Eulogy for Rosemary Kennedy by Eunice Kennedy Shriver January 10, 2005 Fr. Frederici Fr. MacMillan 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 (pause) 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. 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 special schools and special homes.  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 under Jean.  Special Olympics was born.  We all tried to honor her, to support her, to do 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, savored 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.  In our family, we loved her and she loved us.  At St. Coletta’s, everyone loved her and she loved them—her warmth, her patience, her love of desert, her strength, her smile—these were her gifts, her reason, her life.  For each of us, she inspired hope—hope that we could find our way, dreams of a better world, action to achieve it. Today, in villages and cities all over the world, Rosemary’s name may be little known, but her love is making a 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 you together 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.