|
On the evening of Friday, 7 January 2005, Rosemary Kennedy died at the age of 86. Kennedy, the sister of Special Olympics founder Eunice Kennedy Shriver and one of nine children born to Joseph P. and Rose Kennedy, lived at St. Coletta, a center for people with intellectual disabilities in Jefferson, Wisconsin, USA; she died at Fort Atkinson Memorial Health Hospital in Jefferson.
Inspired by Rosemary, all the members of the Kennedy, Shriver, Lawford and Smith families have devoted enormous energy to enhancing the hopes and dreams of people with intellectual disabilities. In 1968, Eunice Kennedy Shriver founded Special Olympics, a global movement devoted to developing the sports skills of people with intellectual disabilities and to showcasing those skills to the world. “Rosemary was a wonderful sister in every way,” said Eunice Kennedy Shriver. “She had an enormous impact on my life, and was a daily source of inspiration, courage, and love. Her gifts to me and to my family are and will remain immeasurable.”
"All of the Shrivers and all of the Special Olympics family around the world will miss Rosemary’s love and her influence on the world, said Special Olympics Chairman and CEO Timothy Shriver, who is Rosemary Kennedy’s nephew. “Her life and her example will continue to be our daily inspiration. We loved Rosemary, but gather great strength from our faith and from the sure knowledge that God will bless her with great joy and eternal life.”
|
Those interested in making a memorial contribution should send contributions to St. Coletta of Wisconsin:
St. Coletta of Wisconsin
Attn: Development Office
W4955 Highway 18
Jefferson, WI 53549
Andrea Speth
+1 (920) 674-8331 |
Rosemary Kennedy had lived at St. Colleta for the past 57 years. Founded in 1904 by the Sisters of St. Francis of Assisi, St. Coletta is one of the oldest organizations in the United States providing support services for people with developmental disabilities. Anthony LoDuca, President and CEO of St. Coletta, said, “She and her family have been a wonderful part of the St. Coletta community and its history. Our thoughts and prayers are with the family.”
The Kennedy family issued the following statement:
“Our sister Rosemary has gone today to be with God. She left us peacefully, with her brother and sisters at her side, and we are happy for her that she now has eternal life with God. We know our parents and our brothers and sister who have gone before us are welcoming her joyfully home to heaven.
“Rosemary was a lifelong jewel to every member of our family. She was always a loving presence in our lives. From her earliest years, her mental retardation was a continuing inspiration to each of us, and a powerful source of our family’s commitment to do all we can to help all persons with disabilities live full and productive lives. Millions of people of all ages have greater hope today because of Rosemary. We are forever thankful to the loving members of the St. Coletta community who cared for Rosemary, loved her, and in a very real sense became extended members of our family. We thank the doctors and nurses who cared for her, especially in this last illness.
“May our Lord grant Rosemary perpetual rest and shine eternal light upon her.”
Eulogies for Rosemary Kennedy
Our Lady of Victory, Centerville, Massachusetts
10 January 2005
By Eunice Kennedy Shriver
Thank you all for coming today to pray for and with my sister Rosemary. I loved her so and will miss her forever.
When we were young, Rosemary and I were often together. As you may know, we were a competitive family so in races and games, Rosie and I were sometimes teammates. Most often, she was my crew in sailing races. Even in competition, she seemed always to have a smile.
I will admit now that I sometimes yelled at Rosie on the water. Many times, when we were headed for the mark, she would let the jib go and turn to me with a smile. “Get the jib Rosemary!” “Rosemary, look the jib is flapping. Pull it in!” “For God’s sake Rosemary, pull in the BLASTED JIB!!” Usually, Rosie would then pull in the jib. Despite my tone, she would never lose her somewhat distant but happy smile.
Mother always appreciated that Rosie and I would race together. “Well done, dear,” she would often say. After one race, Dad asked how I did with Rosie. “We came in 3rd Dad.” “For God’s sake,” he thundered, “Can’t you do better than that?” Off I went, never quite sure how to win, but always sure that Rosie’s smile somehow had a value of its own.
In the years that followed, Rosie and I went to Europe together. We roomed together and had laughs together. We were sisters—she would gain too much weight, and I would lose too much weight; she would write sweet letters to get Dad’s attention, and I would try to get my brothers’ attention; she would love to relax and eat big meals, and I would love to be overly active and race around outdoors. We had many wonderful days together.
After Rosemary moved to Wisconsin, Mother and Dad and all of my brothers and sisters wondered how we could support her, but what we didn’t realize is that she would begin a lifetime of supporting us. We talked about Joe JR’s Foundation and agreed to focus it on persons with special needs. Pat and Jean and Ethel held big fundraisers in L.A. and New York and Washington. Jack launched the great federal efforts—NICHD, The President’s Council on Mental Retardation, The University Affiliated Centers. Bobby worked to close Willowbrook. Teddy has spent 40 years changing the laws of the land. Libraries, Schools, Clinics, and treatments were created. Very Special Arts was born. Special Olympics came into being. Rosie’s spirit inspired the 3rd generation with Best Buddies. We all honored her, supported her, and did what we could.
But the truth of these last 86 years reveals something much different: Rosemary has given us all so much more than we ever gave her. Over those years, Rosie visited my family at Timberlawn and always was the last one out of the pool, showing all the children the remarkable strength of her body. She was always the first to dinner showing us her constant readiness to join together in family fun. She was always at mass, patient and attentive; she always had her rosary and her faith. She worked so hard on her pronunciation, her words. She learned the names of her grand nieces and nephews. When she spoke, she spoke almost always of mother. In short, she was patient and kind; she never judged and always forgave; she never put on airs, loved to look pretty, loved chocolate and made everyone happy. She taught us all that adversity meant nothing—that it could always be fun to be together no matter what.
In Times to Remember, mother wrote, “My faith and my church had great importance for me…Rosemary did not induce me in the least toward doubt. The more I thought, the clearer it became to me that God in his infinite wisdom did have a reason though it was hidden from me, and that in time, in some way, it would be unfolded to me. God wants something different from each of us.”
Perhaps what was hidden has now become more clear to us today. Perhaps, as mother wrote, God’s will for each of us always remains a mystery, but in the last few days, Rosemary’s life has, I believe, become much more clear.
Today, in villages and cities all over the world, Rosemary’s name may be little known, but her love is making a huge difference—to a mother of special child, she is a success story. To a person struggling against misunderstanding and prejudice, she is a model of courage. To a family wondering how to stay hopeful, she is a symbol of the ultimate gift that sustains us all: love itself.
Like mother, the truth is that all of us wonder the meaning of a good life, a successful life, a holy life. Today, Rosie, you are the role model of them all—of goodness, of success, of holiness. You love those you touched, and they loved you. You made us all happy and hopeful. You kept the faith.
Many years ago, I may have skippered us to a third place finish, but Mother and Dad and Joe and Jack and Kathleen and Bobby together with you Rosemary, now surely know the real order of finish: you are a winner in life, a champion of all that matters.
God bless you Rosemary. I love you.
by Senator Edward Kennedy
Rosemary was my godmother — and I adored her. We shared a special bond. She was the oldest girl; I was the youngest boy.
We were both the family members who inherited the “chunky” genes. I think we must have inherited them from Dad. All three of us loved Katie Lynch Butter Crunch. I had so much fun asking her: “Rosie!” “Who has better food at their house? Teddy or Eunie?” “Teddy,” she’d reply without missing a beat. Yes, that was my Rosie.
Rosie had a happy spirit, and it was contagious. In all of our early family pictures, she had the broadest smile in the group. She found joy and pleasure in everyday life, and she spread that joy to everyone around her.
For all her life, wherever she was, Rosemary loved to be in the center of the action, with family and friends. Even at St. Coletta’s, she was always up for a party. As they told us on Saturday, the other residents and staff looked forward to the fun at Rosie’s house.
When Dad was Ambassador to the Court of St. James, after the rest of us were back in the United States, Rosie took special pride in being the only member of our family still in England with him. As she wrote him at the time,
“Mother says I am such a comfort to you. Never to leave you. Well, Daddy, I feel honoured because you chose me to stay. And the others I suppose are wild.”
She was exactly right. We were wild — wildly jealous of Rosie, because she had Dad all to herself in England.
A year later, back in the United States in the spring of 1940, she had been shopping, and her first letter to Dad in London said, “The Saks man wanted to hear about my trip. And he thinks I’m the best looking of all the Kennedys.”
That incredible spirit was always with her. Even in the recent years, when Rosie came back to Cape Cod, she loved to be where the action was — out on Nantucket Sound, surrounded by siblings, nieces, nephews, dogs — well, after Sunny ate her sandwich one day, maybe not dogs.
Even though it wasn’t always easy to get aboard Mya, once we were under sail, Rosemary was in her element. Like her baby brother, she wasn’t bothered at all by blustery winds or a drizzle or two. She just loved being on the water, surrounded by the people she loved. Yes, she was my kind of gal.
While Rosemary didn’t live independently in the usual sense, she was an independent person. If she didn’t want to stand up, she didn’t stand up. If she didn’t want to do one of the wonderful activities that Eunice had mapped out for her, she wouldn’t do it. Rosie wanted us to know who was boss. Her disability never dampened her wonderful independence.
As all of you know, Rosemary loved music. Oh, how she loved music. Just three weeks ago, Rosemary was in Washington, DC for a family visit. I took her to the Kennedy Center — along with a gaggle of Kennedys, Shrivers and friends — to hear Christmas music: Marvin Hamlisch and the Washington Pops Orchestra! She loved it! And so did we.
A few days later, after dinner at Eunice’s, even though the hour was getting late, we watched a replay of last summer’s Boston Pops performance at the Democratic convention. The music was spectacular, and I loved my cameo role in the evening, singing an Irish song and conducting Stars and Stripes Forever at the end.
Rosie was clearly getting tired — as all of us were — but when we asked whether she wanted to go to bed, she emphatically said, “no!” She was having too much fun, surrounded by loved ones, and listening to music.
Rosemary was a special person to all of my sisters and brothers. And she not only made a difference in all of our lives — she made a difference in the life of the world. We were taught by our parents from an early age that each of us can make a difference and each of us must try. And what a difference Rosemary has made.
From her earliest years, her perseverance in the face of intellectual disability was a powerful source of our family’s commitment to advancing the quality of life for all people with disabilities. Because of Rosemary, millions of people all over this earth have greater hope today.
At that beautiful Mass on Saturday, the priest said that Rosemary was one solitary life that had changed the world. I was reminded that another minister at another time had used those exact words — one solitary life — to describe the life of our Lord Jesus. How fitting, because Rosemary was so beautifully made in the image and likeness of the Lord. Like Jesus, Rosie never wrote a book, never held office, never raised an army, never had a family of her own, and never went to college, but her influence will leave a trail across centuries.
She was the inspiration for the Special Olympics and the Very Special Arts and has changed forever the way the world views people with disabilities. And in a personal, direct and positive way, she has changed the lives of all of us who knew her and loved her.
She taught us unconditional love.
She taught us patience.
She taught us to be unselfish, and kind and generous to others.
She taught us the importance of caring and compassion.
She taught us the meaning of dedication and commitment, because she worked so hard to do the very best she could.
She taught us appreciation for our own blessings and abilities.
Most important, she taught us the worth of every human being.
Rosemary was a person of deep, life-long faith who was tutored at the knee of the best guide to faith that I have ever known — our Mother. And with the support of her friends at St. Coletta and her family, Rosemary lived her faith every day of her life.
Sister Marcia Lunz, the Director of Sister Margaret Ann’s order, told us that she was certain that Rosemary was now in heaven and that we should feel free to pray to her. Sister Marcia said that, in ways that we might not understand right now, Rosie was a shining light who could show us all the way to eternal paradise.
Well, if the role of a godparent is to show us the path to heaven, then no one ever had a better godparent than I did. Rosie was an inspiration, a shining light of goodness, and she set a beautiful example for all of us to follow.
Rosie, my dear, you’ve gone home to be with God and to join the rest of our family now. And I have no doubt that the choirs of angels are singing in joy to welcome you — and maybe, just maybe — St. Patrick will lead them all in an Irish song. Faith, family, friends, and song will now be forever yours.
God works His will in wondrous ways. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of Rosie. And thank you Rosie for enriching all our lives immensely, and for doing God’s work here on earth so well.
We miss you, Rosie. We love you, and we always will.
Now, for a special tribute to Rosemary, please look at the lyrics in your program and join me in singing “Sweet Rosie O’Grady.”
Reneé Dease is known throughout the Special Olympics office for her commemorative poems as well as other writing talents — Are You A Healthy Athlete? was authored by Dease and Kester Edwards, both former Special Olympics athletes currently employed by Special Olympics at the movement's Washington, D.C., headquarters.
On Saturday morning, I was very sad to hear of the passing of Rosemary Kennedy. To know Rosemary at all is a blessing, and I’m happy to say that I am one of the lucky ones who knew Rosemary very well.
Rosemary lived at St. Coletta’s, a center for persons with Intellectual Disabilities in Wisconsin. But given the closeness and the positive impact she had on my life and the lives of so many others here in Washington, DC, it seemed like she was here everyday.
I met Rosemary during my first week here on the job many years ago. I can’t tell you what an honor it was to go to work for the organization that inspired me through my years as an athlete and meeting the very women who inspired Special Olympics was an even more rewarding experience, if you can imagine. And that was only the first of many wonderful opportunities I had to visit with Rosemary. I even got to work with Rosemary, along with some of the St. Coletta’s staff on “Community of Caring” projects early in my career through the Kennedy Foundation. I will always cherish those memories.
In 1968, Mrs. Eunice Kennedy Shriver, Rosemary’s sister, founded Special Olympics, which provides opportunities for persons with intellectual disabilities to gain confidence, leadership, and courage while developing sports skills. Special Olympics have guided me to live a courageous and healthy life — both personal as well as professional.
Special Olympics is one of the best examples of Rosemary’s impact on her family and the world.
We love Rosemary and will miss the joy, courage, and love that she not only brought to this world, but also inspired in others.
|
