to an absent friend

Sr. Rosemarie Julie Gavin, SND
1917 - 2003
Sixty-four years a Sister of Notre Dame

I had the pleasure of first meeting Sr. Rosemarie Julie about three years ago, when she first came to Mercy. She had recently broken her leg and moved to Mercy to heal. In her 64 years as a Sister, she had become quite active at Notre Dame de Namur University, and, in an effort to continue her work at the school, she had her computer moved up to Mercy with her. A few years earlier, she had begun documenting a history of the college, and wanted some help in completing the task.

So they called me.

I was known at Mercy for being the "computer guy" and had recently started my private tutoring business. Sr. Rosemarie Julie's community hired me to give her a one-hour computer lesson every week.

In our weekly sessions, I came to discover what everyone discovers about Sr. Rosemarie. She was a fiercely strong-willed woman who would simply let nothing get in the way of her completing a task. One of the therapists from the rehab department told me that Sr. Rosemarie would drive them all crazy with wanting to exercise all the time. Several times a day. Every day. Whatever the doctors had told her about walking again was simply not good enough. She wanted to be walking again tomorrow. And she did, eventually. She got herself walking again.

In the beginning, our computer lessons would involve a lot of proofreading and editing. It soon became clear that Microsoft Word was not behaving the same way her trusty Royal typewriter did. She sometimes deleted entire paragraphs without realizing it, opened a dozen or two versions of the same document at once, or saved a blank document over one she had already written. None of these slowed her down, mind you. She would scold herself and move on.

I watched her type once, and was amazed at the focus and concentration surging through this old woman's veins. She would spend a few seconds searching for each letter on the keyboard, giving new meaning to the term "hunt and peck". A paragraph would take her fifteen or twenty minutes. So when I would see a new page worth of material the next week, I would blush inside at the thought of someone working so hard and so diligently at something I had asked her to do.

Sr. Rosemarie Julie's health began to deteriorate, and she eventually suffered a stroke which sent her to our skilled nursing unit. We all feared the worst, and I rushed to print up a copy of the 15-plus chapters of her book that already existed. It sat at her bedside when I went to visit her. Slowly, steadily, in true "R-J" fashion, she began to regain control of her body, and when she did, she started asking for me again. At first, she just wanted us to read through her work together. Then, she wanted the computer again. So we found an old laptop that we could keep in her room, and the work started anew.

This time around was much more difficult for her. She only had the use of one hand, and was no longer able to hunt down the keys for herself. She would vocalize the sentence she wanted to type, and I would cue her to each key. We would spend twenty minutes or so each time doing this, and at most we would crank out a few sentences. But her eyes still lit up with joy each time she saw me. She always wanted more and more. She always felt a responsibility to get back to "her work" on the book.

Something else had changed since her stroke. Not only was her speech and her ability to concentrate affected, but the stroke also seemed to open her up in new ways. I remember sitting next to her, trying to cue her to the next letter, and she would just take my hand and smile, and sit there, no longer worrying about the work or the task. Just enjoying the moment with a friend. The Sr. Rosemarie I knew would never have done this before.

And yet, I really think she was happy. Frustrated, yes, that she couldn't do all of the things she wanted to do. But maybe she was finally able to let go of the work. I know she was happy holding my hand, and I know I wasn't the only one who sat with her during that time. So maybe those last few months of being in the moment were exactly what her spirit needed.

I heard at the funeral today that she loved teaching most of all. She taught poetry, for one thing, and was known for reciting e.e. cummings to her class, one hand holding the book, the other pontificating in the air. And for holding "Chaucer Parties" in the community house when they studied Chaucer. I wish I could have known that part of her. To me, she will always be the eager student, hard-working and appreciative of every hour I spent with her. And in the end, holding my hand tightly, her face aglow and smiling.

God Bless You, Sr. Rosemarie Julie Gavin, and watch over us new teachers, okay?

Posted: Sun - November 30, 2003 at 11:18 PM

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to an absent friend

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