had the keys, and he kept them on his person.
“The shotgun was always dismantled and shells were locked away in another cupboard.
“There was a time afterwards, because I was in the same room as my brother shot himself, that I wondered why did I not hear, because it wasn’t until mum opened the door and asked “What was that bang?” that I woke.

Murdered
“We didn’t see the note that he left, we were only given a verbal account of what was written, but once our uncle Fred, who was part-time in the UDR, had been murdered in 1979, and the way things were going, basically Stephen said he just didn’t want to be around to see dad, who was also part-time UDR, murdered as well.
“My father was murdered in 1986. That is a memory that sticks with me, with all of us as a family.
“At the time, it was devastating for my mum, Anne. She couldn’t go into the room, and for years wouldn’t go upstairs if the room door was open.
“You do look back and wonder, if it didn’t happen, what he would have been doing now, or what the story would be, but while you can speculate the reality is you just don’t know. 
“I wonder what he would think about what I am doing now. I was ordained in 2009, so I am not a long time in Ministry, but my experiences with my brother and the other atrocities in the family have given me a better empathy, particularly with those who have lost loved ones to suicide. 
“A while back, I went to the home of a 17-year-old who took his own life, spending time with the family, and on the day of the funeral, stepping outside the funeral home (and after talking to the family, I came back outside), and saw the sea of young people. It is things like that which brings it all back.”
The Wider Human Cost of the Northern Ireland Troubles is published by SEFF.