Rosemary
The dear sister in the Lord I recently blogged about, after I visited her in hospital before her heart operation (Hospital Tonic) is dead.
It was always going to be risky, performing a valve replacement operation at her age. But she was so strong, so determined, so open-eyed in her insistence on it, that it seemed a risk worth taking. And in fact the operation went well and seemed to be successful. But sadly she had a stroke a few days afterwards, which left her without speech or movement. If she had lived, she would have hated the helplessness; she was already almost blind, and being able to get around and talk to people was about all she had. She slipped away, and died about 9 a.m. on Thursday.
As Dame Rosemary Murray, she is a very public figure, founder President of New Hall in Cambridge, and first woman vice chancellor of Cambridge University. I'm expecting to see her obituaries in the serious press any day (not yet appeared) and will post links to them when I can.
But to us in the parish, where she moved about 8 years ago to spend her last years among us, she was just Rosemary. In that short time she made an astonishing number of friends, many of whom are genuinely sad to lose her, at the same time as knowing it's far better for her not to go on living as an invalid. She used to drive me mad on the PCC with her searching questions (which so often discovered my ignorance, lack of preparation, or inefficiency) and requests for the fullest transparency and communication about everything. But I loved her for it, too. It was all of a piece, you see. The quality that really characterised her was a boundless curiosity about life and an interest in people. She loved books, and gardens, and the Book of Common Prayer. But in spite of her distinguished career, and her wit and brilliance, or perhaps because of them, she was a model of humility and graciousness. There was never any side about Rosemary. (For overseas readers: side (Brit. informal) = boastful or pretentious manner or attitude.)
She's one of those people, so rare and precious, whom I get to know too late, and then wish I had known better and longer. Whom I want to take as a model for my life. Yes, I covet that curiosity, that joy in people and their ideas and lives. She once told me she hated small talk and was never any good at it. That's because every conversation you had with her felt big: it was about real stuff, and made you believe that it (and your ideas about it) mattered.
God bless you, Rosemary. And thanks for being part of my life.
It was always going to be risky, performing a valve replacement operation at her age. But she was so strong, so determined, so open-eyed in her insistence on it, that it seemed a risk worth taking. And in fact the operation went well and seemed to be successful. But sadly she had a stroke a few days afterwards, which left her without speech or movement. If she had lived, she would have hated the helplessness; she was already almost blind, and being able to get around and talk to people was about all she had. She slipped away, and died about 9 a.m. on Thursday.
As Dame Rosemary Murray, she is a very public figure, founder President of New Hall in Cambridge, and first woman vice chancellor of Cambridge University. I'm expecting to see her obituaries in the serious press any day (not yet appeared) and will post links to them when I can.
But to us in the parish, where she moved about 8 years ago to spend her last years among us, she was just Rosemary. In that short time she made an astonishing number of friends, many of whom are genuinely sad to lose her, at the same time as knowing it's far better for her not to go on living as an invalid. She used to drive me mad on the PCC with her searching questions (which so often discovered my ignorance, lack of preparation, or inefficiency) and requests for the fullest transparency and communication about everything. But I loved her for it, too. It was all of a piece, you see. The quality that really characterised her was a boundless curiosity about life and an interest in people. She loved books, and gardens, and the Book of Common Prayer. But in spite of her distinguished career, and her wit and brilliance, or perhaps because of them, she was a model of humility and graciousness. There was never any side about Rosemary. (For overseas readers: side (Brit. informal) = boastful or pretentious manner or attitude.)
She's one of those people, so rare and precious, whom I get to know too late, and then wish I had known better and longer. Whom I want to take as a model for my life. Yes, I covet that curiosity, that joy in people and their ideas and lives. She once told me she hated small talk and was never any good at it. That's because every conversation you had with her felt big: it was about real stuff, and made you believe that it (and your ideas about it) mattered.
God bless you, Rosemary. And thanks for being part of my life.
posted by Tony at 10/09/2004 03:34:00 pm
1 Comments:
May she rest in peace and rise in glory.
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