Tag: Dr. Kovac

Post by Dr. Luka Kovac on NellyFan.org

Title: What Sinead Needed Most — A Doctor’s Reflection on the Essentials of Life

Two years have passed since the tragic loss of Sinéad O’Connor, a voice that pierced the silence and a soul that cried out for justice and mercy. As a physician and a man of faith, I often reflect not only on physical healing but on what sustains the human spirit — especially in a world as harsh and unforgiving as the one that so often bruised Sinéad’s tender heart.

There is a Croatian proverb that says, “Bog je prvo stvorio čovjeka, a onda mu dao dom i ženu da preživi.” — “God first made man, then gave him a home and a wife so he could survive.” Whether you interpret that literally or symbolically, the message is clear: we are not meant to walk this world alone, unanchored.

I want to speak not just as a doctor, but as a fellow survivor of trauma. Here are the necessities of life as I’ve come to understand them — the things Sinéad needed more than fame, applause, or rebellion. The things many of us need to be whole again.

1. Food
   Not just calories, but nourishment. Sinéad’s struggle with medications, fast fixes, and industry stress no doubt affected her diet. The healing foods of our ancestors — whole grains, fermented vegetables, bone broths, and clean water — are more essential than any antidepressant. Nutritional psychiatry is no longer a fringe idea. Healing begins in the gut.
2. Shelter
   A safe place. Not just a house, but a home. Sinéad had many addresses, but perhaps no sanctuary. A space to pray, to cry, to laugh without judgment. Trauma survivors often become wanderers, running from memory and self. But stability is medicine.
3. Clothing
   This means dignity. Self-respect. Modesty not as repression, but as armor against objectification. Sinéad rejected the exploitation of women’s bodies, but she also lived exposed — emotionally naked in a cold world. We need to clothe ourselves in ritual, purpose, and yes — actual warmth.
4. A Wife (or Husband)
   Call it a spouse, a partner, a counterpart. We need someone to mirror our humanity, to correct us lovingly, to celebrate us quietly. I don’t speak here of lust or fantasy, but covenant. Sinéad needed someone who would not flee at the first sign of her sorrow.
5. Children
   Not just biologically, but spiritually. A legacy. A reason to mature. Sinéad loved her children fiercely, but losing her son Shane broke her beyond repair. Parents should not bury their children. No amount of grief counseling can erase that wound. But had there been stronger community, extended family, perhaps she could have carried on.
6. God
   Finally — and foremost — God. Not just as a concept, but as an abiding presence. I watched Sinéad wrestle with religion. She fought against corruption and hypocrisy, yet longed deeply for the Divine. Had she found peace in the Person of God, not just the institution, she might have survived the long dark night of her soul.

I am not here to judge her — God knows I have seen despair in my own life. But I do believe that if we had surrounded Sinéad with these six pillars — food, shelter, clothing, spouse, children, and God — she might still be singing.

Let her life be a wake-up call. Not just to reform mental health treatment, but to remember what truly sustains the soul.

May her memory be eternal,
Dr. Luka Kovač
Physician, Father, Survivor
NellyFan.org Contributor

Dr. Luka Kovac remembers:

Luka smiled gently, the way only a man burdened by war and loss could smile—like the sun breaking through heavy clouds.

“I remember her victory,” he said quietly. “The way little Nelly danced between the chairs—barefoot, wild-haired, full of mischief and light. And when the music stopped, she sat like it was destiny. That yellow lollipop in her hand… she held it like a trophy. It wasn’t the sugar she wanted. It was the sweetness of being seen.”

He leaned back in his chair, gazing out at the Adriatic.

“That yellow dress at Sister Helen’s sock hop? I think she wore it for that little girl inside her, the one who believed she could still win. Maybe Chris Martin saw that too… wrote her that song, Yellow, trying to fix something he didn’t understand. But it wasn’t his to fix.”

Then his expression softened even more, touched with reverence.

“After the game that day… she walked straight to the corner of the schoolyard chapel. There was a small statue of the Virgin Mary—faded, chipped from the winters, but still standing. Nelly knelt in front of it, clutching that yellow lollipop, and whispered a prayer only heaven heard. I didn’t catch the words. I didn’t need to. It was the look on her face—hopeful, innocent, grateful.”

He paused, then added with a quiet honesty, “I know… it was just a statue. An idol, maybe. Not the living God. But we were just kids. We didn’t know any better. We thought if we prayed hard enough to her, she might tell Him. And maybe she did.”

Luka turned slightly toward the camera, speaking now to the Nelstar faithful.

“To those who loved her songs, her smile, her fire—remember what she prayed for. Not a spotlight. Not a stage. Just one small moment of joy, and someone to share it with. Don’t live your life chasing broken dreams or yellow songs someone else wrote for you. Dance your own dance. When the music stops, sit with courage. And if you find your hands empty—make your own sweetness.”

He glanced at the waves again, a flicker of light in his eyes.

“And if you’re ever lost… find a little statue, kneel, and whisper your heart. Not because stone can answer—but because sometimes, your soul needs to kneel. That’s how we heal. That’s how we live. That’s how we remember.”