Kath­leen was ded­i­cated to her fam­ily

The Sligo Champion - - NEWS -

BAL­LY­MOTE na­tive Kath­leen Mur­phy (nee Wil­son) and late of Keve­lioc Road, London was a ded­i­cated nurse who cared deeply for her fam­ily and pa­tients alike.

For­mally of Kil­mor­gan Bal­ly­mote, Kath­leen was the el­dest of 8 chil­dren, born in 1941 to John and Cather­ine Wil­son (nee Cu­nane).

She grew up along­side her both­ers and sis­ters in a small cot­tage in Kil­mor­gan, Bal­ly­mote. The cot­tage still stands to­day - her nephew Wayne Doyle of­ten drives past it when in Ire­land to soak up the old mem­o­ries and won­der in amaze­ment how on earth they man­aged, “but they did and were happy for it!”

Kath­leen of­ten spoke of go­ing to dances in Lof­tus Hall in Bal­ly­mote - she would smile fondly when re­call­ing her love of danc­ing.

Kath­leen started her love of nurs­ing in Sligo Hospi­tal where she would cy­cle to and from ev­ery day all the way from Bal­ly­mote.

Kath­leen left Bal­ly­mote in 1962 to fol­low her call­ing as a nurse. She first trained and worked in St Bren­dan’s Psy­chi­atric Hospi­tal, Grange­gor­man along­side her sis­ters Philom­ena and Pa­tri­cia.

On the 1st of April 1967 Philom­ena and Kath­leen trav­elled to Whipps Cross Hospi­tal in London to un­der­take their train­ing as gen­eral nurses. Those were times Kath­leen spoke very fondly of, her­self and Philom­ena count­ing up their wages to see how much they could send back home to their mother and fa­ther which re­port­edly al­lowed her par­ents to buy their first few cat­tle.

And from that same wage packet Kath­leen and Philom­ena treated them­selves to a record “the black vel­vet band” by the Dublin­ers.

It re­minded them of home and they played it so much the other stu­dent nurses would com­plain.

Kath­leen never lost her con­nec­tion with Sligo and once es­tab­lished in the UK she would travel back ev­ery 4-6 weeks to see her par­ents and sib­lings.

Kath­leen was a unique woman from a gen­er­a­tion of unique peo­ple, with qual­i­ties that are sadly miss­ing from the younger gen­er­a­tions.

A beau­ti­ful soul has re­turned home to join those who have trav­elled there be­fore her.

Hus­band Bernard, her mother and fa­ther Cather­ine and John Wil­son, her brother Sean, her sis­ters Philom­ena, Pa­tri­cia and Ber­nadette, who no doubt wel­comed her with open arms.

Kath­leen is sur­vived and sadly missed by her lov­ing brother Noel - “the best brother a sis­ter could have” as she said al­most ev­ery time she spoke of him - Liam and her sis­ter Imelda. Kath­leen is also deeply missed by her nieces, nephews and friends and most of all by the chil­dren she never had, Wayne and Cather­ine and the grand­chil­dren she never had, Ciara, Moyà and Amelia.

Kath­leen cared for both her pa­tients and her fam­ily, she lived her work and gave end­lessly of her­self.

Her to­tal ded­i­ca­tion, kind­ness and deep, deep com­pas­sion was all her souls jour­ney in this life, that of com­mit­ted ser­vice.

This ex­tended to her fam­ily and friends in all ways and at all times, al­ways giv­ing of her­self no bounds/end­less gen­eros­ity.

So long as we will live so too will she in our hearts.

Kath­leen died peace­fully fol­low­ing a long bat­tle with ill­ness on the 2nd of Septem­ber 2018.

Kath­leen with her one of her grand­nieces.

Kath­leen Mur­phy (top right) and her sis­ter Philom­ena (bot­tom left) as young nurses.

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