Family and friends of Patrick Murphy gather outside of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Barrington yesterday morning. Murphy would have turned 18 in two weeks.

THE PROVIDENCE JOURNAL Frieda Squires Frieda Squires

Swifter and yet more swift,

Till the heart with a mighty lift

Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry: —

’O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.’

— Henry C. Beeching

BARRINGTON — With Irish music and touching farewells, friends and family of Patrick Murphy gathered yesterday morning to tearfully remember a youth filled with spirit, drive and a passion for life.

St. John’s Episcopal Church, whose sanctuary holds 500, was filled a half-hour before the 10 a.m. service of thanksgiving. More than a hundred others were in the parish hall, watching on a big screen. Teenage boys were lined up against the walls.

The cover photo on the program, taken July 9, shows a handsome young man posing atop a small mountain in Wales. His older brother took the photograph after Murphy beat him during a race to the top using — not surprisingly — the unconventional route.

“There is a hole in my family that cannot be filled,” said his uncle, Peter Manzella. But the lesson is, “life is meant to be lived as fully as possible.”

Murphy died on the Barrington River while kneeboarding on July 17, the day after he and his family returned from a month-long trip to England, Wales and Ireland.

The 17-year-old driver of the boat, who failed a field sobriety test, is to be arraigned in District Court this morning on charges that will include one felony count of reckless operation, death resulting.

But yesterday, the focus was on Murphy, who would have turned 18 in two weeks.

His father, John, acknowledged “the anger we feel for what was done to him.”

“The anger we will save for another day, and trust that justice will be done,” he said.

Instead, he focused on the memories and emotions, including the grief and the “great and lasting love.”

“I remember the strollers, the wagons and tricycles. The first day of school” and “the little boy with a big smile,” he said.

He recalled when he realized that his son had gotten as big as he had — and had begun stealing his dad’s clothes.

On one occasion, “the shirt, tie and belt I had planned to wear were missing,” he said. There was Patrick, looking sharp in the mirror. When the father objected to the theft, “He flashed a big smile and said, ‘Calm down, Daddy-O.’”

After Murphy’s American history teacher, Patrick Sullivan, complained that he didn’t have a podium for his classroom, Murphy built him one.

He was that type of young man, Sullivan recalled, expressing the joy of working with an “outstanding writer, orator and critical thinker . . . he was a tremendous young man.”

“There won’t be a day I teach at Barrington High School when I won’t think of him, especially when I lean on that podium to give a lesson,” said Sullivan.

Manzella said Murphy was not someone who could be summed up in a sound bite. He was, instead, “complex, richly textured, sometimes contradictory, full of life.”

“He moved loose and easy, like a big cat, and at the same time, almost sleepy. His smile didn’t suddenly appear as much as spread and grow across his face,” said the uncle.

Murphy was a member of the lacrosse and cross-country teams. He loved to cook and fix cars. “He wanted to explore the world, from the Arctic to the heart of darkness,” said Manzella.

And he loved to debate. He was a staunch conservative. “He was never a blowhard. He listened carefully, even when he didn’t agree.”

He was the type of person you wanted at your side when times got tough, said Manzella.

He “had a famous temper,” said Manzella, but it was partly because “he gave respect and he expected it in return.”

Chace Pursley, a friend, called Murphy, sometimes known as “Murph Dog,” “one of the most loyal individuals I have known,” and said “you never saw Pat back down. Murph never settled for less than what he deserved.”

He recalled that when they were 14 years old, Murphy got a bad haircut at Supercuts. He made sure he hung around long enough to poke his head back inside the store and tell the next person in the chair, “I just want you to know I got a haircut and she left me with a bald spot.”

“It’s good to know we’ll have enough stories to talk about him for the rest of our lives,” said Pursley.

Murphy’s father told the community his family was grateful for the outpouring of support.

“We want you to know what you’ve done for us will never be forgotten.”

And Sullivan, the lover of history, said a quote from Abraham Lincoln was most appropriate:

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that counts, but the life in your years.”

With reports from staff writer Meaghan Wims

gemery@cox.net