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She Sat With Me All Night

I am not going to put my name to this because it is private. I was a patient on the ward when Kathleen was the night sister, and I was in a very bad place, not medically but otherwise. I was frightened and I wasn't coping and she saw it. She sat with me for almost an hour in the middle of the night when she had a ward to run. She did not say anything particularly profound. She just stayed. I have never forgotten it.

Anonymous · 8 Jun 2026

The Communion Preparation Classes

Kathleen ran the First Holy Communion preparation classes for almost fifteen years. She had a particular gift for explaining things to seven-year-olds without being condescending, which is harder than it sounds. She used a lot of biscuits as teaching aids. One year a small boy asked her why God allowed suffering and she answered him properly, seriously, without blinking — and then gave him two extra biscuits for asking.

Margaret Walsh · 8 Jun 2026

The Choir

Kathleen joined the St Osburg's choir in 2001 and immediately became the most unreliable soprano we have ever had, because of her shifts, and simultaneously one we could not imagine being without. She had a slightly rough voice, which she knew, and it did not concern her in the least. She sang like she meant it. When the choir sang at the Requiem on Wednesday, we all felt her absence acutely. The second soprano section was very quiet.

Margaret Walsh · 8 Jun 2026

Night Shifts

I worked with Kathleen for eleven years on the surgical ward and I would not have lasted the first two without her. She had a way of managing the ward at three in the morning — everything slightly difficult at that hour — that was absolutely calm without being cold. She knew every patient by name within hours of their admission. She remembered who had family coming in the morning and who did not, and she adjusted accordingly. She brought soda bread on nights. It was an act of mercy.

Patrick Flanagan · 8 Jun 2026

The Christmas Cake

She baked a Christmas cake every year from the same recipe she got from Mam, written in Mam's handwriting on a piece of lined paper that had been folded and unfolded a thousand times. She kept it in a little plastic sleeve now because the paper was getting fragile. She baked the one that was served at the wake in September, when she was still well enough to stand for an hour. She said she wanted it to be a good one. It was the best one she ever made.

Siobhan O'Connell · 8 Jun 2026

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