Brendan O'Brien

Brendan O'Brien, the kindest soul with a twinkle in his eye and a penchant for asking the questions others were too shy to ask, passed away peacefully on May 6, 2026, at the age of 82. To those who knew him, he was more than a journalist—he was a storyteller who saw the world not just as it was, but as it could be. Whether he was chasing a lead for RTÉ’s *Prime Time* or regaling us with tales over a cup of tea, Brendan had a way of making everyone feel like they mattered. I’ll never forget the time he stayed up until 3 a.m. helping a young colleague untangle a complex story, his patience unwavering even as the rest of us groaned about deadlines. That was Brendan—always lifting others up, even when it meant sacrificing his own rest. Family was Brendan’s anchor. He adored his wife, Mary, with a tenderness that never faded, even after decades of marriage. Their kitchen table was a hub of laughter and debate, where their children—Siobhan, Declan, and little Niamh—grew up hearing stories of “Daddy’s adventures” in journalism. Brendan coached Niamh’s soccer team, much to the amusement of the other parents, and every Sunday, he’d insist on making pancakes, flipping them with the same flair he brought to interviews. His grandchildren called him “Grandad the Great,” and he’d spend hours building Lego castles or reading *Harry Potter* aloud, his voice bringing characters to life in ways that left