MY SYSTER FOR LIFE
The work that Sister Agnes did during her time with the Sisters of Charity in Lakelands will be remembered by all who came in contact with her. She had a great sense of humour and a wonderful smile. It was a privilege to have known her and I will miss her sorely. Sister Agnes was always embarrassed when anyone paid her compliments and reading the following must have made her blush. I can think of no better obituary for my dear friend that the following written by my daughter, Roisin.
I was never moved by Mass and the priests of my youth left me cold. But Sister Agnes Philomena? That’s a different story. She smelt of candles and incense and of the convent down the road. And like the most efficient guardian angels she appeared at the door when we needed her most. Sister Agnes Philomena was goodness and love wrapped up in the black robes of the Sisters of Charity. I recognised her pure spirit even as I began to grow suspicious of the Catholic Church. She went from house to house around the parish. Slowly, purposefully she walked the walk. My mother could tell Sister Agnes Philomena anything, which is how she came to know all our family problems. She gave us clothes and money and moral support. She enjoyed us and was proud of us. She wrapped up talc and bath salts for our Christmas presents and always hid a fiver in the packaging, which is how they sometimes came to be opened before Christmas day. She brought us the Catholic Messenger. It was small and red and had the best children’s puzzle page. I’m sure this is why, despite my antipathy towards organised religion, I’ve never been averse to a good browse of even the holiest publication. ‘Alive!’ is a Catholic monthly newspaper and in the October edition Fr Owen Gorman writes about devotion to St Philomena, which began in 1802 during excavations in the Catacombs of Priscilla in Rome. The remains of an early martyr were discovered under three funeral tiles bearing the inscription ‘Pax Tecum Filumena’ (peace be with you, Philomena). This made me think of Sister Agnes Philomena as a young nun in the 1930s choosing the name that would inspire her vocation. I hadn’t spoken to her in years, but after reading the article I called the convent to thank her. She sounds the same as ever and when I tell her why I’ve rung she bats away my gratitude, saying “it was a privilege”. I tell her I can’t believe she is 94. And she laughs. Pax Tecum, Philomena. Edited version of an article written by Roisin Ingle earlier this year, reproduced with the permission of the ‘Irish Times’. |
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